Chapter 29 THE BREAKING POINT
AVRIELLE'S POV
The weight of the silence in the room was suffocating. Every thump-thump of my heart felt like a countdown clock ticking toward a tragedy I was powerless to stop.
I stared at the closed door, my mind racing through a maze of possibilities. If Adrian was being framed, the real killer was still out there, probably laughing as Xavier did their dirty work for them. And Xavier... my strong, possessive, broken Alpha... he was walking straight into a trap of his own making.
"Elena," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. I looked up at her, trying to channel even a fraction of the authority I had seen Xavier use. "I need you to listen to me very carefully."
Elena trembled, the silk of her apron rustling as she clutched the silver tray. "Mistress, please don't ask me to go against him. You know what he’s like when he’s... like this. He will have my head if I let you leave."
"I’m not asking you to fight him," I whispered, beckoning her closer. "I’m asking you to help me save him from himself. If he kills Adrian based on a lie, he will never forgive himself, and the pack will never see him the same way again."
I leaned in, the movement pulling at the fresh stitches in my side, making my vision swim with white spots of pain. I forced myself to breathe through it. "The guards out there—they aren't looking for a fight. They’re looking for a patient. If I can get to the old service tunnels, I can reach the dungeons before he does."
"The tunnels?" Elena’s eyes went wide, her face paling. "But those haven't been used in years! They’re filthy, and you’re...you’re bleeding, Avrielle! You’ll get an infection, or worse."
"I don't care if I’m crawling on my hands and knees," I snapped, the desperation sharpening my tone. "I need a distraction. Ten minutes. That’s all I need, Elena. Please. For the sake of the pack. For Xavier."
I saw the conflict in her eyes—the terrifying loyalty to the Alpha versus the genuine affection she had developed for me. Finally, she let out a shaky breath and nodded. "The linens," she whispered. "I’ll tell them the laundry chute is backed up and there’s a leak near the medicine stores. It’ll draw the guards at the end of the hall away for a moment. But the ones at the door..."
"I’ll handle the door," I said, a plan forming in the dark recesses of my mind.
Elena hurried out, her face a mask of practiced servitude. I waited, counting the seconds, my hand pressed firmly against the bandage on my side to keep the blood from soaking through the thin hospital gown. I needed to look weak. I needed to look like I had finally succumbed to the exhaustion.
A few minutes later, I heard a commotion at the far end of the hallway. Elena’s voice rose in a frantic, high-pitched squeal about flooding and silver-cleaning chemicals ruining the Alpha's robes. I heard the heavy clank of armor as the secondary guard detail moved to investigate the mess.
Now.
I stood up, the world tilting precariously. I walked to the door and pulled it open just a crack. The two guards stationed directly outside turned, their hands moving instinctively to the hilts of their swords.
"Mistress? You should be resting," one of them said, his voice firm but respectful.
"I... I think I’m going to be sick," I gasped, leaning heavily against the doorframe. I let my knees buckle, sliding down the wood until I was a crumpled heap on the floor. I let out a low, pained moan, letting my eyes roll back slightly. "The pain... it’s too much... Aris... call Aris..."
The guards panicked. They were trained for assassins, not for a collapsing Luna. One of them knelt beside me, his large hand hovering over my shoulder, unsure if he was even allowed to touch the Alpha's mate. "Stay calm, Mistress! Jonas, go get the doctor! Now!"
The second guard took off down the hallway toward the medical office. The moment he disappeared around the corner, I didn't wait. I didn't have the luxury of playing dead.
As the first guard leaned closer to check my pulse, I drove my elbow upward with every ounce of strength I had left. It caught him square under the chin. He wasn't expecting an attack from a dying woman. His head snapped back, his helmet clattering against the wall, and he slumped forward, dazed and clutching his throat.
I didn't stop to see if he was unconscious. I scrambled past him, the pain in my side blooming into a blinding, white-hot roar. I ignored it. I ran—not with the grace of a wolf, but with the frantic, stumbling gait of a woman possessed.
I dove into the shadows of a side alcove, pulling a heavy tapestry aside to reveal the narrow, rusted iron door of the old service tunnels. My fingers fumbled with the latch, the cold metal biting into my skin. With a final, desperate heave, the door groaned open.
I slipped inside and pulled it shut just as I heard the guard behind me start to shout for reinforcements.
The tunnels were pitch black and smelled of damp earth. I pressed my back against the wall, my heart hammering against my ribs so hard I thought they might crack. I was alone in the dark, my side was screaming, and I was trailing blood like a wounded animal.
I have to reach him.
I began to move, my hand skimming the rough stone wall to guide me. Every step was a battle.
Xavier, please. Don't let the darkness win. Wait for me.
The tunnels sloped downward, the air growing colder and thinner as I descended into the bowels of the manor. I knew I was close to the dungeons. I could hear the faint, echoing drips of water and the distant, muffled sound of a man screaming in terror.
My blood ran cold. Was that Adrian? Or was it someone else already tasting Xavier's wrath?
I pushed myself faster, my breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps. My vision was starting to tunnel, the edges of my sight turning gray. Not now. Don't you dare faint now.
I reached the end of the tunnel, a small wooden grate looking out into the lower level of the cells. I pressed my face against the wood, my eyes searching the gloom.
There.
In the center of the hall, under the flickering light of a single torch, stood Xavier. He looked like a god of death. His shirt was gone, his muscles corded and tense, his skin slick with sweat and the spray of someone else's blood. In front of him, chained to the wall and slumped in the dirt, was Adrian. He was unrecognizable—covered in blood and filth, his face a mask of pure, unadulterated terror.
Xavier reached out and grabbed Adrian by the throat, lifting him until his toes barely touched the floor.
"One last time, Adrian," Xavier growled, his voice a low, guttural vibration that shook the very stones of the wall. "Who did you send the letter to? Give me a name, and I might make your end quick."
"I... I didn't... Uncle... please..." Adrian choked out, his voice a mere rattle of desperation.
Xavier’s hand tightened. I saw his claws begin to lengthen, the gold in his eyes flaring with a lethal, unforgiving light. He was going to do it. He was going to kill his own nephew.
"XAVIER! STOP!"
The scream tore from my throat, raw and desperate. I slammed my body against the wooden grate, the old wood splintering as I tumbled out of the tunnel and onto the cold stone floor of the dungeon.
Xavier froze. He turned his head slowly, his gaze locking onto mine. I was a mess—covered in cobwebs and dirt, my hospital gown soaked with fresh blood, my face pale as death.
"Avrielle?" he whispered, his grip on Adrian loosening just enough for the younger man to gasp for air and collapse against his chains. "What are you doing here? You should be in bed!"