Chapter 142: Countdown to Ceremony

"That's it? We crash a wedding? That's your brilliant plan?" Isolde's voice echoed in the empty service corridor as we hurried toward the exit.

The remaining counteragent vial felt like a ticking bomb in my purse, its blue glow occasionally visible through the fabric.

"Not quite," I replied, checking my watch. Five hours till dawn. Nineteen hours until Victoria's ceremony. "We need Helena's help and someone who can bypass Palmer's security."

The marks on my wrist flared with searing pain, forcing me to bite back a scream.

The corrupted patterns had spread up my forearm now, crimson tendrils snaking their way toward my elbow.

Only tiny islands of gold remained, fighting a losing battle against the corruption.

Each pulse felt like barbed wire being dragged through my veins.

Isolde's car waited where we'd left it, hidden behind the maintenance building.

As we slid inside, her phone buzzed with a message from Marcus:

[Meeting compromised. V's people at Le Blanc. Need new location.]

"Shit," Isolde muttered, starting the engine. "Victoria's onto us. Where do we go now?"

I thought for a moment, weighing our dwindling options. "Preston & Hayes. Thomas might be working late."

Rain pounded the windshield as Isolde navigated through Manhattan's deserted streets.

The pain in my arm was becoming unbearable, each heartbeat pushing the crimson corruption further through my system.

I couldn't stop thinking about Caspian's face at the gala—the hollow look in his eyes as he stood beside Victoria, the way he'd looked at me in that hallway with such raw desperation.

"You still love him, don't you?" Isolde asked quietly, breaking the silence.

"Does it matter?" I replied, staring out at the rain-slicked streets. "After everything Palmer's done to us..."

"It matters," she insisted. "Why else would you be risking your life breaking into secret labs and planning to crash engagement parties?"

I didn't answer. I couldn't. The truth was too raw, too painful to admit even to myself.

The law firm was dark when we arrived, but a single light burned in Thomas Hayes's office.

The old attorney looked up in surprise as we entered, his perpetual frown deepening at the sight of my pallor and shaking hands.

"Winters. You look like death warmed over." His bluntness was oddly comforting. "Something to do with those marks everyone's been whispering about?"

I rolled up my sleeve, revealing the corrupted patterns.

Thomas's eyes widened slightly—the closest he came to showing shock.

"Palmer's genetic experiment," I explained, my voice steadier than I felt. "They're completing the final phase tomorrow night at Victoria's 'engagement ceremony.' If they succeed, I die and Caspian Drake becomes permanently bound to her through these marks."

Thomas studied the patterns, his legal mind clearly processing implications. "And you need what from me, exactly? Legal advice won't help against genetic weapons."

"Just a secure place to meet," Isolde said. "Victoria's people have eyes everywhere else."

Thomas nodded toward his conference room. "Use it. But I don't want to know details. Plausible deniability and all that."

Within an hour, Helena arrived with her medical kit, face grim as she examined my marks.

"The corruption's accelerated dramatically," she said, scanning the patterns with a handheld device. "I'm seeing 87% conversion to crimson. At this rate, you'll experience neural collapse within 24 hours."

She extracted a syringe filled with bright blue liquid. "This might slow the process. It's a more concentrated version of what you found."

The injection burned like liquid fire, making me gasp.

Almost immediately, the marks responded—tiny flecks of gold brightening briefly against the crimson backdrop.

"It's temporary," Helena warned. "And each dose becomes less effective. Your best chance is stopping that ceremony."

"And if we don't?" I asked, finally voicing the question no one wanted to hear.

Helena's expression softened with rare compassion. "First paralysis, then organ failure, and finally brain death. It won't be quick or painless."

I nodded, swallowing hard.

The stakes couldn't be clearer.

Marcus arrived next, carrying a case containing communications equipment.

"Victoria's beefed up security. The ceremony venue has three checkpoints, biometric scanners, and armed guards."

"We've faced worse," I said, though uncertainty gnawed at my confidence.

"Not like this," Marcus replied, showing us building schematics. "Palmer's going all out—ceremonial stage with some kind of specialized equipment, private medical team, and Sebastian's duplicate overseeing everything."

"It's not just an engagement announcement," Helena explained. "The marks require specific frequencies to complete the transference. They've built what amounts to a neurological rewiring chamber disguised as a wedding venue."

I examined the venue layout, searching for weaknesses. "What about these service corridors behind the stage?"

"Heavily guarded," Marcus replied. "But..." He hesitated.

"But what?" Isolde pressed.

"Danny Reyes contacted me. He says he can get us backstage access. Apparently, Caspian saved his career last season, and he owes him."

Hope flickered—dim but present. "We'll need perfect timing. The counteragent has to be administered before Victoria activates the final protocol but after security relaxes."

"And if we're caught?" Isolde asked quietly.

I met her gaze steadily. "Then I die anyway. But at least I'll go down fighting."

Helena's phone chimed with an alert. She checked it, her expression tightening.

"Caspian's marks just spiked in activity. They're at 91% corruption—worse than yours. They must have accelerated his treatment for the ceremony."

The image of Caspian standing beside Victoria, his eyes hollow as she announced their engagement, twisted something inside me.

No matter what had happened between us, I couldn't let him become Palmer's puppet.

"Get some rest," Isolde urged. "Tomorrow's going to test all of us."

As the others discussed tactical details, I stared at my corrupted marks. Somewhere across the city, Caspian was fighting the same battle inside his veins. A battle he was losing faster than I was.

"Hold on," I whispered, unsure if our connection could still transmit anything beyond pain. "Just a little longer."

My fingers traced the fading gold patterns, remembering how they'd once glowed brightly whenever Caspian was near.

Whatever Palmer had done to us, whatever Victoria was trying to destroy—it had been real. That connection had saved our lives more than once.

Thomas appeared in the doorway, his perpetual scowl deepened by concern.

"Whatever you're planning, Winters—be careful. Palmer doesn't play by legal rules."

I nodded, determination hardening within me.

"Neither do I. Not anymore."

The counteragent in my veins fought a losing battle against the corruption, but it had given me something invaluable—a few more hours of clarity.

A few more hours to stop Victoria's ceremony and save both Caspian and myself from the poison flowing through our veins.

Tomorrow, one way or another, it would end.