Chapter Thirty

Avery's POV.

I took a step back, my shoes squelching against the wooden floor.

“If the answers will ruin me, then let me go,” I said, my voice gaining a desperate edge. “If I’m such a burden, such a danger to your secrets, open the gates. Let the storm have me.”

Lucian stood perfectly still, water dripping off his clothes. He tilted his head, listening to the frantic rhythm of my heart. A cold, dark smile touched his lips like a predator humoring its prey.

“You want a chance, Avery?” his voice hissed through the wind. “Fine. A game. The main gate is half a mile through the forest. If you reach it and pass through before I lay a hand on you, you are free.”

My breath hitched. “And if you catch me?”

“Then you stop fighting and come back,” he growled. “The gates are five minutes from here. Run—”

I didn't even wait for him to finish the sentence. I bolted.

I ran as fast as I could, my lungs screamed as I sucked in the freezing, wet air. My heart hammered in my chest, and my eyes widened as I tried to find the way out.

My feet seemed to find every fallen leaf and branch that littered the forest floor. How long had I been running? Forty seconds? Three minutes?

Time moved slowly and also too fast at the same time. The branches of the trees surrounding me pulled at my hair, clothes, and skin as if they wanted me to stay and embrace my fate.

The rain still poured down heavily, making it almost impossible to see more than five feet ahead. Wet strands of my hair clung to my face.

Water soaked through the sole of my shoes as the mud tried to claim them, dragging me down. I stumbled, my palm plunged into a deep, icy puddle.

“Get up,” I hissed to myself, pushing back to my feet.

In front of me, the trees finally seemed to thin out, and a clearing opened up. I stalled for a second before I saw the gate. In the distance, only a couple more meters ahead.

My feet took up running again. As I darted through the trees, my ear picked up on a sound in the distance. I didn't dare look behind. I threw myself forward, forcing my broken body to move as I wished.

I cast a glance over my shoulders, and the path behind me was empty. No shadow, no sound of footsteps. Had he let me go? Was his blindness finally to my advantage?

Hope was a cruel thing. It made me faster.

My feet stumbled once again as I whipped my head forward. I was close to the gate now, and I had a chance to get out.

But.

The anger that surged through me overpowered the fear that had been keeping me moving. Is this all I am? A game, a toy to control, and get a good enough head start so that it's more entertaining?

I reached the grass verge, the gate only fifty yards away. I reached out a hand, and my fingers brushed the iron bars so close I could feel the cold biting into my skin. One more step, and I would be free.

Something moved through the rain behind me too fast to be human. Before I could grab the cold iron of the gate, a hand clamped around my waist like a vice.

I was jerked backward with such force that my feet left the ground. I let out a jagged scream, thrashing against him, but it was like fighting the earth itself.

“Time is up, little wolf,” Lucian’s voice was right at my ear, low and terrifyingly calm. He wasn't even out of breath.

“No! I was right there!” I sobbed, my strength finally breaking. The adrenaline that had carried me evaporated, leaving behind a crushing, bone-deep exhaustion.

“You were never anywhere but where I allowed you to be,” he murmured.

I tried to twist free, but my body no longer obeyed me.

The world began to tilt. The flashes of lightning became too bright, the roar of the thunder too loud. My knees buckled.

Lucian caught me before I hit the mud, his arms locked around me, but his face was the last thing I saw, pale and ghostly under the red moon before the darkness swallowed me whole

***

I woke to the crackle of a fire. For a moment, I thought I was back in my old life. But as I shifted, the ache in my ribs reminded me of the terrace. The sting on my neck reminded me of the collar.

I opened my eyes. I wasn't in my small, cold room.

This was a sanctuary of shadows. Huge oak wardrobes, heavy velvet curtains, and a fireplace large enough to stand in. I was in Lucian’s chamber.

“Drink.”

I flinched. Lucian was sitting in a high-backed chair near the bed. He had changed into a dry shirt, his hair still damp and curling at his neck. He held out a crystal glass of amber liquid.

I pushed myself up, realizing with a jolt of horror that I wasn't wearing my torn, muddy dress anymore. I was enveloped in a shirt that clearly belonged to him — heavy charcoal silk that smelled overwhelmingly of his skin.

“You changed me,” I whispered, pulling the duvet up to my chin.

“You were freezing to death. I have no interest in a corpse,” he said, his voice flat. He rose and walked to the edge of the bed. He didn't need eyes to know exactly where I was.

He sat on the edge of the mattress, the weight of him dipping the surface, which made me roll slightly toward him.

“You lost,” he said simply. “That was always going to happen.” He reached out, his hand hovering before his knuckles grazed my cheek.

I should have pulled away. I should have screamed. But the warmth of the fire and the sheer exhaustion of the night had stripped away my armor.