Chapter 124: Outsmarted
I shoved my way through the thick, writhing crowd, each step feeling heavier as I closed in on Count Dracula. The dim lights flickered, casting distorted shadows, and the thumping bass of the music matched the erratic beat of my heart. I could see him now, his figure looming just ahead, but I kept to his left, slipping through unnoticed, avoiding his line of sight.
Adrenaline surged through me, heightening my senses as my fingers brushed the cool steel of the gun inside my tote bag. For the sake of my mother, I had no choice but to achieve what Lily desired. I wasn't here to kill; I just needed to incapacitate him. Cripple him. My mind raced as I counted my steps, closing the distance. In just a few more strides, I could fire.
And then, just as my hand moved to the trigger, a fierce grip latched onto my arm. Before I could react, a sharp, searing pain exploded in my stomach, knocking the wind out of me. I doubled over, gasping for air, only to find myself staring at the masked face of Count Dracula. No—one of them. There were two of them, with the second pinning me down with severe force.
I attempted to fight back, but he lifted me like dead weight, flinging me over his shoulder as if I were just another inebriated partygoer.
Panic clawed at my chest, but when I glanced around, I saw them—more Dracula; half a dozen, maybe more, all wearing the same mask, mingling with the crowd. It was impossible to tell who was real.
Armand had outsmarted Lily Brinson. Lily's informant was correct about his costume, but no one knew he had decoys. Too late, I realized one of them had me, and I was in their clutches once again.
How many times had I been abducted so easily? I tried to recall. The bitter truth hit me hard—I wasn’t strong enough to fight off those who mistook me for Lily Brinson. And now, once again, I was in the hands of the Triple King Gang. Struggling was useless. The man holding me clamped a cloth over my mouth; the sharp, acrid smell overwhelmed my senses. My vision blurred, and darkness swallowed me.
“Honey, let’s go home. You’re wasted.” Those were the last words I heard before everything went black.
***
When I came, I was in a dimly lit living room. My head throbbed, and as I opened my eyes, I saw men in black jackets surrounded me, their guns trained on me, ready to shoot at the slightest movement. They watched me closely, as if they expected me to be dangerous.
“Who are you?” My voice was hoarse, but I needed answers. “Who’s your leader?”
A figure stepped forward from behind the line of men, and I felt a chill run down my spine. Armand. His smile was slow, triumphant, the look of a predator closing in on its prey.
“It’s awesome to see you again, Lily Brinson,” he said, each word dripping with mockery. “You really thought you could outsmart me, thinking that your little informant could hide forever?”
A scream echoed through the room, a sound that cut through the tension like a knife. My heart sank as one of Armand’s men dragged a crying woman into the room. Her face was pale, streaked with tears, and in that moment, I understood—this was Lily’s informant. She had been caught.
“Madam Lily, please help me,” she sobbed, her voice trembling with fear as her wide eyes locked onto mine.
I forced myself to stand straighter, my heart pounding. If I was going to survive this, I had to keep playing the role of Lily Brinson. No hesitation, no fear.
“What do you want from me?” I asked, my voice firm despite the storm of dread swirling inside me.
Armand’s grin widened, and for a moment, I felt as if the whole room had been swallowed by the darkness of his gaze.
“Have you forgotten about William’s painting?” Armand hissed, his voice low and venomous. “The one you stole from that wall.”
I glanced instinctively at the empty square-shaped mark on the wall—the spot where the painting had once hung, the painting I had decoded. But what caught me off guard was the name Armand had just revealed: William—a name I didn't expect to hear.
“Did you know about William from the orphanage?” My words spilled out in a rush, excitement bubbling beneath my confusion. Armand—Lily’s sworn enemy—had a connection to William, the missing piece of the puzzle I had been searching for.
“Don’t play dumb, Lily.” Armand’s voice grew sharp as he moved closer, his eyes dark with accusation. “I know how you were... intimately connected to that bastard. He used you to steal the painting my father cherished.”
My heart raced. William—my William—had crossed paths with Lily Brinson. It was starting to make sense. His broken promises, his disappearance... Everything seemed to point back to her. But I needed to know more.
What had happened to him? How had he become entangled in this web of lies and betrayal?
“Tell me where William is,” I demanded, my voice trembling with both urgency and pain.
Armand’s expression flickered with something—uncertainty? Fear? He was hiding something. “I know you know where he is, Lily,” he growled. “Your men saved him after the ambush. You can’t play innocent.”
Frustration gnawed at me. William was still missing, and the truth dangled just out of reach. But I had to push Armand. His hatred for William was obvious, but there was more to this story.
“Give me back my father’s painting,” Armand demanded, his voice sharp with desperation. “You stole it from me, and you’re the one who’s going to return it. I know something’s hidden inside it.”
I held back a smile. He doesn’t know about the graves or the gemstones. This gave me the leverage I needed. I had decoded William’s painting, and now I could use it to bargain.
“I’ve already unlocked its secrets,” I said flatly, watching his reaction closely. “William and your father knew what it hid. But you? You were never trusted with it.”