Chapter Thirty
The scent of bacon clung to the air, thick and warm. For once, it felt as though the heaviness in my chest had lifted just a little.
Talia stood at the stove, every hair in place, already looking like she'd been up for hours. She moved with a precise calm, as though she hadn't been affected by the night before in the slightest.
Lucien was next to me on the barstool, lounging like a cat with a crown.
His thigh brushed mine casually, and if I shifted even a little, I'd be tucked against his side.
His shirt was still wrinkled from the night before, collar open, sleeves rolled, silver cufflinks forgotten somewhere between whiskey and late-night stories.
His hair looked tousled by design, like he'd paid good money for the mess I'd seen form naturally.
I was the mess.
An oversized hoodie with the hem hanging around my bare thighs. My hair was wild from sleep, or the lack of it. Remnants of eyeliner smudged around my eyes and a pair of fluffy socks.
"You know," Lucien murmured, "I think this might be my favorite version of you."
"Unshowered and slightly hungover?" I muttered around my own coffee.
"No." His smile sharpened slightly. "Unraveled. You're almost human."
I didn't say anything.
I was still a little floaty from last night's wine. Lucien hadn't even felt his, he'd just watched me unravel like it was a rare performance, nudging the edges of it every time I tried to pull myself back.
Talia plated more bacon with a side glance, the weight of it pressing on me. "So he stayed the night?"
Lucien raised his mug in salute, that smug smirk on his face.
I shrugged. "He didn't bite."
"Not yet," he murmured, low enough for only me to hear.
Talia's brow arched. "Are you really doing this? After last night at the gala?"
I kept my voice light, or I tried to. I knew she was right. "It's just breakfast."
"Right," she said dryly. "And fire is just warm."
Lucien grinned. "I told her I make excellent kindling."
"Ignore him," I said.
"Impossible."
I laughed. It felt light and bubbly. I didn't realize how free it sounded until Lucien tilted his head, watching me like I'd cracked some riddle he'd been working on for centuries.
The kitchen door opened.
I didn't look.
I didn't have to.
Dax stepped into the kitchen with Lyra trailing behind him. She looked flawless with her hair perfectly curled and her makeup done, dressed in a flowy, peachy dress. Her hand was on Dax's arm, gripping too tightly, her smile stretched like a ribbon about to snap.
I didn't move.
I stayed tucked into my stool, bare legs tangled under me, enjoying the faint chill from Lucien's closeness.
Lucien leaned slightly toward me, the motion easy and slow. "If I stayed another night," he said, voice low, thoughtful, "would you let me braid your hair?"
I blinked, startled into a smile. "What?"
"You seem like someone who'd snarl if anyone tried. But I think I'd be good at it."
"I'd bite you."
He laughed. "Then I'd braid faster."
Then he reached out, gently brushing a loose piece of hair from my cheek, his fingers grazing the skin just beneath my eye as he tucked it behind my ear.
The touch was soft. Careful. Like I was something delicate, not dangerous. But I could see the way his lips curled at the edges, how his eyes flicked behind me. He knew exactly what he was doing.
Dax moved.
Not fast, not loud, but decisive. He took a sharp step forward, his hand slamming on the counter so hard it made the plates rattle.
"Touch her again," he said, voice low and shaking with the effort of restraint. "And I swear to the goddess, I will break your fucking hand."
The silence that followed was instant and heavy.
Lucien didn't flinch, just leaned back slightly. "Temper, temper."
Talia froze at the stove.
I didn't speak. Didn't move. The coffee mug was still warm in my hands but I felt the heat in the room shift to something darker.
Lyra gaped at Dax. "You're kidding."
He didn't respond.
She stepped closer, voice rising. "You're kidding. You're actually threatening him for her?"
Still, he said nothing.
Lyra let out a brittle laugh, shaking her head like she couldn't believe what she was seeing.
"I've been right here—trying, compromising, pretending to understand—and she walks in smiling once and you lose your mind? Is that it? That's all it takes?"
No response.
Her gaze snapped to me, full of rage. "You think this means something? You think him growling like a dog makes you important? He's mine. You're nothing."
I met her eyes and said nothing. Because I didn't need to.
She cracked first. Stormed out in a whirl of perfume and venom, the slam of the door punctuating her loss.
Dax lingered for one breath. Two.
Then I looked at him and nodded.
He followed her.
Lucien let out a long breath through his nose. "Dramatic."
Talia set down the tongs and leaned on the counter, arms crossed. "You're both dangerous."
I reached for another piece of bacon. "Only when provoked."
"Are you sure you're up for some more of this nerd patrol research you're insisting on?" Lucien asked with a smirk, leaning an elbow on the counter. "Or are you too drunk on riling him up?"
I sighed, soft and resigned, hating that he was right. As much as I enjoyed Lyra feeling what she insisted on making me feel, I couldn't ignore the urgency of research. Even if it was not nearly as entertaining.
Dax's small library quickly became a mess of books, manifests, and paper trails that led nowhere.
Talia had a highlighter between her teeth, another colour in her hand and another tucked behind her ear. Lucien flicking through pages, looking incredibly bored but his eyes were wickedly sharp.
