Chapter 12: A Cold Dinner

Wren

The red silk of my dress still vibrated against my ribs, a hum so subtle it felt like a second heartbeat beneath my skin.

Outside the balcony, the impossible crimson line had vanished into the fog the moment the guards flooded the courtyard, but its image remained burned behind my eyes.

Kaelen was out there.

He was alive.

And he was moving.

“Step away from the glass, Wren.”

Lautaro’s voice held none of the rage I expected. It was smooth, measured, and twice as dangerous because of it.

He stood beside the grand mahogany dining table, pouring dark wine into two heavy crystal goblets.

The chaos in the lower vaults had been sealed behind the fortress walls. Only the rain against the stained-glass windows broke the silence.

My father was gone, sent to deal with the breached perimeter.

Leaving me alone with Lautaro.

I didn’t step away immediately.

“Are you afraid, Commander?” I asked, staring into the darkness. “A single escapee from your pristine catacombs, and your guards are running like headless chickens.”

“A doctor and a stolen ledger hardly constitute a revolution, my sweet bird.”

He turned and held out a goblet.

“Come. Sit. You haven’t eaten since yesterday, and I prefer my conquests conscious when they speak.”

I walked toward the table, the heavy skirt of my bridal dress whispering against the floor.

The dining hall was built like a trap. A long, narrow room with tapestries covering the stone walls, one entry door, and two guards stationed outside.

I sat opposite him.

The bone spike remained hidden inside my corset, pressed against my lower rib. Every breath reminded me of what I had been prepared to do.

“You speak as though this marriage is already decided,” I said, ignoring the wine he pushed toward me.

Lautaro settled into his chair and cut into a piece of dark venison.

“It is a business transaction.”

He chewed slowly before continuing.

“Your father gets his seat back on the Council. My family gains access to the Sterling bloodline and the Silk Exchange vaults.”

His eyes traveled over my face.

“And you get to leave that rotting wing of the asylum.”

“I was never mad, Lautaro.”

“I know.”

The words landed like lead.

I froze, my hand hovering above the fork.

“You knew?”

A slow smile curved his lips.

“Did you think I would tether my family’s name to a mindless shell? I knew your father was replacing the neuroleptics with sugar. I knew he was keeping you trapped in that room, waiting until the market made this alliance profitable.”

He leaned forward.

“I bought you from him precisely because you didn’t break.”

His voice dropped.

“A broken woman is useless to me. But a woman who survives three years of psychological warfare in the dark while pretending to be insane?”

His gaze sharpened.

“That is someone worth owning.”

Disgust twisted through my stomach.

“I am not a weapon for you to wield against my father.”

“You aren’t a weapon yet.”

He rested his chin against his steepled fingers.

“Right now, you are merely the prize. But tomorrow night, when the blood-bond is sealed at the altar, everything you possess your name, your father’s secrets, even the thread of silk tethered to your wrist becomes mine.”

“And what if I kill you before sunrise?”

The threat slipped from my lips before I could stop it.

Lautaro didn’t flinch.

Instead, he laughed softly.

“There she is.”

His eyes flashed with dark amusement.

“That is the fire I paid for.”

He reached across the table and caught my hand before I could pull away.

His thumb pressed against the pulse in my wrist, directly over the silver-and-red weave of my gown.

“Try it, Wren. Plunge whatever needle you’ve hidden in that corsetry into my neck.”

His grip tightened.

“See if my men don’t string up your brave little doctor in the courtyard before your blood even hits the floor.”

My breath caught.

“Kaelen is far away from here.”

“Is he?”

Lautaro tilted his head.

“He has the medical ledger, yes. But he left something behind when he blew the gas lines.”

He reached into his coat and tossed a small leather-bound object onto the table.

A pocket watch.

Its silver casing was cracked, stained with fresh soot and a dark smear of blood.

My heart stopped.

I knew those initials.

K.V.

“He didn’t escape the catacombs, Wren.”

Lautaro’s voice dropped to an icy whisper.

“My guards didn’t miss him. He set off those explosives from the inside to draw the perimeter patrol away from the eastern wall.”

His eyes held mine.

“Away from you.”

I stared at the blood on the watch.

The room seemed to spin.

The silver threads in my dress suddenly warmed again, pulsing against my waist.

This time, it didn’t feel like a beacon.

It felt like a dying breath.

“He’s in the lower drain shafts beneath this very room,” Lautaro murmured.

He leaned closer, his breath hot against my cheek.

“Drowning in the gas he released.”

His fingers tightened around my wrist until they went numb.

“And you are going to sit here, finish your dinner, and smile at me while he suffocates.”

My stomach twisted.

“You’re lying.”

“Am I?”

His smile widened.

“Then listen.”

I held my breath.

Nothing.

Then

A heavy, dull thud echoed from beneath our feet.

The floorboards shuddered.

Wine rippled inside our glasses.

Lautaro’s expression changed.

For the first time, the confidence disappeared from his eyes.

Another thud came from below.

Closer.

I instinctively pulled against his grip.

“What was that?”

He released me and stood.

The guards outside the door shouted something I couldn’t make out.

Then the massive iron chandelier suspended above the dining table snapped its central chain.

My eyes widened.

“Lautaro!”

The chandelier came crashing down between us.

Glass exploded across the table.

Flames erupted.

Melting wax scattered over the white tablecloth as the entire room plunged into chaos.

And beneath the screaming metal and shattered crystal, I heard something else.

A voice.

Faint.

Hoarse.

But unmistakable.

“Wren…”