The morning sunlight filtered through the heavy drapes of Ayra’s room, bathing the space in a dull, golden glow.
The first rays of dawn painted the sky in muted gold and pink, but, unsurprisingly, the beauty of the morning was lost on Ayra.
She awoke with a knot in her stomach, the weight of what lay ahead pressing heavily on her chest.
Today was her wedding day.
She had thought it would be more... Joyful. Oh, she certainly was shivering, but not from anticipation or joy - she was nervous. So very nervous.
Although she couldn’t afford to falter now, the nerves were just part of the day.
See, Ayra had spent sleepless nights piecing together a plan, but all those nights had served to tell her that there was very little she could do to manage how things panned out.
She was going to have to go with the flow and improvise on the fly - which she absolutely DREADED - and now, with her escape just hours away, there was no turning back.
And there was also Lisbeth's visit last night plaguing her.
Pushing that particular matter to the very back of her mind and dumping it in the shit hole where it belonged, Ayra slipped out of bed, slid over to the door, and opened it a sliver.
The mansion was already buzzing with activity. Maids bustled through the halls carrying flowers and decorations, their hurried footsteps and whispered conversations creating a low hum of chaos.
She wasn't quite sure - because no one had bothered to tell her the itinerary for her wedding - but it seemed like there would be a dual reception. One at the venue and the other here.
She shut the door and, careful not to draw attention, slipped the burner phone Eleanor had gotten her into the pocket of her dress and padded toward the en-suite bathroom.
Ayra perched on the edge of the clawfoot tub, the cool porcelain biting against her skin. She took a deep breath, forcing her trembling hands to steady, and turned on the phone.
For a while she just stared at it, her fingers hovering over the keypad.
Eleanor had been her lifeline, her escape route meticulously planned and guaranteed to lead her to safety. But Ayra did not trust it entirely.
Trust was a luxury she couldn’t afford—not even with Eleanor. If her father suspected her, or if Lisbeth caught wind of her plans, everything would fall apart.
And if the sudden hostility Lisbeth had shown was any proof, she and their father most likely suspected something already. And if THEY did, then Lucian most likely did too.
And, fucking hells, Lucian scared the living daylights out of her.
The device hummed to life, its screen casting a dim glow in the shadowed room. Ayra quickly navigated to the dial pad and punched in the number she had memorized.
It rang twice before a familiar voice answered.
“Who the hell is it? It’s far too early for calls,” she said groggily.
“Sarah?” Ayra whispered.
“Ayra?” Sarah’s tone was a mix of confusion and concern. She went silent after that.
'At least the bitch has the presence of mind to find things awkward after ratting me out last time,' Ayra thought.
But it was alright. Ayra had long since known that Sarah was a two-faced bitch. And even bitches could be used.
“Sarah, I need your help,” Ayra whispered, her voice urgent but careful not to rise above the sound of running water she had turned on to mask her conversation.
“Help? What kind of help?” Sarah asked curiously.
Ayra swallowed hard, her mouth dry. It was up to her acting skills now. “I don’t have time to explain. I need you to do something for me. It’s important.”
“Of course,” Sarah said, but not without some hesitation. “What do you need?”
“I need you to book me train tickets out of the city. For today,” Ayra said, her words tumbling out. “The earliest ones you can find are between 9am to 11am if possible. I’ll pick it up at the station.”
“Wait, what? Are you running away? Isn't there a wedding or something? Ayra, this sounds serious—”
“It is,” Ayra cut in, her voice firm. “I’ll explain everything later, I promise. Just... please, Sarah. I don’t have anyone else I can trust.”
Ayra made sure to add a little sob at the end.
There was a slight pause.
“Okay,” Sarah said finally. “I’ll do it. Where should I send the details?”
“Text this number,” Ayra said. “And Sarah? Don’t tell anyone about this. Not a soul. Please.”
“Cross my heart,” Sarah said. “Be safe, Ayra.”
Ayra ended the call and let out a shaky breath. One part of her plan was in motion, but it wasn’t enough.
But there was more to do. Her plan required misdirection, and for that, she needed a second person who would inevitably report back to Lisbeth and her father.
Ayra scrolled through her contacts, her thumb hesitating over a name before pressing it. The phone rang, and a voice answered almost immediately.
