Chapter 183

Chapter 183: Chapter 183

Julian’s POV

My leather heels clicked a frantic, uncoordinated rhythm against the cold marble of the long corridor, echoing like gunfire against the dark wood paneling.

Click.

Click.

Click.

I didn’t stop.

I couldn’t, my legs seemed to take me far away.

Every step carried me farther away from him, yet Drake’s words followed me mercilessly.

You mistook my boredom and my anger for affection.

My fingers curled into fists.

You were a convenient distraction.

My breathing became heavier.

A shadow to fill an empty room for a night.

I shoved the doors of my private quarters open so violently that they slammed against the walls.

I stepped inside and immediately slammed them shut behind me.

The latch engaged with a final, satisfying thunk.

Silence.

For one heartbeat, there was silence.

Then the rage inside me erupted.

I threw my head back and released a sharp, ragged scream.

"Damn you!"

My hands slammed flat against the polished surface of my vanity mirror.

CRASH!

The glass fractured beneath my palms.

Spiderwebs of cracks spread across the mirror, splitting my reflection into dozens of grotesque fragments.

One reflection showed my eyes burning with fury.

Another showed the blood trickling down my cheek.

Another showed my lips trembling.

Another showed the woman I had spent centuries convincing myself I was.

Powerful and untouchable but now, I was broken.

The bloody scratches across my cheek throbbed beneath my fingertips. Fresh red drops rolled slowly toward my jaw before falling onto my ruined silk collar.

I stared at them.

My blood.

The sight should have hurt but it didn’t.

Physical pain was nothing compared to the humiliation Drake had inflicted upon me.

His words were worse than any blade.

I could still hear his cold, detached voice like he was bored as though the years I had spent beside him were nothing. Yes, I left but I was still beside him.

A breathless, hysterical laugh escaped my throat.

I wiped the blood from my cheek and dragged it across my lips.

"Distraction," I whispered.

My reflection stared back at me through the fractured glass.

"That’s what I was?"

My laugh came again, quieter this time.

More broken.

"Just a distraction?"

I had given centuries of my life to Drake’s house.

Centuries.

I had stood beside him during the border wars when the snow was red with blood and wolves howled through the mountains.

I had watched him tear enemies apart with his bare hands.

I had stood at his right side when the council challenged his authority.

When the old families plotted against him, I had been there.

When the council purges began, I had walked through halls soaked in blood without turning away.

I had defended his name when others whispered against him.

I had defended his throne.

His reputation.

His secrets.

And his bed.

Especially his bed.

Long before Lysander appeared, I had been there.

Before that filthy half-breed ever entered Drake’s territory, I had known what it felt like to belong beside him.

Or at least, I had believed I did.

I closed my eyes.

For years, I had told myself that Drake would eventually choose me.

He had simply been confused.

Lysander had been nothing more than an obsession born from curiosity. When Drake locked him away, I finally thought it was over.

I thought Lysander had finally become irrelevant.

I was wrong.

So terribly wrong.

My eyes opened slowly.

There was a living heir growing inside Lysander.

And suddenly everything made sense.

Drake hadn’t kept Lysander in that high-security cell because he was punishing him.

He wasn’t protecting him because of lingering affection.

He was protecting a bloodline.

My nails dug into my palms.

The realization settled inside my stomach like a lump of lead.

Drake had never been sentimental and now Lysander carried the one thing Drake could never willingly lose.

I looked toward the shattered mirror.

"So that’s why."

A bitter smile tugged at my lips.

"That’s why you couldn’t let him die."

Everything suddenly became painfully clear.

The strict orders forbidding anyone from entering the west wing without Drake’s permission.

Lysander wasn’t a prisoner anymore.

A living vessel containing something Drake considered priceless.

And that meant Lysander was untouchable.

I could withhold his meals.

Turn off his heaters.

Make his existence miserable.

I could whisper lies about him to the servants.

I could frame him for broken heirlooms or stolen valuables.

But the moment I truly tried to hurt him, Drake would know and he would come.

His precious little prisoner had become his greatest weakness.

I walked away from the mirror.

My heels clicked softly against the marble as I crossed the room.

I stopped beside the fireplace.

The flames had already died.

Only blackened logs remained.

Just like my hope.

I stared into the darkness.

Once the child was born, what would happen?

Would Drake simply release Lysander?

I almost laughed at the thought.

No.

Of course not.

Drake would never allow his heir to leave his territory.

He would build an even bigger cage.

Perhaps a beautiful one this time.

He would dress Lysander in expensive silks.

Surround him with guards.

Give him servants.

Jewels.

Comfort.

Anything that would make the cage look like a palace.

My throat tightened.

And what would that make me?

I knew the answer.

Nothing.

I pulled a clean silk handkerchief from my pocket and gently dabbed at the blood on my cheek.

One dab.

Then another.

I studied the red stain spreading across the white fabric.

My breathing steadied.

My heartbeat slowed.

I smiled.

"You think you’re safe now, don’t you, little bird?"

My voice was barely above a whisper.

But the thought brought a strange warmth to my chest.

Lysander probably believed Drake’s protection made him untouchable.

He probably believed the guards outside his cell were there to keep me away.

And they were.

Drake had made that very clear.

He had warned me never to step into the west wing again without his command.

Fine.

If Drake wanted obedience, I would give him obedience.

But there were many ways to destroy something without ever laying a hand upon it.

I leaned back against the velvet cushion.

My eyes drifted toward the ceiling.

The countless invisible threads that kept the estate functioning.

Everything had a weakness. Even an heir.

Especially one growing inside a frightened, exhausted young man whose mind had already been pushed beyond its limits.

The child’s first weeks would be the most delicate.

Lysander would be exhausted and Drake?

Drake would be watching him like a starving wolf guarding its last piece of meat.

That meant I couldn’t make a mistake.

There were a thousand invisible ways to make an accident happen.

I closed my eyes.

For the first time since leaving Drake’s presence, I felt calm.

He wanted an heir.

Lysander wanted freedom.

Drake wanted to protect his precious bloodline.

And I?

I wanted what had been taken from me.

If I couldn’t have those things, then neither of them would have theirs.

My lips slowly curved upward.

"You took everything from me."

I opened my eyes.

The fractured mirror reflected dozens of versions of my smile.

"So I’ll take everything from you."

My fingers tightened around the bloodstained handkerchief.

I imagined Lysander holding his newborn child.

The image made something dark twist inside my chest.

No.

That future would never exist.

I would make certain of it.

I would let him believe that his warning had finally frightened me into submission.

And while everyone watched my hands...

I would keep my eyes on the things they couldn’t see.

The fragile life growing inside Lysander.

A child could change everything.

But a child could also be the easiest thing in the world to lose.

I stopped at the doorway.

A cold smile spread across my face.

"Sleep well, little heir."

My voice dropped to a whisper.

"Because you won’t be here long enough to see the light of day."