Chapter 85 Take laws into my hands

Chapter 85 Take laws into my hands
Elara’s POV

Raye’s eyes widened in alarm. “Elara, you need to go back. Now. Before they notice.”

I nodded quickly, my heart racing so hard I could feel it in my throat. “I’m sorry — I have to leave. I’ll find you later.”

She gave me a quick, understanding nod, her hand squeezing mine one last time. “Be careful.”

I turned and hurried back toward Zachariah’s office after quickly making the tea, the silver tray feeling heavier than it had any right to. My hands trembled slightly as I carried it, the porcelain cups clinking softly against each other. My mind was still spinning with a thousand questions and fears, but one thing was becoming painfully clear: I couldn’t rely on anyone else to save me. Not anymore. I would have to find my own way out.

I stopped outside the office door and drew in a slow, steadying breath, trying to calm the storm inside my chest. My fingers tightened around the tray handles as I nudged the door open with my shoulder and stepped inside.

The room felt even heavier than before. Zachariah and Vincent were still deep in conversation, their voices low and measured like two men discussing business deals rather than human lives. I crossed the room quietly and placed the tray on the polished desk before pouring the tea with practiced care. The amber liquid flowed smoothly into the first cup, and I handed it to Zachariah. He accepted it without taking his eyes off Vincent. I then poured a second cup and placed it in front of Vincent, who merely inclined his head in silent thanks. His fingers wrapped around the porcelain, but he made no effort to lift it.

That wasn’t my business, I reminded myself firmly as I stepped back. But as I had come in, I had noticed a room at the end of the hallway just beside his office. Maybe that was it… the passage Raye’s mother had mentioned. But was it really a way out? The thought sent a flicker of desperate hope through me, quickly followed by a wave of fear. If I was wrong, if I got caught…

Zachariah lifted the cup to his lips and took a slow sip before setting it back down. He leaned back comfortably in his chair, preparing to speak.

Then…

His words caught in his throat.

Perfect. Just as I had wanted it.

The cup paused halfway back to the desk.

A faint crease appeared between his brows.

He blinked once.

Then again.

His gaze lost focus for the briefest moment before he steadied himself against the armrest.

Vincent’s eyes found mine across the room. I looked away quickly, my heart hammering. I had acted too fast — maybe too recklessly — but it was for the best. I couldn’t wait any longer. Not after everything.

“What…” Zachariah murmured, his voice suddenly rougher than before.

The porcelain cup slipped from his fingers.

It shattered against the marble floor.

Tea splashed across the polished tiles as the sharp sound echoed through the office. Zachariah lurched forward, one hand gripping the edge of the desk so tightly his knuckles turned white. His breathing grew uneven, and for the first time since I had met him, genuine confusion crossed his face.

Vincent rose slowly from his chair.

His own untouched cup remained exactly where I had placed it.

“What the hell did you do?” Vincent’s voice was low, but there was a sharp edge to it — anger mixed with something that sounded almost like fear.

I lifted my chin, refusing to back down even as my heart raced wildly. “What needed to be done.”

Vincent’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening. “Elara…”

“Don’t,” I cut in, my voice trembling with a mix of anger and determination. “You can go if you want to. But Zachariah won’t be waking up soon. I’m leaving this damn place.”

The words hung in the air between us, heavy and final. I could see the frustration flashing across Vincent’s face — the way his hands clenched at his sides, the way his eyes darkened with a storm of emotions he was trying so hard to control.

“I told you to keep that powder until it was useful,” he said, his voice low and strained. “Not to use it the first chance you got. Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“I know exactly what I’ve done,” I shot back, my voice rising despite the fear twisting in my stomach. “I’m tired of waiting. I’m tired of hoping you’d save me. I’m tired of being someone’s prisoner. If you want to stay here and play your games with him, then fine. But I’m done.”

Vincent ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. “You think this is a game? You think I came here for fun? I was trying to get you out safely. Without starting a war we can’t win.”

“Well, maybe I don’t want to wait for your version of safe,” I whispered, my voice cracking with emotion. Tears burned at the corners of my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. “I’ve lost everything, Vincent. My mom. My home. My freedom. I’m not losing myself too.”

He stared at me for a long moment, something raw and conflicted flashing in his eyes. For a second, I thought he might argue more. Instead, he glanced at Zachariah, who was now slumped forward slightly, breathing shallow but steady.

Vincent exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair again. “We need to move. Now. Before anyone realizes what’s happened.”

He stepped closer, his hand hovering near my arm like he wanted to pull me toward him but wasn’t sure if I’d let him. “This wasn’t the plan, Elara. But… we’ll make it work. Together.”

I nodded, my heart still racing with a confusing mix of fear, anger, and reluctant hope. “Together,” I whispered.

But as we moved toward the door, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we had just set something in motion that none of us could control.