“Ayra! It's been a while!” Marcy chirped.
She was bitch number two. And this bitch in particular was Lisbeth's.
“Hey, Marcy,” Ayra said, forcing a note of casualness into her voice. “Yeah, it’s been a while. I’m actually in a bit of a bind and was hoping you could help me out.”
“Oh? What kind of bind?” Marcy asked, her curiosity immediately piqued.
“I need a ride,” Ayra said.
"A ride, sweetheart?"
"Yeah. Things are a bit dicey at the moment and I just need to get outside and clear my head. I'm sure you'd know a good place or two for that."
There was a pause, and Ayra could all but hear Marcy’s mind whirring.
“Of course, sweetie! Anything for you,” Marcy said. “Where should I pick you up?”
Ayra rattled off the address of a small café on the outskirts of town, far from where she actually planned to be by noon. It was closer to her evening destination though.
“You are simply lucky I'm free today,” Marcy said. “I’ll be there an hour before 12 pm.”
“Thanks, Marcy,” Ayra said, injecting as much gratitude into her voice as she could muster. “You’re a lifesaver.”
After hanging up, Ayra sat in silence for a moment, the weight of what she had just done settling over her.
She had no doubt that Marcy would report the call to Lisbeth, and Lisbeth would likely send someone to intercept her at the café. That was exactly what Ayra was counting on.
To be honest, she was just creating a maze of deception. She was layering the prospective avenues for escape as well as false leads thickly to give herself as much maneuvering room as possible.
Knowing that her father was the one pressuring Lucian, she was certain he would try to keep Ayra's escape a secret until he caught her.
That would lead to him deploying less personnel to search for her. He would have to narrow down his search and wouldn't have the opportunity to chase down all leads.
Ayra chuckled. Her mother had taught her a few things about running away, and they surprisingly came in handy now.
The two calls had set the... wheels of her plan, as it were, into motion, but they also made the stakes feel terrifyingly real.
The real challenge would be making sure her deception held up long enough for her to get away.
Ayra tucked the phone back into her pocket and stood, her reflection in the bathroom mirror catching her attention.
She did not look bad per se, but she was definitely not looking her best.
She straightened her shoulders and squared her jaw, determination coursing through her.
“I can do this,” she whispered to herself.
Thank goodness Lucian was busy elsewhere or her plan would fall flat on its face.
Slipping out of the bathroom, Ayra returned to her room and carefully hid the phone beneath the mattress. She would slip it into her wedding dress later.
The sunlight poured through the mansion's grand windows, casting a pale glow across the marble floors. The day had arrived, and the house thrummed with activity while Ayra whiled away the time in her room. Not quite the scenario she'd pictured for her wedding. The knock calling her out came sooner than she expected.“Miss Ayra, it’s time,” someone announced from the other side of the door.Ayra opened it to find a familiar face - the woman who had been working as Eleanor’s contact. The woman’s gaze flicked briefly to the hallway behind her before she stepped inside and shut the door.“Miss Ayra,” the maid whispered, her voice low but steady. “We need to act quickly. Please sit down.”Ayra obeyed, sitting on the edge of her bed as the maid knelt before her.From under her apron, she pulled out a roll of beige fabric and a small black case. She motioned for Ayra to lift the sheer silk gown she wore.Ayra hesitated but complied, her heart hammering in her chest as the maid efficiently
“It won’t take long,” she added, her voice steady despite the storm of emotions within her.“Very well,” the lead maid said after a pause. “We’ll wait just outside. Let us know when you’re ready.”The group filed out, leaving Ayra alone in the dressing room. The door clicked shut, and she let out a shaky breath.She didn’t have much time.She turned quickly to the wardrobe, her fingers trembling as she unlatched the hidden compartment. Ayra pulled out the plain blouse and trousers Eleanor had mentioned and tossed it onto the chair alongside the earpiece. The first attempt to remove the wedding dress was futile; the corset was too tight, the layers of fabric tangled and unyielding. Frustration surged through her as she yanked at the delicate stitching, tearing through the lace with sharp, deliberate movements.“Damn this dress,” she hissed under her breath, the ripping sounds oddly satisfying. She hated the dumb color scheme anyway. Icy whitish blue and gold was her preferred color
