Chapter 31
Maya
The car jolts over another pothole, sending a jab of pain through my lower back.
I shift uncomfortably, the elaborate gown Saffron insisted I wear rustling with each movement.
The fabric—some gauzy, delicate material from the Queen Mother’s extensive wardrobe—feels foreign against my skin, like I’m wearing someone else’s identity.
In many ways, I suppose I am.
“Stop fidgeting,” Ares mutters from the passenger seat, his massive frame making the vehicle feel even smaller than it is. “You’ll wrinkle the dress.”
“Heaven forbid I arrive at my own execution with wrinkles,” I reply dryly, but I force myself to sit still. The dress is the least of my concerns, but I understand its importance to our charade. The perfect Omega, returning to her rightful place. Repentant. Submissive. Everything I’m not.
Logan’s eyes flick to mine in the rearview mirror, his golden gaze unreadable in the dim light.
He’s been unnervingly quiet since we left the summer palace, his knuckles white on the steering wheel of this nondescript sedan—chosen specifically because it looks nothing like a royal vehicle.
Just another car on the road, carrying nothing more interesting than a driver, his companion, and a purple-haired woman in an evening gown.
Nothing to see here. Nothing worth stopping.
“We’re approaching the checkpoint,” Logan says, his voice tight with controlled tension. “Two miles ahead. I’ll pull over just before the bend in the road.”
I nod, my heart accelerating despite my best efforts to remain calm.
This is it. The point of no return. Once I step out of this car, once I approach those guards alone, everything changes.
The plan we’ve argued about for days, the strategy we’ve refined through endless debates and compromises, will be set irrevocably in motion.
And I’ll be on my own.
“Run through it again,” Ares says, turning in his seat to face me. His expression is grim, the playfulness that usually lurks in his green eyes completely absent. “Every step.”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. We’ve been over this a dozen times already. But I understand his concern—understand that this repetition is as much for his comfort as my preparation.
“I approach the checkpoint on foot,” I recite, keeping my voice steady. “I surrender myself to the guards, claiming I’ve escaped from Logan’s captivity and wish to return to the king’s protection. They’ll verify my identity, then escort me to the palace.”
“And if they don’t believe you?” Ares presses.
“They will,” I say with more confidence than I feel. “The king has been hunting for me since we fled. I’m too valuable to turn away.”
“And once you’re inside the palace?” Logan asks, his eyes still fixed on the road ahead, though I can hear the strain in his voice. This part of the plan troubles him the most—the part where I’m beyond his reach, beyond his protection.
“I demand an audience with the king,” I continue. “I tell him what he wants to hear—that you forced the bond, that I never wanted to reject royal favor, that I’ve come to my senses and wish to make amends.”
“And Poe?” Ares prompts.
“If I can find out where he is without revealing myself, I will,” I say firmly. “Otherwise, I have no loyalty to the prince’s enforcer. I have no connection to any rebellion. I’m just a confused Omega who made a terrible mistake and wants forgiveness.”
Logan’s jaw tightens visibly, but he says nothing. We’ve been over this particular point repeatedly. I can’t risk any attempt to help Poe, not immediately. My own position will be precarious enough without drawing attention to connections with known rebels.
“And the poison?” Ares asks, his voice dropping even though we’re alone in the car.
I touch the delicate silver pendant hanging at my throat—an heirloom piece from the Queen Mother’s collection that looks innocuous but contains enough concentrated nightshade to kill a dozen men.
“I watch and wait for an opportunity,” I say quietly. “Only if I’m certain of success.”
And how long will it take I have to spend in the king’s bed before he trusts me enough to accept food or drink from my hand?
Logan’s eyes meet mine in the mirror again, and this time I can read the emotion in them clearly: fear. Not for himself, but for me. For what might happen if I’m discovered, if the plan fails.
“You don’t have to do this,” he says, the words bursting from him as if he can no longer contain them. “We can turn around right now. Find another way.”
“Logan,” I say, my voice gentler than I intended. “We’ve been through this. We agreed. There is no other way. Not in time to save Poe and Dani.”
Cillian had argued about staying behind, but he’d been in no shape to fight. We needed to ensure at least one of us to remain behind and lead the Queen Mother’s forces now that her highest-ranking guard has been captured.
