Chapter 197 Son of a b*tch
Chapter 197 Son of a b*tch
Elara’s POV,
“YOU IDIOTS!” Every soldier below looks up. “ADRIAN VIRELLI IS MY FATHER!”
Silence crashes over the courtyard. Noemi pushes through the crowd, staring at me as though I’ve completely lost my mind.
“What the fuck are you doing, Elara? What are you saying?”
“Get me down, and I’ll explain everything.”
“It’s too late to throw a tantrum like this. The team already intercepted Matteo.”
“But that’s exactly the problem!” I shout. “Matteo shouldn’t be moving! It’s part of his plan! Lucien is walking straight into a trap!”
Noemi blinks.
“What are you talking about?”
I hold the folder over the edge.
“This file says Adrian Virelli is my father.”
She stares.
“...What?”
“Ha! Trust me, it came as a surprise to me too."
“Elara, be fucking serious.”
“I am serious! The file says Adrian Virelli is my father, Matteo Virelli is my uncle, and if that’s true, then Matteo already knows where the heir is.”
Her expression changes.
“Lucien went to retrieve the heir…”
“Exactly. Dorine saw me fall into the sea, so she would have reported it. If Matteo believes I’m dead, so why is he still moving? Because he isn’t looking for me anymore. He’s waiting for something.”
“Think about it! It’s always been about Lucien’s blood.” Understanding slowly dawns across her face. “Matteo at first wanted Lucien to marry Anya, even when the Church didn’t assign it. Then he tried to kill Lucien and the same day, Dorine kidnapped my son.”
“Oh my God…”
“I know.”
“But that massacre, you can’t be…”
“I don’t understand any of it either.”
She shakes her head.
“This doesn't make sense.”
“I know it doesn't.”
“How can Adrian Virelli be your father?! How-how?! Where has this information been the last five years?!”
“I don't know!”
My voice cracks.
“I don’t know anything anymore, Noemi. Everything in my head is falling apart, but I know enough to understand that Lucien is in danger.”
Finally, one of the Awakeneds leaps onto the ledge and helps pull me down before I throw myself off trying to climb. The second my feet touch the ground, I start running.
Noemi grabbed my wrist.
“Wait…”
“Noemi, there’s no time for this.”
“You need to explain! What if it’s a fake?!”
“But is it something we’re willing to gamble with?”
She stares at me for a while before releasing my hand.
“I wonder how you can look calm despite just finding out you legitimately belong to The Church, and all along, Lucien has been married to the same heir you planned to take from him.”
“I’m trying not to think about it—”
“You’re six hours late,” she says quietly, rubbing her hair. “Six hours.”
“It’s never too late if he’s still breathing.” I grab her shoulders. “You have to warn him. You have to take me to the Comms room.”
“I–It’s all too much to process. What if you’re wrong?”
“Yes. But what if I’m right?”
Neither of us answers, and finally she nods once.
“Let’s warn them.”
We nearly collide with Celene on our way to the comms room, and she stops short when she sees me.
“What’s going on?” She looks at my bleeding hands. “How did you get past Lucien's illusion?”
“There isn’t time for this, Celene.” I try to move around her. “We have to warn the team.”
She grabs my arm.
“What are you talking about?”
I shove the folder into her hands without a word, and she scans the first page. Then the second. Then the third.
The color drains from her face.
“No.”
“I didn’t know either.”
She looks from the papers to me.
“You let him leave…”
“I just said I didn’t know either.”
“Then…how? How did you get this?!”
She waves the file about, and my eyes twitch.
“That’s not important.”
“There’s nothing not important here!” She throws the folder, and grabs my forearms. “My son is in danger while you had this all along!”
“That’s what I’m trying to fix.”
For a heartbeat, nobody speaks.
Then Celene lets out a harsh, humorless laugh as she steps back.
“It’s been over five hours since the operation began. What do you think has been happening out there? A fucking tea party?”
“If I have even the smallest chance of saving the man I love,” I tell her, meeting her eyes without hesitation, “I’m taking it.”
She searches my face for several long seconds before stepping aside.
I roll my shoulders, crack my bruised knuckles, and start walking toward the comms room.
“Time,” I mutter, “to save that son of a bitch.”