CHAPTER 72: GETTING CAUGHT

Lorraine was caught in a dilemma. What was she supposed to do?

Her heart screamed for stillness. Her mind screamed for escape.

So she did what she did best.

She ran.

Not with panic. No. That wasn’t the Lazira way. She turned her head, feigning disinterest, pretending not to recognize the most recognizable man in all of Vaeloria, and slipped into the winding alleyways like smoke.

This was her turf.

She knew which paths twisted into dead ends and which led to freedom. She didn’t look back. Not even when her thoughts spiraled.

Why was he here? Leroy had never shown interest in the red-light district. Never wandered into Lazira’s domain. Never sought company in this world of shadowed pleasure.

Was he here because he missed the Swan Divina? Had he come looking for her, and when he didn’t find her, decided to chase someone else?

Her stomach turned. She wasn’t even sure why she was running. Would he even recognize her? Would he want to?

She glanced behind her and realized Sylvia was no longer in tow. She had moved too fast. Even Sylvia couldn’t keep up. Lorraine slowed, thinking she’d lost him.

But as she stepped out of the alley’s mouth, a firm hand yanked her into the shadows. A gloved palm covered her masked mouth.

Her body reacted instantly. Her hand reached halfway to the poison laced at her waist, when...

"Meet me in the tower."

She froze hearing that familiar voice. His voice.

She looked up, heart hammering, to see Leroy leaning over her. His green eyes glinted behind the golden mask, sharp and unreadable.

"I’ll be waiting," he said. Then he was gone. Vanished into the dark like a ghost.

Lorraine stood there, dazed. Her fingers brushed her chest, trying to calm the wild rhythm beneath her ribs.

The tower? The stone tower of the Divina?

Why would he ask Lazira to go there?

Did he... did he know?

Had he figured out that she was both?

A thousand questions clawed at her mind. She could run again. She could vanish and pretend this never happened. But something in her gut told her the truth, that this wasn’t something she could outrun anymore.

She had to face him.

And if she had to, she would do it here, on her turf. Not in that quiet mansion where Lorraine was voiceless and small.

So, under the veil of night, when Lazira ruled and the Swan Divina rested, Lorraine stepped into the tower.

Breaking her own rule.

---

The pale interior of the chamber glowed softly, washed in the hush of silver light filtering through the high, narrow window. The air was thick with the mingled scent of lilies and something darker and sweeter. Sweetness of vyrnshade emitted from her, spreading its intoxicating scent.

Her black velvet cloak trailed behind her as she entered, fixing her mask, melting into the shadows as she entered, thinking she’d have the upper hand in this situation.

But he was already there. Before she could even draw a breath, an arm snaked around her waist, pulling her flush against a solid chest.

"Two days," he murmured, his lips brushing her ear. His voice, low and amused, dripped with accusation. "You’ve been playing a very busy little bee... Ignoring me. Avoiding me."

He kissed the curve of her cheek, slow and deliberate.

Her spine arched. Heat raced through her veins, but she twisted out of his grasp, feigning composure she didn’t feel. "You’re here for the Divina?" she asked, voice tight. "She only comes when—"

"Spare me the act," he said, casting his coat aside with a flick of his hand. His silhouette cut clean through the white space of the room like a shadow given form. The faint glow of light kissed his features—enough for her to recognize him, though only because she already knew his face. Knew it too well.

But she? She was still hidden. Veiled. Masked.

And yet she felt exposed, as if she was standing bare naked in rfont of him. Every inch of her skin prickled, like he could see beneath the velvet and silk and lies. She swallowed hard.

"Lazira. Swan Divina." His voice was sharper now, edged with heat. "You are smart enough. No one’s put it together till now. But I see it...the patterns you left behind..."

He turned, fixing her in place with his gaze. "I see you."

"You’re mistaken," Lorraine said quickly, stepping back.

The vyrnshade blossom slipped and fell on the mirror-like floor. As she retreated and as he pushed forward, that flower got crushed under his boot. Its cloying perfume filled the room, thick and intoxicating.

He took another step forward.

She flinched.

In a flash, his hand shot up and ripped off her mask. The motion was swift. Unceremonious and devastating.

Her hood slipped back, revealing her face in the pale glow of the room. Lorraine bowed her head instinctively. She knew he wouldn’t be able to see well in this darkness, but still...

He didn’t gasp. Didn’t stumble. Of course, he didn’t. He didn’t know who she truly was. Only what she had hidden. And now... what he had claimed.

Lorraine’s heart pounded. Her breath stilled in her lungs. The silence between them trembled as her back hit the wall.

Then... he touched her... his hand wrapping around her throat, firm but not cruel. Not choking. Just owning.

She froze.

"You need to clip your fingernails, mouseling," he said with maddening calm. "My back still bears your mark."

His lips hovered over hers.

"And you..."

His mouth crashed into hers before she could answer, before she could even form the denial clawing its way up her throat.

She tried to push him away. Her hands fisted against his chest. But she didn’t pull hard enough. Didn’t truly want distance. The ache beneath her skin had missed him.

She melted into the kiss, surrendering even as she hated herself for it.

He pressed her against the wall, the cold stone biting into her back as he peeled away her coat and gown like layers he had every right to remove. His knee slipped between her legs. Her skin remembered him too well as his tongue slipped into her mouth. She recalled the heat of his hands, the weight of his gaze, and the way he claimed her like he was starving.

His kiss deepened. Her defiance wavered.

And when he pulled back, he didn’t lean far back for his breath hot against her neck, his lips brushing her pulse.

"Here’s my proof," he whispered, staring at the fading marks on her chest that looked dull in the dim light, the ones only he could’ve left.

She gasped and covered herself quickly, shame and heat battling in her veins. She was caught. Red-handed. Or in her case, with red marks on her skin. She didn’t think he’d be this shameless. She turned to flee.

He blocked her path with his body, arms braced on either side.

"You can try to run," he said softly, "but you can’t hide from the way you tremble when I touch you."

Her jaw clenched. He was not allowing her to leave.

What now?