Chapter 84
Lirael
The silence stretched like a living thing, heavy and suffocating. I kept my face toward the window, acutely aware of Sebastian mere inches away in the narrow back seat. I could feel his eyes on me, could sense the tension radiating off him, but I refused to look. Refused to acknowledge him.
Let him stew in it. Let him feel what it was like to be ignored.
From my peripheral vision, I saw Sebastian shift, his hand moving as if to reach for me before stopping. Good.
The minutes ticked by. Sebastian cleared his throat—a small, uncertain sound so unlike him it almost made me turn. Almost. Instead, I studied the raindrops on the window. One. Two. Three. Anything to avoid the magnetic pull of his attention.
"Lirael," he said finally, voice low and careful, and I felt savage satisfaction at the uncertainty in it. But I didn't respond, didn't even twitch. Just kept my eyes fixed on the passing cityscape.
In the driver's seat, Marcus's eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, taking in the scene with what I suspected was fascination and horror. He'd probably never seen Sebastian like this—uncertain, off-balance.
"The warehouse was compromised before we arrived," Sebastian said, trying again. More measured now, almost professional. "Nightwatch had been tracking Sophia's magical signature for weeks. They knew about the black market purchases—probably set them up as bait. I should have anticipated—"
I turned slightly, just enough to shift my shoulder toward him—a deliberate, dismissive gesture. I heard his breath catch, heard leather creaking as his hands clenched.
"Lirael," he said again, and this time there was an edge of desperation. "You can't just—you can't ignore me forever. We need to talk about what happened. About what I said."
Watch me, I thought, and continued staring out the window.
The vehicle took a sharp turn, and Sebastian's hand shot out to brace against the seat beside my head, his body automatically shifting to shield me. It was instinctive, protective, and I hated how my body responded—the flutter in my stomach, the way my pulse kicked up. I forced myself to remain perfectly still.
When the turn was complete, Sebastian didn't pull his arm back. Instead, he stayed there, leaning into my space, close enough that I could feel his breath.
"Look at me," he said softly, something raw in his voice now, dangerously close to pleading. "Please."
I closed my eyes instead, a clear refusal, and heard him exhale sharply. His hand moved, fingers ghosting over my shoulder in a tentative touch—almost asking, almost gentle.
I flinched away—not dramatically, just a small movement that put an inch of space between us. But in the confined space, that inch might as well have been a mile. I felt Sebastian go absolutely still, felt the moment my rejection registered.
"You're really going to do this," he said, voice gone quiet in a way that made my neck prickle.
I didn't answer. Didn't move. Just kept my eyes closed and breathing even, as if he was nothing but background noise.
"Fine," Sebastian said, and I heard him shift back. "Fine. If that's how you want to play this."
Minutes passed. Then I heard movement, the soft rustle of fabric as Sebastian shifted in his seat. When he spoke again, his voice was different—quieter, stripped of the usual arrogance and control.
"I'm sorry."
The words were so unexpected, so foreign coming from his mouth, that I almost turned to look at him. Almost. Instead, I kept my eyes on the window, but I found myself listening despite my determination not to.
"For using you as bait," he continued, and there was something raw in his tone now, something that sounded almost like vulnerability. "For not thanking you for saving my life. For every cage I've locked you in and every freedom I've stolen. I'm sorry for all of it."
I felt my fingers tighten on the edge of my jacket, but I didn't move, didn't acknowledge him.
"Marcus thinks I should tell you the truth," Sebastian said, and I heard him take a shaky breath. "The real truth, not the possessive claims or the ownership declarations." A pause, long enough that I almost thought he'd stopped. Then: "So here it is. I'm in love with you."
My breath caught, my heart stuttering in my chest. I felt the smallest crack in the wall I'd built around myself.
"I don't know when it happened," he continued, voice dropping lower, more intimate in the confined space. "Maybe it was the moment you save me on that land. Maybe it was when you slapped me in my sleep. Maybe it was when you walked into that hospital room and saved my life even though you could have just let me die." He laughed softly, bitterly. "Hell, maybe it was the moment you crashed into my brother's memorial and destroyed everything I'd carefully laid out. Maybe I've been falling since then and just didn't realize it."
I could feel him leaning forward, could sense him getting closer without touching me. "I know I'm a monster. I know I've done terrible things to you. But you're the only thing in this world that makes me feel human. "
Finally, I couldn't help it. I turned to look at him.
His amber eyes were fixed on me with an intensity that made my breath catch. In the dim light of the vehicle, I could see the fading handprints on his face, the cuts from the explosion, the exhaustion that lined his features. But more than that, I could see something I'd never seen before in Sebastian Blackwood's eyes—genuine fear. Vulnerability.
"You're right to be angry," he said, holding my gaze. "You're right to shut me out. But I can't let you go. Not because you're my property or my possession, but because I'm in love with you, and I don't know how to be anything else."
For a long moment, we just stared at each other in the back of that armored vehicle, the city lights playing across his face, the engine's hum the only sound between us. Then I found my voice, and it came out cold and cutting and utterly devastating.
"You don't get to do this," I said. "You don't get to hunt me and cage me and treat me like an animal, and then expect me to swoon because you finally figured out how to say 'I love you.' That's not how this works, Sebastian."
"I know," he said, and I saw something in his chest seem to crack. "I know that. But I had to tell you anyway. Because you deserve to know the truth, even if you never forgive me for everything else."
I studied his face, searching for the lies, the manipulation, the usual games he played. But all I saw was raw honesty, a vulnerability he'd never shown anyone else. It should have made me feel victorious. Instead, it just made me feel... confused. Lost.
"I don't know what to do with this," I said finally, my voice softer now, more uncertain. "I don't know how to reconcile the man who kidnapped me with the man sitting here telling me he loves me. I don't know how to feel about any of this."
"Then don't," Sebastian said. "Don't try to figure it out tonight. Just... let me be here. Let me prove that I can be more than a cage and a collar. Give me a chance to show you that I can change."
"And if I can't?" I asked. "If I can't ever forgive you? If I can't ever love you back?"
The question should have sent him back to his possessive, controlling instincts. But instead, he said something I never thought I'd hear from Sebastian Blackwood.
"Then I'll let you go."
"You're insane," I whispered.
"Probably," he agreed, and I felt him lean almost imperceptibly into my touch. "But I'm your kind of insane. And that has to count for something."
For a heartbeat, I thought about kissing him. About closing that final distance and letting myself taste the forgiveness he didn't deserve. But I couldn't. Not yet.