Chapter 139

Chapter 139: Chapter 139

Lysander’s pov

That call haunted me for the rest of the day till I slept off.

The next day, I acted as normally as I could till Drake was ready to leave the house.

I watched the heavy iron gates swing shut, the red glow of the perimeter blood wards pulsing once before settling back into a quiet, invisible hum.

The moment the taillights vanished around the mountain bend, my heart slammed into my ribs.

This is it.

My hands were shaking as I pulled away from the window. The room was dead silent except for the faint hum of the animals. Drake thought I was resting. He thought I was upstairs wrapped in a blanket, slowly recovering from my "breakdown" on the terrace, eating the warm soup the kitchen staff had left outside my door.

Instead, I pulled a dark, heavy hoodie over my head, tugging the drawstring tight. I laced up a pair of sturdy leather boots, shoving the burner phone deep into my front pocket alongside a small, silver-plated hunting blade I’d taken from the studio display.

I walked to the bedroom door, pulling it open just half an inch.

Down the hallway, the estate was quiet, but I knew the security grid by heart. Two house guards were stationed in the main foyer below. Another guard walked the outer stone courtyard every twenty minutes. The perimeter wards were keyed to Drake’s bloodline, heavy, aggressive, and designed to burn any uninvited guest to ash.

Getting out wasn’t about breaking the wards. It was about using the authority Drake had given me.

I took a slow, steadying breath, pressing my palm against the inner lining of my jacket where the small silver pendant Drake had given me rested against my collarbone. It carried a drop of his royal blood, a token meant to let me move freely through the house and grounds without triggering the internal alarms.

I stepped out into the corridor, keeping my boots light against the thick runner rug.

I didn’t take the main stone staircase. Instead, I ducked down the service hallway behind the kitchen, where the estate’s wine cellar and staff access tunnels connected to the lower rock face. The air grew instantly cooler, smelling of damp earth and unvarnished stone.

I reached the reinforced steel door at the end of the tunnel. The digital keypad glowed a pale green. I typed in the five-digit passcode Drake had given me on our first day here, holding my breath as the lock disengaged with a quiet, heavy thunk.

I pushed the door open just enough to slip through, stepping out into the cold, wet shadows beneath the north deck.

The mountain rain hit my face instantly, needle-sharp and freezing. I pulled my hood low, crouching behind the heavy stone pillars that supported the terrace.

Fifty yards away, near the edge of the manicured lawn, a guard in a dark coat stood beneath a broad pine, his gaze tracking the fog rolling across the driveway. His back was turned to the lower rock path that led down toward the boundary line.

I waited. One breath. Two.

The moment the guard turned his head to check the eastern courtyard, I moved.

I stayed low, my boots digging into the wet grass and slick mud, darting from the shadow of one massive pine to the next. The rain muffled the sound of my footsteps, the heavy scent of damp earth masking my hybrid signature. My heart was hammering so loud in my ears I was terrified the guard would hear it, but I didn’t stop.

I reached the outer tree line, the exact spot where the perimeter wards hummed through the soil.

I stopped at the edge of the glow, my chest heaving. The magic felt like a hot, vibrating wall of static just inches from my skin, tasting faintly of ozone and Drake’s sandalwood essence.

I pulled the silver pendant out from under my sweater, holding it tight in my fist, and took a step forward.

The ward flared brightly for a fraction of a second, the energy washing over my skin like a warm breeze before recognizing the royal mark and parting smoothly around me.

I broke through the boundary, tumbling into the thick, wild brush of the unwarded forest beyond.

I didn’t look back. I couldn’t. If I looked back at the warm amber lights of the house, at the sanctuary Drake had built for me, the guilt would crush me where I stood. I was betraying his trust. I was walking out of his fortress and stepping straight into the viper’s pit.

But I have to know.

I pulled the burner phone from my pocket, checking the encrypted coordinates Darius’s operative had sent three hours ago. A secluded clearing five miles north, tucked near an abandoned logging road outside the territory limits.

I began to run.

The forest was a dark, chaotic maze of slippery roots, sharp briars, and thick fog. My lungs burned as I pushed through the brush, the rain soaking straight through my hoodie, my hands scraped and muddy from a dozen close slips. But the raw, frantic desperation driving my legs forward was stronger than the cold.

Every time a branch whipped across my face, every time the wind howled through the high pines, I saw Gideon’s dark, hollow eyes staring at me through the glass.

If Darius is lying, if this is a trap... at least I’ll know.

It took me nearly an hour of grueling, frantic pacing through the rain to reach the old logging road. The trees finally thinned out, opening into a muddy, gravel clearing surrounded by rusted iron oil drums and decaying timber stacks.

Parked in the shadow of a sprawling pine tree was a sleek, matte-black sedan with tinted windows. Its engine was idling with a low, barely audible purr, exhaust curling up into the freezing night air.

I slowed down to a walk, my boots crunching heavily on the wet gravel, my hand slipping inside my jacket to grip the hilt of the small silver blade.

The rear door of the sedan opened with a soft click.

A tall figure stepped out into the rain, holding a broad black umbrella. He wore a sharp, tailored suit that looked entirely too clean for the muddy clearing, his dark eyes scanning me with a cool, calculating amusement as I approached.

Darius’s head operative.

"You actually came," the man said, his voice smooth and dry over the patter of the rain against his umbrella. "I thought your mate would keep you on a tight leash. We were beginning to think you’d lose your nerve."

"Where is Darius?" I rasped, my voice raw from the cold air, my chest heaving as I stopped ten feet from the car. "Where are the answers he promised me?"

The man smiled, a thin, sharp expression that didn’t reach his eyes. He stepped aside, gesturing toward the open leather interior of the sedan.

"Mr Thorne doesn’t conduct business in the mud," the operative said softly. "Get in, Lysander. He’s waiting for you at the compound."

I looked at the dark interior of the car. I knew what stepping into that vehicle meant. Once that door closed, I was leaving Drake’s protection entirely. I was handing myself over to the man who wanted to tear Drake’s world apart.

My hand tightened around the blade in my pocket. I looked back once toward the dark, fog-drenched mountain where the estate lay hidden, feeling the heavy, painful tug of the mating bond pulling at my chest.

Forgive me, Drake, I thought, my throat tight with unshed tears.

I turned back to the car, took a deep breath, and stepped inside.