Chapter 140
Sebastian
The command center hummed with controlled urgency as I stood before the wall of monitors, watching medical teams move through Sub-Level Seven's corridors. Forty-seven elves. Forty-seven lives my father had systematically destroyed.
"Lock down all research personnel," I said into the comm unit. "Every single person who participated in these experiments gets confined to Level Six. No exceptions. They stay there until the Triad investigators arrive."
Marcus appeared at my elbow, tablet in hand. "Already in progress, sir. We've identified forty-three staff members directly involved in the extraction protocols."
Forty-three people who'd clocked in each morning, run their tests, and gone home without a second thought about the sentient beings they were torturing. The wolf in me wanted to drag them all down here and make them watch what their compliance had wrought.
"What about the medical situation?" I asked instead.
"Dr. Nolan says the injuries are severe. Years of systematic extraction have left most of them with organ damage and malnutrition. He's prioritizing stabilization before we attempt any transfers."
Through the observation window, I could see Lirael moving between cells with Dr. Nolan, her silver hair catching the harsh lights. Even from here, I could see the exhaustion in every line of her body, the way she swayed when she stood too quickly.
She'd been down there for hours, refusing to rest, using her own moon dew to help the critical cases despite my protests. The sight of her like this—fierce and compassionate and utterly relentless—did something to my chest that had nothing to do with our blood bond.
"Sir." Marcus's voice pulled me back. "There's a security concern."
I turned to face him. "The Onyx Guard."
"Many of the guards here are your father's old loyalists." He pulled up a display showing guard positions, red markers appearing over roughly a third. "They've served the Patriarch for decades. They may not take kindly to your change in direction."
"How many?"
"Twenty-eight out of eighty-seven. Most are in positions where they could cause maximum damage if they act against you."
"Put surveillance on all of them," I said. "And Marcus—find me people you trust. The moment any of those twenty-eight contacts my father or shows signs of sabotage, bring them in."
"Your father will notice eventually."
"Let him." The words came out flat, final. "I'm done dancing around his delicate sensibilities."
Marcus studied me for a moment. "He'll retaliate. Not just against you."
"Anyone who touches Lirael answers to me personally," I said, the words coming out as a growl. "Make sure that's crystal fucking clear."
"Already done, sir." A ghost of a smile crossed his face. "I may have mentioned that attempting to harm Miss Lirael would result in immediate termination—both employment and biological."
Despite everything, I felt my mouth twitch. "You're learning."
A comfortable silence settled between us. Then, because the tension was unbearable and I desperately needed a distraction, I heard myself say something completely unexpected.
"Marcus." I clapped him on the shoulder. "You and Amy seem happy together. How'd you manage that?"
He blinked. "Sir?"
"Your relationship. She rejected you what, four times? And now you're doing the whole family dinner thing. What's your secret?"
"My... secret," he repeated slowly.
"Yeah. How do you pursue someone who initially wants nothing to do with you without resorting to—" I gestured vaguely. "—my usual methods."
For a long moment, Marcus just stared. Then he started laughing—genuine laughter that echoed off the walls. "You're serious. You're actually asking me for dating advice."
"I fail to see what's so amusing."
His laughter faded into a sympathetic smile. "The secret's simple, sir. I was persistent without being creepy. I respected her boundaries. And I let her see that I cared about her happiness, even if it didn't include me."
"So... shamelessness."
"Persistence," Marcus corrected. "There's a difference. You make them believe you'll endure rejection without getting angry or manipulative. Eventually, if your feelings are genuine, they start to see past their defenses." He paused. "Though I should mention—your face is already plenty thick. You've done kidnapping, threats, imprisonment. What you need to learn is sincerity."
"How does one become thick-skinned?" I asked, genuinely confused. "In romantic terms."
Marcus looked like he was trying very hard not to laugh again. "Sir, you've pursued Miss Lirael despite repeated rejections, escape attempts, and at least one murder attempt. The problem isn't your persistence—it's that your methods have been terrifying. What you need isn't more thick skin. It's learning to pursue her without triggering every defensive instinct she has."
Before I could respond, my comm buzzed. "Mr. Blackwood, we have a situation with the pediatric cases. Medical Room Three."
"On my way."
Medical Room Three was smaller, equipped for the facility's youngest victims. Dr. Nolan stood beside three small beds, his expression grim.
"What's the situation?"
"These three are critical. Ages seven, eight, and nine. Subjected to extraction since early childhood. Their organs are failing—kidneys, liver, lungs. Without intervention, maybe forty-eight hours."
"What do they need?"
"Intensive care and time. But there's a complication—they need supplemental moon dew to stabilize. The extraction created a dependency. Their bodies can't regulate fluid production without external support."
"Use my stockpiles," I said immediately. "Whatever my father's been hoarding, redirect it here."
"Already being arranged," Marcus confirmed. "But sir, there's someone else who should be involved."
I turned to find Lirael in the doorway. She looked utterly exhausted, her silver eyes rimmed with red, hands trembling. But her expression was fierce as she moved to the first bed.
"Dr. Nolan," she said quietly, voice hoarse. "Take my moon dew. As much as these children need."
"Lirael, no," I said, moving to her side. "You'll exhaust yourself—"
"I don't care." Her eyes blazed. "These are children, Sebastian. Children tortured because of your family's greed. If my tears can save them, that's what I'll do."
The raw pain in her voice cracked something open in my chest. Through our bond, I felt her grief—sharp and cutting, like ice shards beneath my ribs.
"Then we'll do it together," I said quietly, taking her hand. "We'll use both my stockpiles and your moon dew. Whatever it takes. But Lirael—you need to rest too. You can't help anyone if you collapse."
She looked like she wanted to argue, but then Nolan spoke up. "Miss Lirael, Mr. Blackwood's right. You've done extraordinary work, but you're running on empty. Let me give you nutrition supplements at least."
Her shoulders sagged. "Fine. But I'm not leaving this level."
"Of course," Nolan said, already preparing a solution. "You can monitor from the observation room."
As he worked, I guided Lirael to a chair, acutely aware of how fragile she felt. She sat heavily, head dropping forward.
"I'm sorry," I said quietly, kneeling beside her. "Sorry you have to see this. Sorry my family did this to your people."
"Don't apologize to me," she said, voice thick. "Apologize to them. To every elf who suffered because the great Blackwood family needed their precious moon dew supply."
The bitterness was deserved. "You're right. And I will—with action, not just words. These children will get the best care available. Every elf here will be relocated to safety. I swear it."
She studied me for a long moment, searching my face. Finally: "I believe you. Not because of the bond, but because I've seen you these past hours. Fighting your own father, risking everything. That takes real courage."
Her words hit harder than any declaration of love. This was what I'd been chasing—not her submission, but this. Her seeing me as something other than a villain.
"Thank you," I managed. "For giving me this chance."
"We're partners," she said simply. "That's what partners do."