Chapter 102
Lirael
"Father." Sebastian's voice carried an edge I'd never heard him use with anyone else, sharp enough to draw blood. "I'm sure Miss Thornwood has other commitments. We shouldn't monopolize her evening with family business."
"Nonsense." Victor dismissed it with casual authority, and I saw Sebastian's jaw tighten fractionally at being overruled in public. "In fact, Sebastian and I are leaving for the ancestral estate tomorrow morning—urgent matters requiring our personal attention. Miss Thornwood, would you consider joining us as our guest? I assure you, the journey would be worthwhile, and our archives contain research that simply cannot be found anywhere else."
The ballroom seemed to hold its collective breath, nearby guests exchanging meaningful glances and speculative whispers.
The estate.
Where Blackwood heirs prove themselves through blood and survival.
Where Derek died, where Sebastian became the monster he is.
Where Sophia's ring ended up on Victor's fucking finger.
Where I might find answers about what happened to her.
Where I might never leave if I'm foolish enough to accept.
My heart was slamming against my ribs so hard it hurt, and I could feel cold sweat gathering at the small of my back beneath Sophia's elegant dress.
Say no.
Refuse politely and extract in fourteen minutes.
Don't be a fucking idiot.
But even as logic screamed warnings, even as I saw Elwin's subtle head shake and Damian's expression shift to something approaching horror, I was already opening my mouth, already nodding.
Because somewhere in that fortress of stone and secrets might be proof of what happened to Sophia Thornwood.
Because the most dangerous place was sometimes the only place to find truth.
Because I was so fucking tired of running, of hiding, of being hunted.
Because maybe—just maybe—walking into the wolf's den was the only way to finally end this.
"I would be deeply honored, Lord Blackwood." The words tasted like ash and surrender, but I forced them out with Sophia's gracious warmth, even as my hands trembled so badly I had to clasp them together to hide it. "To visit the Blackwood ancestral home and study your research archives... it's an opportunity I could never refuse."
What the fuck are you doing?
This is insane.
This is suicide.
"Excellent." Victor's smile was pure triumph, and I saw something flash in his eyes that made my blood run cold. "We leave at dawn. I'll have quarters prepared in the east wing—it has the most spectacular view of the forest, and I think you'll find the accommodations quite... comfortable."
Comfortable.
Like a cage is comfortable.
Like a laboratory specimen's enclosure is comfortable.
Like a tomb is comfortable.
Beside me, I felt Elwin's hand brush against mine in warning, his fingers ice-cold and trembling, and across the room I saw Damian's jaw clench with the kind of helpless fury that came from watching someone walk willingly into a trap you couldn't prevent.
But it was Sebastian's reaction that made my heart stutter and drop into my stomach—the way his amber eyes locked onto my face with sudden, intense focus, as though seeing me clearly for the first time tonight, and the slow, dangerous smile that curved his lips suggested he'd just recognized a game far more interesting than simple escape and recapture.
He knows something's wrong.
Not that I'm Lirael specifically, but he knows his father doesn't extend invitations without ulterior motives.
And he's curious enough to let it play out.
Fuck.
"How delightful." Sebastian moved to stand beside his father, his movements fluid and predatory, and I had to force myself not to take an instinctive step backward. "It's been too long since we've had a guest with genuine scholarly interests. Most visitors to the estate are more concerned with politics and alliances than actual research. Your presence will be... refreshing."
The word carried implications I didn't want to examine too closely, and I manufactured a smile that I hoped conveyed Sophia's intellectual excitement rather than the screaming panic currently flooding my nervous system.
My hands were shaking so badly I had to press them flat against my thighs.
"The honor is mine, Lord Blackwood." I included both father and son in the statement, playing the gracious guest to perfection even as my mind shrieked warnings. "I promise not to be a burden on your hospitality."
"Oh, I'm certain you won't be." Victor's smile widened fractionally, and the moonstone ring caught the light as he gestured. "In fact, I suspect you'll prove exactly what this family needs. Sebastian has been rather... restless lately. Perhaps a fresh perspective will provide the distraction he requires."
