Chapter 8
Ivy's POV
The staff began gathering their belongings, voices hushed and anxious. Without Connor, we had no direction.
By evening, most staff were still lingering in the dining hall. I made a simple dinner—mushroom and bacon pasta with black pepper, using what was left in the walk-in.
Garrett came back from town with more information. "Connor was reported by someone with detailed evidence of violations," he said. "Specific dates, specific transactions. Someone with access to private records did this."
Tessa suddenly pointed her fork at me. "You've been sneaking out for two nights straight," she said loudly. "Did you sell us out for reward money?"
The room went quiet.
"I didn't—" I started, but my voice came out barely above a whisper.
"Bullshit," Tessa said, standing. "You disappear for hours, come back looking like hell, and the next day we get shut down? That's not a coincidence."
Others murmured agreement. Someone mentioned I'd been seen near the front entrance talking to people in expensive cars.
I couldn't defend myself. I'd promised Marcus I wouldn't speak about the estate. My face felt bloodless, my hands trembling as I gripped the table edge.
But as I stood there in silence, another thought crept in: What if this was connected to Valerius? What if the shutdown, Connor's arrest—what if it was deliberate? What if they were systematically cutting off every avenue of escape?
Garrett spoke up then, his voice troubled. "Feels like we've been targeted by someone," he said slowly. "Someone powerful beyond imagination."
His words sent a chill down my spine. My fingers tightened on my jacket, nails digging into my palms until I felt skin break.
After dinner, most staff drifted away. I was heading back to the dormitory when Garrett caught up with me near the rear entrance, his expression uneasy.
"Hey," he said quietly, glancing around. The hallway was empty. "Someone at the enforcement bureau asked me to give you something."
He pulled a small object from his jacket pocket, his hand shaking. "I'm just the messenger," he said quickly. "Don't drag me into this. I can't afford to know."
He pressed it into my hand and walked away before I could respond.
I looked down and felt the world tilt.
It was identical to the card I'd burned that morning—the same black obsidian, the same gold lettering, the same cold weight. Valerius Sinclair.
My lips went white as I bit down hard. The card nearly slipped from my trembling fingers.
I understood then, with perfect clarity: I had been marked. Tracked. Claimed. It didn't matter where I ran or what I destroyed. Those deep purple eyes were always watching.
I closed my fingers around the card, feeling its icy surface bite into my skin, and stood there in the gathering darkness, drowning in shock and despair.
Valerius's POV
The penthouse suite at the Obsidian Tower had floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, though I kept the blackout curtains drawn during the day. The space was decorated in blacks and deep grays, every surface polished to a mirror shine. I'd lived here for years, preferring the controlled environment to the sprawling estate where family obligations constantly demanded attention.
Marcus stood near the door, tablet in hand. "The investigation into the accident is ongoing," he reported. "We haven't identified the party responsible yet, but the evidence suggests professional involvement. High-grade liquid silver isn't available on the black market."
I nodded absently, watching the city lights below.
My phone rang—my father's number. I answered on the third ring.
"Valerius." Aldric Sinclair's voice was cold and distant. "I heard about Lucien's hospitalization."
"Yes," I said.
"Might be a blessing in disguise," he continued. "Keeps him out of trouble for a while."
I said nothing. My father had remarried fifteen years ago and largely withdrawn from family affairs, leaving me to manage both the estate and the younger siblings. His calls were rare and transactional.
"Seraphina is returning from Los Angeles," he said. "She'll be staying with you while she's in town. I trust you'll accommodate her appropriately."
Seraphina. My betrothed, though I'd made it clear I would never agree to a Blood Bond. The arrangement was purely political. She'd accepted those terms initially, but her patience had worn thin.
"You and Seraphina have been engaged for years now, living on opposite coasts," he continued, a trace of amusement in his voice. "Perhaps it's time to actually cultivate some... rapport." He paused. "I know you haven't entirely forgotten what happened between her and Lucien back then. But they were teenagers. Foolish children. Let it go, Valerius. You're the eldest. Act like it."
His tone took on a warning edge. "The family can't afford another scandal."
I felt my jaw tighten, my eyes narrowing as I stared out at the city. I ended the call without responding and set the phone down with a soft click.
An hour later, I was in the back seat of my car, being driven toward the estate. Marcus sat across from me, still working on his tablet.
"Status on the lodge situation?" I asked.
"The shutdown is complete," Marcus said. "The owner has been detained. The staff are scattering. We expect she will make contact within forty-eight hours."
Marcus glanced up, his expression skeptical. "If I may speak frankly, sir—that girl is far too timid and fragile. She won't survive in high society. Why go through this elaborate process?"
I didn't answer immediately. I unwrapped a mint from the silver case in my pocket and placed it on my tongue. Outside the window, the black forest slid past, ancient trees pressing close to the road.
I picked up my phone and composed a voice message. "Elena, have the storage room on the fifth floor cleared out and furnished with a bed. Standard furnishings will suffice."
