Chapter 13 Chapter 13
Bailey’s POV
“You saw him, didn’t you?”
His pitch-black eyes cut straight through me, cold and merciless. I froze, the shiver that ran down my spine making it impossible to answer right away.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about—”
I didn’t even finish before his hand clamped around my throat and lifted me off the ground like I weighed nothing. His nails elongated, piercing my skin, and I heard the awful snikt sound of them growing—just like Wolverine’s claws, if Wolverine had been a psychotic dark lord with anger issues.
Air. I needed air. My hands clawed at his arm, but Nathaniel didn’t flinch.
“It’s a waste of time trying to fool me,” he growled. “I know you’ve seen him. Now tell me—what did he say to you?”
Yeah, easy for you to say, jerk. Nobody’s choking you.
Lucian stepped between us like this was an ordinary Tuesday morning. He tapped Nathaniel’s shoulder with that trademark calm of his.
“My lord, perhaps it would be easier for Miss Bailey to speak if you let go of her neck…”
Nathaniel turned that deadly stare on him. Lucian only smiled, unbothered.
“It’s only a suggestion, my lord.”
Nathaniel finally released me, and I crumpled to the cold floor, coughing and clutching my throat. I didn’t even get a full breath before—wham—I was hurled backward, pinned against the concrete wall by invisible force.
My body refused to move. It was like gravity had doubled just for me.
Nathaniel stood a few steps away, right hand extended toward me, his palm glowing with translucent waves of power that shimmered in the air. Lucian didn’t seem to notice them.
“Now,” Nathaniel said, voice low and deadly. “Tell me what he said.”
I met his gaze, panting, and realized something: he loved control. He needed it—like oxygen. And people who needed control hated most when you broke it.
“Well,” I rasped, “if you’d asked nicely earlier, I might’ve fluttered my eyelashes and told you everything—but now that you’re acting like a bitch in heat, I think I’ll pass and let you boil.”
I flashed him my brightest smile. Translation: polite fuck you.
His body didn’t move an inch, but his eyes—oh, they blazed. Then I felt it again—tightness around my throat. He was choking me without touching me, Darth Vader style.
“You could play the hero and suffer,” he murmured, “or you could spare yourself the misery and tell me what I want.”
Electric agony exploded through me, a searing current racing from my toes to my scalp. I screamed until my lungs gave out, pain burning through every bone.
“My lord, that’s enough! My lord, stop!” Lucian grabbed his arm, trying to pull him back.
Nathaniel didn’t listen. Not until Lucian forced his hand away, which earned him a violent grab by the collar.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” Nathaniel roared.
I collapsed to the floor again, clutching my neck. Warm liquid slid down my nose. Blood. Perfect. I swiped at it with trembling fingers, and through the haze, I saw Nathaniel’s nose was bleeding too. The same side as mine.
Lucian’s voice came out calm but firm. “I’m only trying to help you, my lord. Your safety and health are my number one priority. You must know that by now… and your nose is bleeding.”
Nathaniel released him, wiping the blood away with a faint smirk. His eyes faded from solid black to their usual—still horrifying—coal-dark color. No matter what shade they were, he always looked like trouble wrapped in expensive arrogance. Maybe we should put a pink bow on him. Nope. That would somehow make it worse.
“You have to be more careful,” Lucian continued. “Every outburst can damage the heart.”
I dabbed at my own nose while trying not to gag on the metallic smell. Lucian waved his hand, and a tissue appeared out of thin air. He handed it to me like it was the most normal thing in the world.
“Any injuries, Miss Bailey? Fractures? His Highness can be… rigorous.”
I stretched my arms, testing everything. “Does mental trauma count?” I managed, giving him my sweetest grin.
Lucian chuckled. “Of course. Drink some tea before bed—it’ll calm your nerves. And whenever you need help, never hesitate to ask. We are done for today.”
Thank God. I needed a break from this nightmare.
“One final word of advice, Miss Bailey.” Lucian’s smile was gentle, almost hypnotic. I caught myself staring before quickly blinking it off.
