Chapter 193

Chapter 193: Chapter 193

Julian’s pov

The silence in my private quarters was worse than the stinging slap Drake had delivered to my face.

For hours after the guards locked me inside, I paced the dark floorboards, my nails digging into the palms of my hands until my skin bled silver.

I had spent centuries at his side. I knew every shift in his mood, every subtle flicker of his eyes, and the precise weight of his pride. I had truly believed that exposing Lysander’s trek to Darius’s compound and the uncertainty surrounding the child taking root in his belly would be enough to drive the stupid bastard out of the estate forever. I thought Drake’s ancient pride would recoil from the taint of betrayal.

I was wrong.

Drake hadn’t thrown Lysander into the dungeons. He hadn’t stripped him of his rank or cast him into the snow. Instead, he had built a gilded cage in the west wing, posted his personal guards outside the threshold, and personally inspected every drop of tonic sent to the hybrid’s room. He was protecting him. He was hovering over him like a prized vault holding a precious treasure.

I was the enemy.

Words will not break this bond, I realized, stopping near the hearth as the fire flickered low. Arguments will only drive Drake to shelter him further.

As long as Lysander remained under this roof, carrying a child that might inherit Drake’s royal blood, I would always be pushed into the shadows. If I wanted my place back at the his side, Lysander couldn’t simply be disgraced.

He had to vanish entirely.

Leaving the estate under house arrest was child’s play for someone who had memorized the domain’s secret passages over three centuries.

While the night guards rotated outside my front door, I slipped through the hidden panel behind the bookcase in my study. The stone corridor beneath the east wing was damp and narrow, winding deep into the mountain rock until it opened into a desolate ravine far beyond the outer boundary wards.

I wrapped a plain, dark cloak around my shoulders, pulling the hood deep over my face to hide the distinct silver sheen of my hair.

The journey to the neutral borderlands took three hours of swift, silent movement through the mist-shrouded pines.

In the cellar of a ruined stone tavern nestled near the sharp valley cliffs, two men were waiting for me.

Darius sat at the head of a rough-hewn wooden table, his massive, broad-shouldered frame leaning back in a high-backed chair. His dark eyes flickered with amusement as I stepped into the dim, candlelight room, his hybrid wolf instincts instantly catching my scent. Beside him stood Gideon, his sharp, aristocratic face set in a calm, calculating expression, his fingers lightly tapping against the hilt of a curved silver blade.

"Look who comes crawling through the mist," Darius purred, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that echoed off the damp stone walls. "The fallen favorite. I heard Drake put you in a cage too, Julian."

My jaw tightened, a flash of white-hot anger flaring in my chest, but I forced my expression into a smooth, composed mask as I pulled back my hood.

"My position in the estate is my own concern, Darius," I said smoothly, stepping toward the table. "I am not here to exchange insults. I am here to offer you both something you have been salivating over for weeks."

Gideon narrowed his eyes, his voice dropping into a sharp, quiet line. "Lysander."

"Precisely," I replied, resting my palms against the edge of the wood, leaning toward them. "Drake has him locked in the west wing. He has surrounded him with elite guards, high-tier wards, and clinical care. But Drake is blinded by his own anger and confusion. He thinks he is keeping Lysander safe, but the entire domain is fracturing under the strain."

Darius chuckled, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table, his dark eyes burning with predatory interest. "Drake is a fool if he thinks he can keep a wolf caged forever. Lysander belongs to the wild, not in a gilded box."

"He doesn’t belong to the wild," I corrected sharply, my silver-tinted eyes flaring with disdain. "And he certainly doesn’t belong with Drake. But as long as he stays in that wing, Drake will never focus on domain security, nor will he allow either of your factions to negotiate territorial boundaries. He is entirely consumed by the hybrid and the unborn child."

Gideon folded his arms over his chest, his gaze analytical and cold. "And what are you proposing, Julian? You didn’t risk Drake’s wrath just to complain about his domestic troubles."

"I am proposing a solution that solves all our problems," I whispered, my voice laced with a dark, persuasive sweetness. "I am going to hand Lysander to you."

A heavy silence fell over the cellar. Darius tilted his head, a dark, slow smile carving its way onto his rough features.

"You want us to kidnap him?" Darius asked, raising an eyebrow. "Drake would tear the world apart searching for him."

"Not if it looks like Lysander chose to run," I countered, a cruel smirk curling my lips. "We stage an escape. We make it appear as though Lysander waited for the right moment, disarmed the guards, and fled the estate to return to you, Darius or Gideon’s."

"Why would Drake believe that?" Gideon questioned softly.

"Because Drake already believes Lysander betrayed him," I explained, taking a step closer to Gideon. "He already smells your influence on his skin, Darius. He knows Lysander ran to your compound once before when he was scared. If Lysander vanishes in the middle of the night, leaving no blood and no signs of a struggle, Drake’s fragile pride will do the rest of the work. He won’t go on a crusade; he will shut his heart, lock the gates, and let him go."

Darius let out a rich, low laugh that vibrated in the small room. "Brilliant. Drake loses his prize, his pride takes a fatal blow, and I get the hybrid back under my thumb."

"And what is your price, Julian?" Gideon asked, remaining cautious. "What do you gain from giving away the wolf?"

"I gain my man back," I said flatly, my tone dropping into a cold, absolute register. "With Lysander gone, the distraction disappears. Drake will have no choice but to return to his old life, to his true court... and to me. But we must act quickly. Drake’s guards are vigilant, but I know the exact rotation schedules and ward frequencies."

Gideon looked at Darius, exchanging a long, silent glance before turning back to me with a slow, calculating nod.

"How do we get past Drake?" Gideon asked softly. "Even if you open the doors, Drake’s pureblood senses will pick up our presence the moment we cross the courtyard."

"Leave Drake to me," I purred, a dark, triumphant spark burning in my silver eyes as I pulled a tiny glass vial of sleeping draught from my inner pocket and set it gently on the table. "I will make sure Drake sleeps like a dead man when you arrive."