Minutes earlier...Lisbeth’s reaction was immediate as well as rather explosive. The moment she realized Ayra had slipped away, a cold, simmering rage bubbled beneath her skin. She'd known this would happen. It still didn't stop her from being annoyed when it did. The room was quiet, save for the faint murmur of guests outside the venue. Lisbeth’s sharp gaze swept over the scene, her mind racing to piece together what had happened. HOW it had happened. She came up with nothing. “You lot,” she called sharply, turning to the gaggle of servants at the door. “Tell me; who was the last person in this room before she disappeared?”The maid stammered, her face pale. “J-just the team helping her dress, ma’am. I don’t know what happened after that. She asked for some time alone, and, well, we -”“Time alone?” Lisbeth spat. “And what? None of you dimwits thought to question that? Of course she needed time alone - time to escape! What did I tell you?! Weren't my instructions clear enough?! A
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, her voice quiet.“You’ve always been too intense when it comes to Ayra,” Ferdinand said, his tone almost fatherly. “I needed to ensure this was handled with precision, not the brute force you would have preferred.”Lisbeth could not argue with that. "So, what now?" She asked. Ferdinand chuckled. "Now, we hunt down Ayra."As if on cue, Lisbeth’s phone rang in her pocket. She retrieved it with and her brows knitted together when she saw Sarah’s name flash across the screen. She answered, putting the phone on speaker.“Sarah, what do you have?” Lisbeth asked. On the other end of the line, Sarah hesitated, her voice uncertain. “Lisbeth, Ayra called me just a minute ago. She asked after the tickets I told you she'd asked me to help her book.”“What did you say?” Lisbeth interrupted. "She called you? Now?""Yeah, I just got off the phone with her. Said she would call me again and I should get the train ticket ready for her."“The train ticket. Did y
It was impractical to search the entire city for her, Ayra knew. But if she really did disappear without a trace then it would merely be a matter of minutes before she was caught and dragged back. Hence she had set up for her father two leads - Marcy and Sarah. The train tickets from Sarah would ensure he directed manpower that way given that the chances of her taking the train was practically fifty fifty. Marcy was a done deal, and perhaps he would suspect aunt Eleanor too and waste his efforts on her. That would give her the opportunity to strike out on her own and actually have a chance at fleeing. With their minds so fixated on the decoys she had set up and trying to see if they had ignored any other, she would run for the hills and have a pretty good headstart. It was rather clever, but Ayra did not quite come up with it in her own. Her mother had to take credit for the general idea. She had taught Ayra much. At the moment, Ayra sat in the dimly lit corner of a café, a cup
Ayra was well aware she only had a small window of time before Simon realized his card was missing and blocked it. Every second counted.Her first stop was a car rental office she knew since she was a kid. Obviously. The nondescript building, squeezed between a laundromat and a pawnshop, was the kind of place where people didn’t ask too many questions. Inside, the air smelled strongly of coffee and air freshener. Uncle Jim - the man who owned the place - was severely addicted to caffeine. The clerk, a young man with messy hair and a bored attitude, barely glanced up as Ayra approached the counter. “How can I help you?” he drilled, looking like he did not actually want to help her in any way. “I need to rent a car,” Ayra said, keeping her voice calm.The clerk slid a form across the counter. “Fill this out. ID and payment when you’re done.”"No ID," she said, handing over Simon’s card.He grunted and swiped the card, handed it back, and pulled out a set of keys.“Parking lot, stal
Lucian leaned back in his chair, the weight of the negotiation pressing uncomfortably against his temples. Across him, Gregory Wendell, the eldest son of the Wendell family, sat with an - in his opinion - rather dumb smile etched into his face. The meeting was a vital one - a... rare moment of diplomacy between two families whose history for the past few years had no end of spite and betrayal.“The embargos benefits no one,” Gregory said, his tone calm and clipped. Lucian thought he was trying to appear serious. He only came across as slightly comical. “Resuming trade would strengthen both our sides.”Lucian’s fingers tapped a steady rhythm on the polished mahogany table. He kept his expression flat, and his voice sharp as he replied, “Strength isn’t gained by mere convenience. The terms must benefit me enough that I would lift it. The situation of the Wendells won’t sway me.”Truthfully, Lucian was annoyed at this. He was not meant to be here. He had a wedding waiting, damnit, a