Distraction.
He said distraction, not guest.
He's using me to test his son, to see how Sebastian reacts to another woman in his space.
He knows about me.
This is a trap within a trap within a fucking trap.
I should have run. Should have dropped the champagne flute, torn off the holographic disguise, and sprinted for the nearest exit, extraction plan be damned.
Instead, I found myself straightening Sophia's spine, lifting her chin with aristocratic pride, and meeting Victor Blackwood's assessing gaze with the kind of cool confidence that came from having absolutely nothing left to lose.
"I look forward to tomorrow, then." My voice was steady, betraying none of the terror or determination churning beneath Sophia's elegant surface. "And to learning more about the Blackwood family's remarkable legacy."
Sebastian's eyes narrowed fractionally, his head tilting as he studied "Sophia's" face with an intensity that made my skin prickle.
Sebastian
Dawn broke cold and sharp over Ark City, the kind of morning that made ordinary humans huddle deeper into their coats while my wolf stirred restlessly beneath my skin, energized by the promise of a hunt finally reaching its most interesting phase.
I stood in the private hangar watching ground crew perform final checks on the family jet, coffee in hand, mind already three moves ahead in whatever game "Sophia Thornwood" thought she was playing. Father had departed an hour earlier with his latest wife—Ivy, all flame-red hair and calculated charm—preferring to arrive ahead and ensure everything was prepared for our "distinguished guest."
Distinguished. That's one word for her.
Infiltrator would be more accurate.
Runaway pet would be even better.
Marcus materialized at my elbow with his usual silent efficiency, tablet in hand, expression carefully neutral in that way that meant he had information I wasn't going to like.
"Alpha." He kept his voice low despite the hangar's emptiness. "Miss Thornwood's car just cleared security. ETA three minutes. And she's not alone—she's brought the Hartley boy as her 'personal assistant.'"
I felt my lips curve into something that wasn't quite a smile.
Of course she did. Can't walk into the wolf's den without backup, can she?
"Elwin Hartley." I took another sip of coffee, savoring the burn. "Damian's little protégé. The half-elf with the moon-mark birthright and more loyalty than sense. How very predictable."
"Should I have security separate them? Standard protocol for guests traveling to the estate—"
"No." I cut him off before he could finish the suggestion. "Let her keep her security blanket. It'll be more entertaining to watch her realize he can't actually protect her from anything that matters."
Marcus's jaw tightened fractionally—the closest he ever came to questioning my judgment—but he nodded and retreated to finalize boarding procedures.
I turned back to the window, watching a sleek black town car glide across the tarmac, morning light catching on tinted windows that concealed whatever preparation rituals "Sophia" was performing before stepping into the performance of her life.
This should be good.
The car stopped precisely at the designated mark. Driver emerged first—one of our people, naturally, already briefed on maintaining surveillance without being obvious about it. Then the rear door opened, and she stepped out.
Jesus Christ.
Even knowing it was a disguise, even having spent all night analyzing footage and confirming my suspicions, the holographic perfection of Sophia Thornwood's appearance still managed to catch me off-guard. Honey-blonde hair caught the morning breeze, designer travel outfit that probably cost more than most people's monthly rent, posture that screamed old money and European finishing schools.
But I could see the tells now, knew what to look for. The way she scanned the hangar before moving, cataloguing exits and potential threats. The subtle favoring of her right foot as she crossed the tarmac. The micro-hesitation before accepting the driver's offered hand, like someone unaccustomed to such courtesies despite supposedly growing up with them.
There you are, little rabbit.
Dressed up in someone else's skin.
Thinking you're so fucking clever.
Elwin emerged behind her, all nervous energy and protective hovering, his hand brushing her elbow in a gesture that looked solicitous but which I recognized as tactical positioning—ready to grab her and run if things went sideways.
Good luck with that, kid.
You're already on my plane.
Already in my territory.
Already mine.