Chapter 80
Lirael
The corridor erupted into chaos just as I thought I'd escaped Sebastian's scrutiny.
Voices rose in alarm, footsteps thundering against marble as Nightwatch officials scattered. My first instinct screamed at me to use the distraction, to slip away while everyone's attention was elsewhere, to disappear before Sebastian's suspicions crystallized into certainty.
But then I saw him.
Sebastian stood frozen mid-sentence, one hand braced against the wall like it was the only thing keeping him upright. The Nightwatch director reached out instinctively, but Sebastian waved him off with a sharp gesture that would have been commanding if his hand hadn't been trembling.
"Stand—" The word died on his lips as his fingers slipped from the wall. His massive frame crumpled like a puppet with cut strings, knees hitting the floor before his entire body pitched forward.
I should have run. Every rational thought screamed at me to take this gift and flee. Sebastian was down, vulnerable, and I was still wearing Sophia's face. I could walk out and he'd never know I'd been here.
But I couldn't move. Couldn't tear my eyes away from the dark red blood—thick as syrup, almost black—that began to seep from his nostrils.
Entropy corruption. Internal organ damage. He's dying.
Marcus materialized from somewhere, dropping to his knees beside Sebastian. His hand moved to Sebastian's forehead and jerked back immediately, fingers red and blistered.
"Fuck," Marcus breathed, and the raw fear in his voice sent ice down my spine. "Get the medical team. Now. Code Omega."
The Onyx Guard flooded in within seconds, producing a stretcher and handling Sebastian with practiced efficiency. I pressed myself against the wall as they swept past, just another panicked guest, and watched them load him onto the private elevator. His eyes had rolled back, showing only whites, fingers spasming against the silver-threaded leather restraints.
This is it. This is your chance. While he's unconscious, distracted, you could—
But the thought wouldn't complete itself. Because all I could see was Sebastian's body convulsing, could hear Marcus's terrified voice, could remember with crystal clarity the moment Sebastian had thrown himself between me and that bullet in the warehouse.
He took a bullet for you. Didn't have to. Could have let you die. But he didn't.
The elevator doors closed and the crowd began to disperse. I forced myself to move, to blend with the flow toward the exits, my heart hammering so hard I was certain everyone could hear it.
He's dying. Sebastian Blackwood is dying, and you should be celebrating. This is what you wanted. Freedom.
Except it didn't feel like victory. It felt like something cold and hollow had opened up in my chest.
---
I found Elwin at the side entrance, his young face tight with worry. The moment he saw me, his shoulders sagged with relief.
"Thank the gods. I heard the commotion and thought—I was afraid they'd caught you."
"I'm fine." The lie came easily. I wasn't fine. Nothing about this was fine. "What happened? Why did everyone panic?"
Elwin glanced around nervously, then leaned closer. "Lord Blackwood collapsed. They're taking him to some private medical facility. Silver Moon Sanatorium, I think."
My hands clenched in the folds of my dress. "Do you know why?"
"Entropy backlash. His body's developed complete resistance to the suppressants he's been taking. They've been trying different formulations for days, but nothing's working."
Days. My stomach dropped. The steak. The one I'd made him, laced with herbs that should have been harmless. But if his system was already rejecting the suppressants—
Did I do this? Did I accidentally poison him?
"Ms. Moonwhisper?" Elwin's voice pulled me back. "Are you alright? You look pale."
"I'm fine." My hands were shaking. "Will they contact me if Lord Blackwood wakes up?"
Elwin studied my face. "Why? You barely spoke to him tonight."
Because I need to know if he survives. Because despite everything he's done, I can't shake the image of him taking that bullet. Because when he interrogated Victoria, when he made her confess every cruel thing she'd done to me, some vindictive part of me felt satisfied. Felt seen.
"Professional courtesy," I said smoothly. "He expressed interest in my research."
Elwin didn't look convinced but nodded. "We should go. Before someone starts asking questions."
He was right. I let him guide me away, my mind churning.
Sebastian was dying. The suppressants weren't working. And I was carrying the only substance in existence that could save him.
I should let him die. He's my captor, my tormentor, the man who collared me like an animal.
But he'd also taken a bullet for me. Had stood between me and certain death without hesitation, without demanding anything in return.
And when Victoria had sat there describing in clinical detail every torture she'd inflicted—Sebastian hadn't just extracted information. He'd made her pay. Not for me, maybe. Probably because the information was valuable. But still.
He helped you. In his own twisted way, he gave you justice.
I sent Elwin back to his hiding place, then made my way to my room. The Moon's Tear glamour was holding, but I could feel it straining, could taste silver on my tongue.
I pulled the crystal vial from my medical bag. The Moon Dew inside glowed with pale luminescence—three years' worth of crystallized tears from my darkest moments at Eden Base.
This is insane. You're considering saving the man who owns you, who hunts you, who treats you like property.
But my fingers were already checking the vial's seal, calculating dosages. Because beneath the rage and fear and resentment, there was something else. Something I'd been trying very hard not to acknowledge.
I didn't want Sebastian to die.
Not because I'd forgiven him. Not because I'd forgotten what he'd done. But because somewhere between the collar and the yacht and that restaurant where he'd looked at me and said mine like it was both threat and prayer—somewhere in all that darkness, something had shifted.
You're attracted to your captor. You've developed feelings for the man who hunts you. That's textbook Stockholm syndrome.
Maybe it was. Or maybe it was something more complicated. Maybe it was the way he'd looked at me when I bit him, like I was the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen. Maybe it was how he slept peacefully with me in his arms, the only time his entropy ever settled. Maybe it was just that I was tired—so fucking tired—of being alone, of fighting, of running.
Or maybe you're just making excuses because you want to see him again. Want to know if that moment in the restaurant was real.
I grabbed my black infiltration gear. If I was going to be this stupid, I needed to do it right.
This is a mistake. The biggest mistake you've ever made.
But I was already changing, already planning my route, already convincing myself this was about debt repayment and strategy and anything other than the uncomfortable truth lodged in my chest like a splinter.
I didn't want Sebastian to die because some treacherous part of me had started to care whether he lived.
---
Silver Moon Sanatorium crouched at the edge of Frosthaven's medical district—all dark stone and narrow windows, surrounded by walls topped with silver wire.