The pale light of dawn crept into the study, weak and hesitant, brushing against the mess Lisbeth and Ferdinand had made of the room. Papers and maps were everywhere, with photos and frantic scrawls barely keeping track of their failed attempt to track Ayra.Ferdinand leaned back, rubbing at his temples like that would help him think any clearer. “She’s clever,” he muttered, his voice flat and tired. They had been awake all night, their frustration mounting as lead after lead fell apart and no other turned up. “Too clever,” Lisbeth shot back, pacing like a caged animal. Her hair was a mess, her face drawn and pale. It was quite unlike her. "This is insane. How does a kid with no backup, no cash, and no clue manage to stay ahead of us? How has she managed to just disappear?"At least she's not in Eleanor's hands. That would be a whole other problem were it so. Ferdinand sighed. “She’s clever. But we’re running out of time. If we don’t find her soon, Lucian -”A sharp knock interru
It seemed that, finally, she had a moment of peace. It was ironic, actually. She had never felt safe these past few days. Not at the cabin, where the thought of her father finding her occupied her nights and a faint anxiety that her hideout had been found suffusing her days. Yet to find peace with Lucian of all people. What a joke. The moment of peace didn’t last long. A soft knock on the door startled her, but before she could respond, Lucian pushed it open. He leaned casually against the doorframe, holding a deck of cards she’d noticed earlier in the living room. He had changed as well, now wearing a plain white t-shirt that clung to his lean frame and a pair of dark gray sweatpants that looked oddly casual on him. Lucian's hair was damp, suggesting he had showered as well, and the sharp demeanor he usually exuded seemed to have softened.“Didn’t think you’d wait for permission?” Ayra said dryly, eyeing him.Lucian gave a soft smile, holding up the cards and shaking them. “T
"Believe it or not, I don’t want to see you hurt," he said quietly. His words hit Ayra harder than she expected, leaving her momentarily speechless. She wanted to argue, to push him away, to remind him that he was the reason she was running in the first place. But the words wouldn’t come. Not when his touch was so careful. His voice so steady, and his actions so at odds, with the image of him she’d built in her head. With the literal monster she had pegged him for. Confused, she remained silent for the remainder of the treatment."All done," Lucian said, sitting back on his heels as he finished wrapping her arm in a neat bandage.Ayra glanced down at his work, then back at him. "Thank you," she mumbled. Then wanted to hit herself upside the head. Why mumble the thanks?!Lucian simply nodded, standing to return the first-aid kit to its place. Ayra watched him move, her mind racing with emotions she couldn’t quite name. She hated that she felt grateful to him. She hated the way his
When they got away from the road, Lucian put Ayra on her feet. The dense foliage offered some respite from the open road, but Ayra’s lungs burned as she struggled to keep up with Lucian’s long strides. He slowed only slightly, his hand gripping her wrist to ensure she didn’t fall behind.After what felt like eternity they emerged onto a narrow dirt road. Ayra doubled over, gasping for breath, but Lucian didn’t let her rest for long.“We've arrived,” he said, pointing to a dilapidated gas station a short distance away. Its flickering neon sign cast an eerie glow over the otherwise desolate area.Ayra followed him silently, her legs trembling with exhaustion. He was all but carrying her once more, honestly. The gas station was quiet, fluorescent lights overhead casting a harsh glare over the aisles of dusty merchandise. Lucian led her toward the back, keeping a careful eye on the door.“You can sit,” he said, gesturing to a worn-out bench near the restrooms.Ayra sank onto the bench
“Who the hell are these people?!” Ayra yelled, her voice raw with unfiltered panic. Lucian didn’t answer immediately, his focus on the cars chasing them. When he finally spoke, his words were clipped. "Funnily enough, I also want to know.” Her hands curled into fists. “They were after me before you showed up! Why?” Lucian glanced at her, his eyes dark, angry. But she felt he wasn't angry at her - at least not right now. “Why don’t you tell me?” The SUV pulled onto a highway, the speedometer climbing as the driver tried to put distance between them and their pursuers. Lucian’s jaw was tight, his knuckles white as he gripped his weapon.The SUV weaved through the traffic at an alarming pace, the hum of the engine growing louder as it accelerated further. Lucian leaned forward, his jaw clenched and his eyes scanning the road ahead. Ayra sat frozen in the backseat, gripping the edge of her seat tightly, the adrenaline coursing through her leaving her both terrified and acutely
