43. Deargán
DEARGáN
Ravenwood’s east gate was manned by two Sons in evening wear and gold masks, one of them holding a clipboard while black cars queued along the road behind me.
“Name?” the Son with the clipboard asked me.
“Mikhailov. Aleksei Mikhailov.”
Recognition flashed across his eyes before they widened, and a whispered, “the phantom” spilled from his mouth. He took a respectful step back and waved me through to the car park.
Along with the fake ID and paperwork, Bas had spread rumors through the underworld about the deadly Mikhailov, the killer who moved like a phantom and left no trace. Looks like those rumors were working.
The campus was dark. No lights burned in the dormitory windows and no movement disturbed the paths. Ravenwood had been emptied for the weekend under the guise of a private dinner for principal benefactors.
The efficiency of it settled coldly in my chest. The years of practice behind it. The number of times Alistair had done exactly this, using education as a cover for his nefarious activities.
A line of low gold lanterns marked the route through the grounds. I followed them, the unease in my guts growing with every step.
They led me to the stone fountain at the opposite side of the courtyard that Liath’s abandoned tower bordered. I glanced up once to the dark empty tower room. Christ. She had been so close to the entrance below.
The stone statues had split apart, each figure standing on opposite sides of the opening as though they had been torn away from one another to reveal the staircase descending beneath Ravenwood. How fitting.
I descended with the other buyers, every one of us concealed behind tailored suits and expensive masks. Torchlight flickered across damp stone while voices echoed ahead, growing louder with every step.
I touched the corner of my porcelain phantom mask, making sure it was still in place.
Another gold-masked Son waited at the entrance to the underground complex. “Arms out, please.”
He held a metal scanner in one hand. Beside him sat a steel collection box already filled with pistols, knives, and every other weapon the buyers had been forced to surrender.
My stomach tightened. If I submitted to the search, they would take my knives. If I refused, I wasn’t getting inside.
I studied the guard instead. I’d seen no obvious concealed weapons on any of them so far. No bulge beneath his jacket. Nothing immediately stealable when I needed it.
That problem could wait. Getting inside came first.
Slowly, I reached beneath my jacket and withdrew my knives, dropping them into the steel box one after the other, feeling like I was stripping off armor. The sharp clang of metal striking metal settled somewhere beneath my ribs.
The scanner swept across my body with a quiet beep. “You’re clear.”
I stepped past him, reminding myself of the plan. Extract Liath. Kill Alistair if the opportunity presented itself. Don’t die.
More gold lanterns marked the route through the underground tunnels. I followed it deeper beneath Ravenwood until the passage opened into a vast stone hall carved from the earth itself.
The auction chamber.
I slowed immediately, slipping around the edge of the hall as I counted the exits. One door stood behind the stage. The second sat at the rear of the room behind me. I gauged the distance between them.
A short staircase at the front led onto the stage, and a red carpet spilled from its center, flowing down the steps and through the middle of the hall.
I stood near the stage with my back to the wall and swept the room with a single glance, cataloging the Sons with their gold masks among the crowd of masked buyers.
Several faces looked familiar from Alistair’s drinks evening despite the masks. The man with the thick gold watch who never drank too much whiskey. The older pudgy man who had laughed too loudly at everything Alistair said. Men who smiled politely while buying women.
No Liath.
No Alistair.
Not yet.
I locked on a pair of icy blue eyes from behind a gold mask from across the room.
Lorcan. Christ. The boy had actually managed to get inside.
His eyes found mine and for a moment we just glared at each other. Fuck. I had to get him out before he ruined everything. I started pushing through the crowd toward him. He stood his ground.
The house lights dimmed before I could get near him, the lights on the stage lifting. Conversation died instantly and every head turned toward the stage.
Fuck. Too late. The auction was starting.
I shot one more glare toward Lorcan, praying that he’d see sense and let me handle the auction, before I turned to the stage.
Alistair, maskless and dressed in a long black hooded léine tunic, stepped into the light with an easy smile.
My hand moved automatically toward the knife that wasn’t there anymore.
“I know many of you are eager to begin,” Alistair said smoothly, his voice echoing across the hall, “so we shall not hold things up on ceremony. First there will be a showing. You’ll have an opportunity to inspect this evening’s merchandise personally.
Afterward, we’ll serve drinks and canapes while you consider your purchases before the auction begins.
Welcome, my friends. And happy bidding.”
The word merchandise settled like acid beneath my ribs.
The room darkened until only the lights illuminating the red carpet remained.
The door behind the stage opened. Girls emerged in single file wearing lace lingerie, gold chains circling their wrists.
They descended the staircase and walked the length of the red carpet through the center of the room, splitting the crowd in half.
Splitting Lorcan and me apart before either of us could reach the other.
Fuck, there she was.
Liath.
The crimson lace clung to her body. Gold chains bound her wrists. Yet she still walked with her chin lifted, defiance written into every step she took in front of a room full of predators.
Something inside my chest twisted.
I had spent decades building this plan. Every lie, every sacrifice, and every compromise had been made to reach this room. I’d been certain standing at the center of the Sons’ empire before I tore it apart would feel like power.
Instead, it felt like helplessness. It felt like rage with nowhere to go. It felt like standing inside a cage of my own making.
I was forced to stand motionless while the woman I ached for was paraded in front of men preparing to bid for her.
Do nothing. Wait. Buy her. Extract her. Expose the Sons.
That was the plan.
I hated the fucking plan.
My eyes never left Liath.
The decision settled quietly but completely inside me.
Fuck the plan.
I wasn’t leaving this hall without her. No matter the cost.