“Do not use the heart’s powers unless you must. We can’t predict what might happen if you do. The risk of damage—to you or the heart—is too high.”
Yeah, tell that to Mister Rotting-Face and his fun prophecy of doom. According to him, if I don’t use it, it’ll eat me alive. Great options. Use it and die, or don’t use it and… die.
Nathaniel was still staring at me. His gaze wasn’t angry this time—just sharp, studying. Probably rummaging through my thoughts again. I imagined a giant pile of crap in his direction. Nothing. No reaction. Fine, I’d find something nastier.
“How do you keep doing that?” he asked suddenly. “I can’t access your thoughts again.”
He looked… intrigued. Curious. Almost fascinated.
“It’s like a bad Wi-Fi signal,” I said. “One moment clear, next moment gone.”
He tilted his head. “Interesting. Just like those communication devices from your dimension.”
Wait. My dimension?
“What do you mean, ‘my dimension’?” I asked.
He smirked, clearly enjoying my confusion. “You’re in the second dimension of planet Earth. Every planet has infinite versions of itself—layers of reality stacked atop one another. Even the universe has its own dimensions. So, you might say…”
“A dimensaption!” I cut in proudly.
Both of them stared at me.
“That expression will do, I suppose,” Nathaniel muttered.
Lucian looked impressed—and maybe slightly horrified that Nathaniel agreed with me.
“So,” I continued, “are there doppelgängers here?”
Lucian frowned. “What are doppelgängers?”
I straightened, finally the expert for once. “People who look exactly like you and share your name, but live totally different lives.”
Lucian’s eyes widened. “Fascinating! I have never heard of such a thing. Why do you think there would be such a phenomenon here?”
“Well, if this is the second dimension, then maybe I have another me here, living a better life—”
“You presume wrong,” Nathaniel cut in sharply. “There are no duplicates. Every dimension is unique. That’s the way it was designed.”
Bummer. No coffee dates with Alternate Bailey.
He turned to Lucian, voice cold again. “Enough small talk. You’re not here to make friends. Every bond you form is pointless—you’ll be dead the second Lucian returns my heart.”
Lucian’s jaw tightened. I glared. Nathaniel didn’t care.
“Get to work,” he ordered. “Or you’ll have more unpleasant matters to deal with.”
He started for the door, pausing just long enough to throw, “Turd, start moving.”
Excuse me?
“Coming, Asshole!” I shouted before my brain could stop me.
He froze, then turned slowly, eyes narrowing into daggers. “What did you just call me?”
I swallowed but refused to back down. “Well, since you called me a Turd, I figured you should be the Asshole. You know, to keep things connected. I might even give you diarrhea now and then.”
His fist clenched, glowing red-hot. The air shimmered with heat. My pulse spiked, but damn it—I smiled.
Lucian subtly readied himself to intervene, but Nathaniel forced a long breath, regaining control. The fire in his palm died. Pity. That would’ve been entertaining.
I followed him toward the door, glancing back at Lucian. He smiled softly and waved. I waved back. At least someone here had manners.
“There’s one thing you should know about me,” Nathaniel said suddenly as we walked down the glass hallway.
Oh no. That tone never meant anything good.
He looked down at me, shadow falling across his sharp features. Even now—terrifying, infuriating, gorgeous bastard that he was—he looked carved from sin itself. Why were evil men always this pretty?
“And what would that be, my lord?” I asked, keeping my voice steady and my sarcasm ready.
“I don’t like disobedience,” he said quietly, eyes flicking up, dark and sharp.
I tilted my head, pretending not to care. “And why should I care about that?”
A vein twitched in his temple. “You’ll find out when the time comes.”
Oh yeah—definitely not ominous at all.
We entered the glass corridor again, the world beneath us bustling with movement. Servants hurried below, setting the tables for what looked like a royal event—white embroidered cloths, silver utensils perfectly aligned, crystal glasses gleaming under the lights.
Everything was pristine. Controlled. Perfect.
Unlike the chaos brewing between me and him.
And as his reflection flickered beside mine in the glass, a chill crawled up my spine.
Because I had the sudden, terrifying feeling…
that next time, he wouldn’t stop.