Grabbing the rungs, she hauled herself up, her palms stinging against the cold, rusty metal.The men reached the base just as she scrambled onto the roof. “Keep going!” she heard one shout, his boots thudding against the ladder as he climbed.Ayra rolled over the edge of the roof just as bullets whizzed past her face and thudded into the chimney beside her. They were shooting at her, and now fear was truly solidifying in her belly. The rooftop offered a temporary reprieve, but it wasn’t enough. Ayra scanned her surroundings, her chest heaving. Another building loomed nearby, its rooftop within jumping distance - if she was lucky.Needless to say, Ayra did not feel lucky. Without giving herself time to second-guess, she sprinted and leapt. For a heart-stopping moment, she was weightless, suspended in the air. Then her feet hit solid ground, the impact jarring her knees.The men weren’t far behind. She could hear their voices, their footsteps, the scrape of their boots on the grave
An uneasy sensation prickled at the back of her neck. An unsettling, creeping awareness that she was being watched. She glanced over her shoulder and her breath caught. A man in a dark jacket leaned casually against a lamppost, his face partially obscured by a baseball cap. He looked away when her eyes met his.Ayra’s stomach churned. She tried to tell herself it was paranoia. A side effect of the stress and the high stakes. It didn't work. As she turned another corner, she noticed someone else. Another man, this one in a hoodie, lingering by a newsstand. His gaze followed her for just a moment too long before he pretended to look at a newspaper.Her heart began to race. She quickened her pace, the heels of her boots clicking sharply against the pavement. Her legs carried her toward the parking lot almost on autopilot and as she neared her car, her instincts screamed at her to stop and look. Four men stood by the entrance to the lot, their postures too casual, their eyes too al
Ayra’s heart pounded in her chest as she walked briskly down the street, the cold wind biting at her face. The encounter with Mr. Landor had left her both frustrated and disappointed. She clutched her coat tighter around herself, her thoughts spiraling.Seeing the veritable lockdown the city was in just to find her, she felt Lucian's determination not to let her slip through his fingers.She had a sinking feeling that her original idea to first lay low and then slip away would not work. Her mother had led her here, but the man she had pinned her hopes on was unwilling to help. Her disguise itched against her scalp, yet she didn’t dare to remove it just yet. She kept her head down, blending into the crowd as best she could, each step toward her car feeling heavier than the last.Every passing figure seemed to glance her way. Every shadow stretched just a little too far for comfort; the hustle and bustle of the street should have been reassuring, but it felt suffocating instead. She
Ayra hesitated for a long moment before entering the office building. The air felt heavier, the weight of the last few days pressing down on her shoulders. Her nerves acting up while she did her damnedest to calm herself. She adjusted her blond wig, tugged her scarf tighter around her neck, and smoothed her borrowed coat. Her mother’s letter had led her here, but doubt gnawed at her. Would Mr. Landor even remember her mother? Would he even be willing to help her?“Hi,” Ayra greeted, keeping her voice carefully polite. “I need to speak with Mr. Landor. It is urgent.”The young woman behind the desk barely glanced up at her, engrossed as she was in a book as she asked; “Do you have an appointment?”“No, but it’s about a more... personal matter. Please, do tell him it’s from an old friend,” Ayra replied, leaning forward slightly.The receptionist frowned, but perhaps there was something in Ayra’s tone that convinced her to pick up the phone and phone the man's office. After a brief c
An hour later, Ayra held a license plate in her hands, turning it over as though its weight could reveal her mother’s intentions. It was wrapped in a protective plastic sleeve, its edges pristine despite its apparent age.The numbers and letters were unfamiliar, but the very sight of it had Ayra marveling at how meticulously her mother had planned for everything eventuality. Every nook and cranny of the quaint cabin had something potentially useful to her stashed away. They had been detailed in her mother's journal, and the least of which was a veritable sack of cash wrapped in plastic. Simon's card was useless now. There was also a fake ID of a blonde haired, blue eyed version of herself, a blonde wig, and blue contacts. She glanced out the window of the cabin at the car she’d rented, its current license plate reflecting the midday sun. Her lips pressed into a firm line as she considered her next move. She wasn’t naive - her mother’s precautions were useful as far as she cou