Chapter 12 - Propping Up Decoys

The morning sunlight filtered through the heavy drapes of Ayra’s room, bathing the space in a dull, golden glow. 

The first rays of dawn painted the sky in muted gold and pink, but, unsurprisingly, the beauty of the morning was lost on Ayra. 

She awoke with a knot in her stomach, the weight of what lay ahead pressing heavily on her chest. 

Today was her wedding day.

She had thought it would be more... Joyful. Oh, she certainly was shivering, but not from anticipation or joy - she was nervous. So very nervous. 

Although she couldn’t afford to falter now, the nerves were just part of the day. 

See, Ayra had spent sleepless nights piecing together a plan, but all those nights had served to tell her that there was very little she could do to manage how things panned out. 

She was going to have to go with the flow and improvise on the fly - which she absolutely DREADED - and now, with her escape just hours away, there was no turning back.

And there was also Lisbeth's visit last night plaguing her.

Pushing that particular matter to the very back of her mind and dumping it in the shit hole where it belonged, Ayra slipped out of bed, slid over to the door, and opened it a sliver. 

The mansion was already buzzing with activity. Maids bustled through the halls carrying flowers and decorations, their hurried footsteps and whispered conversations creating a low hum of chaos. 

She wasn't quite sure - because no one had bothered to tell her the itinerary for her wedding - but it seemed like there would be a dual reception. One at the venue and the other here. 

She shut the door and, careful not to draw attention, slipped the burner phone Eleanor had gotten her into the pocket of her dress and padded toward the en-suite bathroom.

Ayra perched on the edge of the clawfoot tub, the cool porcelain biting against her skin. She took a deep breath, forcing her trembling hands to steady, and turned on the phone.

For a while she just stared at it, her fingers hovering over the keypad.

Eleanor had been her lifeline, her escape route meticulously planned and guaranteed to lead her to safety. But Ayra did not trust it entirely. 

Trust was a luxury she couldn’t afford—not even with Eleanor. If her father suspected her, or if Lisbeth caught wind of her plans, everything would fall apart.

And if the sudden hostility Lisbeth had shown was any proof, she and their father most likely suspected something already. And if THEY did, then Lucian most likely did too. 

And, fucking hells, Lucian scared the living daylights out of her. 

The device hummed to life, its screen casting a dim glow in the shadowed room. Ayra quickly navigated to the dial pad and punched in the number she had memorized.

It rang twice before a familiar voice answered.

“Who the hell is it? It’s far too early for calls,” she said groggily. 

“Sarah?” Ayra whispered.

“Ayra?” Sarah’s tone was a mix of confusion and concern. She went silent after that.

'At least the bitch has the presence of mind to find things awkward after ratting me out last time,' Ayra thought. 

But it was alright. Ayra had long since known that Sarah was a two-faced bitch. And even bitches could be used. 

“Sarah, I need your help,” Ayra whispered, her voice urgent but careful not to rise above the sound of running water she had turned on to mask her conversation.

“Help? What kind of help?” Sarah asked curiously. 

Ayra swallowed hard, her mouth dry. It was up to her acting skills now. “I don’t have time to explain. I need you to do something for me. It’s important.”

“Of course,” Sarah said, but not without some hesitation. “What do you need?”

“I need you to book me train tickets out of the city. For today,” Ayra said, her words tumbling out. “The earliest ones you can find are between 9am to 11am if possible. I’ll pick it up at the station.”

“Wait, what? Are you running away? Isn't there a wedding or something? Ayra, this sounds serious—”

“It is,” Ayra cut in, her voice firm. “I’ll explain everything later, I promise. Just... please, Sarah. I don’t have anyone else I can trust.”

Ayra made sure to add a little sob at the end. 

There was a slight pause. 

“Okay,” Sarah said finally. “I’ll do it. Where should I send the details?”

“Text this number,” Ayra said. “And Sarah? Don’t tell anyone about this. Not a soul. Please.”

“Cross my heart,” Sarah said. “Be safe, Ayra.”

Ayra ended the call and let out a shaky breath. One part of her plan was in motion, but it wasn’t enough.

But there was more to do. Her plan required misdirection, and for that, she needed a second person who would inevitably report back to Lisbeth and her father.

Ayra scrolled through her contacts, her thumb hesitating over a name before pressing it. The phone rang, and a voice answered almost immediately.

“Ayra! It's been a while!” Marcy chirped.

She was bitch number two. And this bitch in particular was Lisbeth's. 

“Hey, Marcy,” Ayra said, forcing a note of casualness into her voice. “Yeah, it’s been a while. I’m actually in a bit of a bind and was hoping you could help me out.”

“Oh? What kind of bind?” Marcy asked, her curiosity immediately piqued.

“I need a ride,” Ayra said. 

"A ride, sweetheart?"

"Yeah. Things are a bit dicey at the moment and I just need to get outside and clear my head. I'm sure you'd know a good place or two for that."

There was a pause, and Ayra could all but hear Marcy’s mind whirring.

“Of course, sweetie! Anything for you,” Marcy said. “Where should I pick you up?”

Ayra rattled off the address of a small café on the outskirts of town, far from where she actually planned to be by noon. It was closer to her evening destination though. 

“You are simply lucky I'm free today,” Marcy said. “I’ll be there an hour before 12 pm.”

“Thanks, Marcy,” Ayra said, injecting as much gratitude into her voice as she could muster. “You’re a lifesaver.”

After hanging up, Ayra sat in silence for a moment, the weight of what she had just done settling over her. 

She had no doubt that Marcy would report the call to Lisbeth, and Lisbeth would likely send someone to intercept her at the café. That was exactly what Ayra was counting on.

To be honest, she was just creating a maze of deception. She was layering the prospective avenues for escape as well as false leads thickly to give herself as much maneuvering room as possible. 

Knowing that her father was the one pressuring Lucian, she was certain he would try to keep Ayra's escape a secret until he caught her. 

That would lead to him deploying less personnel to search for her. He would have to narrow down his search and wouldn't have the opportunity to chase down all leads. 

Ayra chuckled. Her mother had taught her a few things about running away, and they surprisingly came in handy now. 

The two calls had set the... wheels of her plan, as it were, into motion, but they also made the stakes feel terrifyingly real.

The real challenge would be making sure her deception held up long enough for her to get away.

Ayra tucked the phone back into her pocket and stood, her reflection in the bathroom mirror catching her attention. 

She did not look bad per se, but she was definitely not looking her best. 

She straightened her shoulders and squared her jaw, determination coursing through her. 

“I can do this,” she whispered to herself.

Thank goodness Lucian was busy elsewhere or her plan would fall flat on its face.

Slipping out of the bathroom, Ayra returned to her room and carefully hid the phone beneath the mattress. She would slip it into her wedding dress later.