Chapter 15
Victoria
I pushed through the crowd without caring who I elbowed aside, heart pounding and vision narrowing to tunnel focus. I reached them just as Lirael was introducing herself, just as Ethan was stammering about being honored to finally meet her, just as his hand reached to take hers in a gesture that looked reverent.
Over my dead body.
"Excuse me," I said brightly, inserting myself between them. "I'm so sorry to interrupt, but—" I turned to Lirael, letting my eyes go wide with false recognition. "Don't I know you from somewhere? You look so familiar."
Up close, I could see she was wearing some holographic disguise that had altered her features just enough to make identification uncertain, but those eyes were unmistakable, and when she met my gaze I saw cold recognition that made my stomach drop.
She knows. She knows I know. Shit.
"I don't think so," she said, voice carrying a slight accent I didn't remember. "You must be thinking of someone else."
"No, I'm sure we've met," I insisted, reaching to grab her wrist in what I made look friendly but was actually an attempt to feel for the scars I knew should be there, the marks from the silver-laced whips. My nails dug into her skin, testing.
Come on, give yourself away. Show everyone what you really are—
Then her other hand caught my wrist with impossible strength, her fingers closing like a vice, and suddenly I was the one held immobile while she smiled with an expression that promised nothing good.
Fuck, she's strong—how is she this strong—
"I think you're confused," she said softly, then released me with just enough force that I stumbled backward, my heel catching on my dress hem.
I felt myself falling, felt the momentum carrying me into the waiter I'd somehow missed behind me, felt his tray of red wine tip and cascade down over my carefully chosen gown in a wave of dark liquid that soaked through and turned my pale pink into blotchy crimson.
No, no, no—this isn't happening, this can't be—
The crash of breaking glass seemed impossibly loud in the sudden silence, and I could feel every eye on me as I stood there dripping and humiliated, my dress ruined and my carefully constructed image shattered.
"Oh my God, I'm so sorry!" the waiter was saying, but I barely heard him over the roaring in my ears.
That bitch. That fucking bitch did this on purpose—
"She pushed me!" I heard myself saying, pointing at Lirael with a shaking hand. "She deliberately—"
"I saw the whole thing," Ethan cut in, voice cold in a way I'd never heard. "You grabbed her first, Victoria. She was just defending herself."
"But she—I didn't—" I could feel tears of rage burning, could see people pulling out phones to photograph my destruction, could hear whispers starting.
This isn't fair. This isn't fucking fair—I'm the victim here—
"If you're going to cause problems at my party," Ethan continued, tone leaving no room for argument, "then I'm going to have to ask you to leave."
The injustice hit like a physical blow. I was the victim here, but somehow she'd made it look like my fault, had turned the entire room against me with one calculated move.
I'll kill her. I swear to God I'll fucking kill her for this.
I fled toward the bathroom with what dignity I could salvage—which wasn't much considering the wine dripping from my hair and the ruined dress clinging to my body. Behind me the party resumed, Ethan's voice warm again as he spoke to that creature, and I wanted to scream.
In the bathroom I locked myself in a stall and pulled out my phone with shaking hands, scrolling to the number for the underground security team my father kept for "sensitive situations."
Fine. You want to play games, you freak? Let's see how you like waking up in a cage again.
"The target's confirmed," I said, keeping my voice low. "Silver hair, black dress, currently at Kane Estate. I need her grabbed tonight—wait until she's alone, knock her out, and take her to the usual location."
The voice confirmed understanding, and I ended the call feeling slightly better despite my destroyed dignity.
Let Lirael enjoy her little victory. By morning she'll be back where she belongs—restrained and suffering—and this time I'll make sure she never escapes. This time I'll make sure she knows exactly who's in control.
I changed into the backup dress Claire brought from my car, fixed my makeup with hands that still shook, and returned with my brightest smile firmly in place. If people wanted to whisper about my "accident," let them. By tomorrow they'd be talking about something else, and Lirael would be gone.
Just a few more hours. Just hold it together a few more hours and then she's mine again.
I found her surrounded by men all vying for her attention, and I pushed through them with calculated friendliness, voice pitched to carry.
"I'm so sorry about earlier," I said, touching her arm in a gesture that probably looked apologetic from a distance. "I was just so excited—I think you might be my cousin! We should definitely talk somewhere private, catch up properly."
I saw the calculation in her eyes as she considered, saw the moment she decided to play along, and felt vicious satisfaction.
That's right, walk into the trap. Make this easy for me, you stupid bitch.
"The outdoor pool area is lovely this time of night," I suggested. "Very private—we could talk without all this noise."
She smiled, and something about the coldness in that expression should've warned me, but I was too focused on the endgame.
Soon. Very soon you'll learn what happens to freaks who try to steal my life. Very soon you'll remember your place.