Time blurred into a haze of dead ends and banter laced with frustration. It seemed that no matter where we looked, what threads we pulled on, nothing wanted to unravel.
"I think you missed a spot," Lucien said to Talia, nodding towards a section in her notebook that wasn't coloured in with her rainbow of highlighters.
"I think you missed your calling as a bad comedian," Talia retorted with narrowed eyes but I could see the smile that wanted to form underneath.
Their bickering was relaxing. It almost made it feel homey and comfortable instead of being stuck behind enemy lines where people tried to poison me and run me off.
I was starting to see words instead of meaning until one name snapped everything back into focus.
"Lucien," I asked, not lifting my eyes from the page. "Do you still have those forged manifest pages we found?"
He rustled through some papers and handed them over my shoulder. I scanned through until I found the name. Three times, each with a forged shipping stamp.
It wasn't the same as the one on the shipping logs, the person who had quoted it in the report had gotten it just slightly wrong.
Ironroot Logistics.
But the connection was undeniable.
Someone was smuggling silver laced tea into Council territories.
"Have either of you seen this name come up?" I pointed to the manifest as Talia and Lucien looked over my shoulders.
Talia furrowed her brows, head tilted slightly as she thought. Then she was leafing through her notebook with a vengeance, colour tabs flying past. "I think so. I know I wrote it down somewhere."
Lucien smirked. "Might be easier to find if you weren't writing in a colouring book."
"Lucien, I swear, I will shove this highlighter where the sun doesn't shine," Talia said with a soft growl that made Lucien cackle.
"Here." Talia stabbed the page with her finger and slid it across the desk so I could read.
There, standing out in pink in a sea of yellow, was the company name. My eyes skated across the page, picking out words until another name made me stop.
"He was there."
Talia's brows furrowed and she leaned closer. "Who?"
"Alpha Kensington," I answered, an icy chill creeping up the back of my neck. "He was there, on the trip south. He's connected to the tea."
The room fell silent, the truth settling over us like a shroud.
"He poisoned you."
It didn't need to be said but Lucien's words made it inescapable. I nodded.
"He sat next to me at the dinner. He told me not drinking would be considered rude. I didn't want to give them an excuse to blame me for a deal going sideways."
The words hurt to admit out loud, the pride shrinking inside me, bruised and battered. I had been played. I had fallen right into their trap with my fear of offending the Council again.
We didn't look any further, not yet. The revelation didn't sit right. Lucien disappeared, Talia and I retreated to our rooms. No one wanted to talk about it, the implications that our worst fears were true.
The Council had been corrupted.
A leaden weight hung heavy in my chest, pressing against my lungs and squeezing my stomach as I sat on my bed, chin resting on my knees as I let the ice creep across the bedspread and focused on the swirling patterns of frost.
The knock was soft but sure and confident.
Dax.
He opened the door, closing it behind him as he entered and leaned against it. His scent filled the room, intoxicating and maddening and comforting.
"Talia's coming back soon." I told him, pulling the ice back in as I looked up at where he perched against the door.
He looked casual with his shirt sleeves rolled up and his hair just messy enough to look like he'd run his hand through it the same way every time. He looked good. I hated it.
"Last night," he said, his words slow and cautious. "And this morning."
I should have expected the conversation but his messy love life was the least of my worries. So I just raised my eyebrows.
"If that was even a fraction of how I made you feel before with Lyra, you let me off lightly."
Slowly, I lowered my knees, my head turned to the side as I stared at him with caution. It felt like a trap somehow.
"What are you trying to say?" I asked, feeling the coolness of my mask in place, giving me protection.
"I'm saying I want this," Dax answered, still leaning against the door, still giving me space in a way I was so grateful for.
"Lyra said she'd break off the engagement but only I threw you under the bus with the Council.
I'm not letting her set the terms. I will fix this and I'll do it right.
You deserve way more than that but right now, it's all I've got. "
I hated how my mask fractured, how my heart surged through the cracks with a yearning to reach out and touch him, kiss him, soothe the pain I could see in his eyes.
The admission felt odd but right. Seeing the earnestness in his eyes, hearing the care in the words, the way he made space without asking.
"I trust you."
Dax looked like he wanted to say more, like the confession was too much that no words felt like they fit.
But I saw the time.
Talia was supposed to have been back already. She had promised ice cream.
"Did you see Talia on your way in?" I asked, setting my feet on the ground.
Dax looked confused by the sudden shift but shook his head.
Something didn't feel right. Dread rose inside of me, cresting and crashing like waves in a storm. Dax opened the door before I reached him, following me as I rushed down the hall.
I didn't bother knocking. I just burst in.
Everything was so neat.
Too neat.
No Talia, not even in the small ensuite. But there was a note.
It lay on the pillow with heavy, scratchy writing that made my heart race.
The paper scrunched in my hand and the frost leapt from my skin. My vision blurred - not with tears, but fury.
Talia was gone.
It's been a few days but here's an update!
Did you like the breakfast scene? I love Lucien and Kiera pushing Dax's buttons.
And poor Talia! Any idea on who's behind her kidnapping?
Thanks so much for sticking with this and reading. Only 10 chapters left to go...