Chapter 195

Chapter 195: Chapter 195

Julian’s pov

The corridor outside the Sovereign’s study was silent, illuminated only by the faint amber glow of the wall sconces.

I stepped through the doorway, pulling the heavy double doors shut behind me until the latch engaged with a soft, muffled click. The two guards stationed in the hallway straightened up, their eyes scanning my face for any sign of trouble.

"How is the Sovereign, Lord Julian?" the lead guard asked, his hand resting casually on the pommel of his sidearm.

"He is exhausted, as expected," I replied, forcing a weary, sorrowful sigh onto my lips as I adjusted the cuffs of my linen tunic. "The wine helped ease his tension. He has finally drifted off to rest. He strictly commanded that no one disturb him until morning, not even for routine territorial reports."

The guards nodded in understanding, visibly relaxing. "Understood. We will keep the corridor quiet."

"Thank you," I murmured, bowing my head politely before turning on my heel and walking down the hallway with calm, unhurried steps.

My heart was hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird, but I kept my posture relaxed, my breathing steady and even. The ancient narcotic was flowing through Drake’s veins, pinning him to his leather chair in a sleep so profound that even a sudden drop in core temperature would not wake him for hours. The hardest part of the plan was done, but time was a luxury I could not afford to waste.

Instead of returning to my assigned quarters, I turned down the narrow stone passage that led toward the central ward-control vault beneath the east wing.

The estate’s defensive network was an intricate web of pureblood magic and modern digital rune-craft, designed to track every soul crossing the boundary lines. Normally, tampering with the west wing’s security grid would trigger a blaring alarm across the entire palace. But as the Sovereign’s long-standing advisor, I had spent decades studying the layout of the control console. I knew the master bypass sequences by heart.

I slipped into the dark control room, my boots making no sound against the cold floorboards. The main terminal hovered in the center of the space, casting a soft blue light over the stone walls.

I approached the console, my pale fingers gliding across the glowing interface.

First, I routed the west wing’s door sensors into a localized feedback loop, making the system report that the iron deadbolts were locked and secure, even when disengaged. Next, I reduced the sensitivity of the boundary wards along the western mountain ridge, creating a narrow, unmonitored blind spot right through the forest path.

A quiet chime echoed from the console, flashing a soft green icon: WEST WING SECURITY OVERRIDDEN.

A dark, triumphant smile carved its way onto my lips. The vault holding the hybrid was officially unlocked.

I left the control vault and made my way toward the palace’s side exit—a low, arched wooden doorway that opened directly onto the outer courtyard near the cliffside gardens.

Outside, the weather was turning wild.

A fierce mountain storm had rolled in over the peaks, bringing howling winds that whipped through the pine trees and a heavy, freezing rain that washed away all traces of scent and footprints. Thunder rumbled in the distance, shaking the stone foundations of the estate. It was the perfect cover. The storm would muffle any unusual sounds and blind the outer watchtowers.

I pushed the side door open an inch, peering out into the swirling grey rain.

Right on cue, a dark, hooded figure emerged from the shadow of the perimeter wall, moving with the silent, fluid speed of a practiced predator. The figure crossed the wet stone courtyard without making a sound, vanishing into the alcove where I stood.

Gideon pulled back his damp hood, his sharp, aristocratic face slick with rain, his pale eyes burning with quiet intensity in the dim light of the doorway.

"Is it done?" Gideon asked softly, his voice barely a whisper above the roaring wind outside.

"Drake is asleep in his study," I replied, stepping back to let him cross the threshold. "He will not wake for hours. The security wards along the west corridor are disarmed, and the cameras are stuck in a ten-minute loop. You have a clear path straight to the hybrid’s room."

Gideon wiped a drop of water from his cheekbone, glancing down the quiet, dimly lit hallway with a calculating look. "And the guards stationed outside Lysander’s door?"

"I routed their comms channels," I said, a cruel smirk touching my lips. "A false security alert will ping their devices in two minutes, directing them to check the lower perimeter gates. You will have a five-minute window to enter the room and take him."

Gideon nodded in approval, his fingers brushing against the pocket of his coat, where I knew he carried his mind-compulsion runes. "You have played your part well, Julian. If this goes as planned, the wolf will be far beyond the border before Drake even opens his eyes."

"Make sure he doesn’t come back, Gideon," I warned softly, my silver-tinted eyes flaring with cold, absolute resolve. "If he slips through your fingers, or if you allow him to contact Drake, everything we built tonight collapses."

"He will not come back," Gideon promised, his tone dropping into a icy, confident register. "Once I place him in the border fortress, he will be completely isolated from the world. Drake will find an empty room, a broken lock, and no trace of where his precious mate went."

A quiet beep echoed from my pocket comms device. I checked the screen: the false alarm had just dispatched the two guards away from the west wing corridor.

"Your window is open," I whispered, gesturing toward the west passageway. "Go."

Gideon gave a single, sharp nod, pulled his dark hood back over his head, and melted into the shadows of the hallway like a ghost.

I stayed in the alcove for a brief moment, listening to the roaring wind and rain battering the stone walls outside. My chest rose and fell in short, excited breaths.