“We could still try a direct assault,” he argues, though without much conviction. We both know the odds of success for such an approach are vanishingly small.
“And get everyone killed?” I shake my head. “This plan gives us the best chance. Me on the inside, you coordinating from outside. The rebellion ready to move once I’ve completed my mission.”
“If you complete it,” Ares mutters, but there’s no real challenge in his tone. He’s accepted the necessity of this approach, even if he doesn’t like it.
The car slows as we approach a bend in the road, the headlights sweeping across dense forest on either side. Logan pulls onto a narrow shoulder, killing the engine but leaving the lights on. For a moment, we sit in silence, the weight of what comes next pressing down on us.
“The checkpoint is just around the bend,” Logan says finally, his voice carefully controlled. “A quarter mile, no more. There will be at least four guards, possibly more if they’ve increased security since Poe’s capture.”
I nod, my mouth suddenly dry. This is really happening. After days of planning, arguing, preparing, the moment has arrived. I’m about to walk into the lion’s den, armed with nothing but my wits and a pendant full of poison.
“Time to get this over with,” I say, reaching for the door handle.
Ares’s massive hand covers mine, stopping me. “Wait,” he says, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. “Let me check the road first. Make sure there are no patrols between here and the checkpoint.”
I nod, grateful for the momentary reprieve. Ares slips out of the car, his movements surprisingly silent for someone his size, and disappears into the darkness beyond the headlights.
Alone with Logan for the first time since we decided to do this, I find myself suddenly unsure what to say.
“Maya,” he says, breaking the silence. He turns in his seat to face me directly, his golden eyes intense in the dim light. “If anything goes wrong—if you feel threatened, if you sense a trap—abort the mission. Your safety matters more than anything else.”
“Even more than Poe’s life?” I challenge gently. “Than Dani’s? Than stopping the fertility clinic? Than stopping whatever else your father has planned?”
Logan’s expression tightens. “Yes,” he admits, the honesty clearly costing him. “To me, at least. I know that’s selfish. I know it goes against everything we’re fighting for. But I can’t—“ He breaks off, struggling visibly with the words. “I can’t lose you again.”
The raw vulnerability in his voice catches me off guard. This isn’t the commanding Alpha speaking, not the calculating prince or the reluctant rebel leader. This is just Logan, the man beneath all those roles, expressing a fear that feels startlingly human.
“You’re not going to lose me,” I say, surprised by my own certainty. “I’m coming back, Logan. With information, hopefully with Poe and Dani, and eventually with the king’s head on a platter.”
A ghost of a smile touches his lips. “Bloodthirsty little thing, aren’t you?”
“When I need to be,” I agree, returning his smile with a small one of my own. “The king has taken enough from all of us. It’s time he paid the price.”
Logan’s expression sobers. “Just promise me you’ll be careful. That you’ll put your safety first if things go wrong.”
“I promise to be careful,” I say, choosing my words deliberately. “But I can’t promise to abandon the mission at the first sign of trouble. We both know what’s at stake.”
He holds my gaze for a long moment, then nods once, accepting this compromise. “Fair enough.”
The car door opens, and Ares slides back into the passenger seat, bringing with him the scent of pine and night air. “Road’s clear,” he reports. “Checkpoint is fully staffed—four guards visible, probably more inside the station. Standard procedure for this time of night.”
I take a deep breath, steadying myself. “Then it’s time.”
I push open the door before I can lose my nerve.
The night air is cool against my skin as I step out of the car, the elaborate gown swishing around my ankles.
I straighten my spine, lifting my chin in the posture of Omega dignity that was drilled into me at the Enclave.
The perfect picture of royal breeding—exactly what will remind the king of how valuable I can be.
And let him think that Logan has been keeping me locked away in the summer palace like a treasured pet. Certainly not someone capable of planning and executing an assassination attempt by herself.
The road curves ahead, taking me out of sight of the car. I resist the urge to look back, to reassure myself that Logan and Ares are still there, still watching over me. From this point forward, I’m on my own.
The checkpoint appears around the bend—a small, fortified building straddling the road, barriers lowered to stop all traffic. Floodlights illuminate the area, harsh and unforgiving against the surrounding darkness. Guards in royal livery stand at attention, weapons visible at their sides.