Chapter 72
Sebastian
I carried her unconscious body into the main cabin, her silver hair spilling over my arm. The sedative would keep her under for at least three hours—plenty of time to handle whatever emergency Marcus had called about, though leaving her felt wrong in a way I couldn't name.
I laid her on the black silk sheets, adjusting her position until she looked comfortable. My fingers hovered over the first button of her collar, the urge to finally see her true form nearly overwhelming me before I forced myself to stop.
"Damn it," I muttered, leaning down to kiss her forehead, then her closed eyelids, then the corner of her mouth. "I want to see what you really look like..." My lips moved to her neck, lingering over her pulse. "Just once before you wake up and remember to hate me."
My phone buzzed. Marcus, barely controlled: "Sir, Blackwood Tower is under massive cyber attack. Multiple elite hacker teams targeting our encrypted archives. Firewall holds maybe fifteen minutes."
I straightened with a snarl, every instinct screaming to stay. Instead I bent down one last time, kissing her hard enough to bruise. "Wait for me," I whispered against her mouth. "Don't you dare go anywhere, little elf."
Outside, four Onyx Guard stood at attention. "Check on her every fifteen minutes. Clear facial photographs sent to me. The sedative should last three to four hours, but if she wakes early, inject the backup immediately." I held up the second syringe. "Every crew member stays at post. Double the dock patrols. Anyone lets her escape..." I let the sentence hang. "I'll execute them myself."
The cabin door required both my fingerprint and retinal scan—no one else could open it. Walking away felt like abandoning prey mid-hunt.
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Lirael
The sedative burned off faster than he'd calculated, my metabolism treating it like strong wine. I woke in fragments—the yacht's gentle rock, his cologne mixed with gunpowder, the ache where he'd kissed me hard enough to bruise.
I kept my eyes closed, breathing slowly while rage built in my chest like a fucking wildfire. Through barely parted lashes, I saw the clock: 6:17 PM. Less than two hours until deadline.
Still time. There's still goddamn time.
My lips throbbed. Worse was my neck—sore, marked, violated where his mouth had mapped every inch like he owned me. Because in his sick mind, he did. Shame and fury twisted together until I wanted to scream, but I forced it down, channeled it into cold calculation.
Bastard. Fucking psychotic wolf bastard. Kissing me while I was unconscious like some fairy tale villain.
The electronic lock disengaged and I snapped my eyes shut, every muscle tensing. Heavy footsteps—one guard. His fingers pressed my wrist and I wanted to bite them off, wanted to rip his throat out, but I kept my pulse even through sheer force of will even as my heart screamed to race.
Camera click. "Sir, target stable. Vitals normal. Sedative still in effect." Pause. "Yes, sir. Clear facial photograph."
Sebastian's voice crackled through the earpiece: "Good. Continue fifteen-minute reports. Face clearly visible every time."
The guard left and I counted to sixty, my jaw clenched so tight it ached. When I finally opened my eyes, my hands were shaking—not with fear, but with the effort of not losing my shit completely.
Breathe. Think. You've survived worse than this motherfucker.
If I simply escaped, the fifteen-minute check would discover me missing before I even reached the dock. They'd hunt me down, drag me back, and this time there'd be no mercy.
I cataloged the cabin with cold precision, my mind racing through and discarding options. Electronic lock—impossible without his biometrics. Bulletproof portholes—yeah, right. Ventilation shaft—too small unless I wanted to dislocate every bone in my body.
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
Then I saw the silver fox in its cage, and something clicked.
The fox met my gaze with intelligent amber eyes, and suddenly a plan formed—audacious, desperate, absolutely fucking insane.
If they think I'm still here...
I moved to the cage silently, my heart hammering. The fox watched, ears flattening warily, and I didn't blame it. I was probably giving off waves of barely-contained violence.
"Little one," I whispered in the ancient tongue, reaching through bars with trembling fingers. "I need your help. Please, I need—"
My voice cracked. Christ, I was begging a fox. But desperation made you do crazy shit.
The fox growled and I almost laughed hysterically. Of course. Why would anything in this nightmare be easy? But I forced myself to breathe, to center, and began to hum—not a human melody but something older, like moonlight on water, like wind through ancient forests.
The notes trembled at first, my voice unsteady with adrenaline, but gradually they strengthened. Silver threads of sound wrapped around the fox's consciousness, and its amber eyes softened.
"You remember," I murmured, my throat tight. "I saved you. When you were dying in that trap, bleeding out, I was the one who healed you. Not him. Never him. He just collects things and breaks them." My fingers stroked its soft muzzle. "So please. Please help me."
The fox licked my fingers and something in my chest loosened. Not much. But enough.
I worked quickly, hands steadier now with purpose. From Sebastian's toolkit I grabbed a knife—his knife, the irony not lost on me—and hacked at my own hair with vicious satisfaction. Each strand I cut felt like reclaiming a piece of myself.
Take this, you controlling bastard. Take your pretty silver trophy and choke on it.
I braided the hair into a crude wig, fingers flying. The white silk nightgown—his choice, always his fucking choice of what I wore—went onto the fox next. I wrestled fabric around its lean body, muttering curses under my breath. "Hold still, damn it. I know it's undignified but we're both prisoners here, okay? We're both his goddamn pets."
The fox actually seemed to understand, staying cooperative as I secured the wig with bobby pins and masked its muzzle with black ribbon.
"Lie down," I whispered, guiding it to curl on its side. My hands were shaking again. "Just like this. Please, just stay still."
It obeyed and I wanted to cry with relief. I arranged the sheets with obsessive care, leaving only "silver hair" and a vague form visible. From this distance, in this light, if these guards were as stupid as I hoped...
It might work. Holy shit, it might actually work.
From the pouch hidden in my undergarments—the one place his guards hadn't searched because even monsters had some boundaries—I extracted three capsules. My hands trembled as I crushed them.
"Moonflower extract," I told the fox, my voice rough. "You'll just sleep. I promise. No pain, no nightmares. Better dreams than I've had in three fucking years."
The fox lapped it up and within minutes its breathing deepened. I covered it thoroughly, stepping back to assess. In the dim light, with the sheets arranged just so...
It looks like me. It actually looks like me.
A laugh bubbled up, slightly unhinged. I'd just dressed a fox in my clothes and put it in my bed. This was either brilliant or I'd finally lost my mind.
Probably both.