Gunfire doesn’t sound like in the movies. It’s louder. Closer. Hungrier. The marble walls magnified every burst into thunder, each echo announcing that whatever control Lady Isolde thought she had, it was crumbling fast.
Jasper grabbed me hard, spinning me behind him as glass shattered overhead. “Stay down!” he shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos like a blade. I hit the floor, heart hammering, hands scraping tile as I crawled behind the long table. Boots stormed through the corridor. Orders barked. Someone screamed.
One of them, dressed like palace security, sprinted into the room and grabbed my wrist. His grip was tight, brutal. I didn’t think. My fist collided with his jaw, Vane crest ring first. He staggered, blood blooming across his mouth as he dropped me. I scrambled back, chest burning, vision narrowed to instinct.
Jasper moved like fire. He slammed the mercenary against the wall with enough force to rattle the frame, then ducked as another shot rang out near the east window.
“We’re compromised,” he muttered, dragging me upright. “Service tunnel. Now.”
We ran. Not elegant, just fast and desperate. The hallway outside was chaos—furniture overturned, two more guards engaged in close combat with Jasper’s men. He shoved open a narrow panel near the base of the hallway, revealing a steep, dim tunnel lined in stone. I followed him into the dark.
The tunnel was cold and damp. I could still hear the distant sounds of violence echoing behind us, but it felt worlds away. My breathing was loud in the quiet, every step pounding with adrenaline and disbelief.
We didn’t stop until we hit a locked gate. Jasper broke the seal with a keycard, then turned to block the passage behind us with a heavy iron bar. His hands were shaking. So were mine.
The tunnel walls closed in tighter the farther we ran. I kept glancing back, expecting shadows to follow, but Jasper never let me slow. When we finally stopped, I pressed my back to the wall and tried to catch my breath. My hand was still smeared with blood—from the mercenary or from myself, I didn’t know.
Jasper’s hands were on his knees, breath ragged.
“You shouldn’t have been in there that long,” he muttered. “I should’ve broken in sooner.” “You got there exactly when I needed you,” I said. “If you hadn’t…”
He looked at my face, eyes narrowing. “He grabbed you?”
I nodded, showing him the red mark on my wrist. “I hit him. With the ring.”
His expression shifted—pride flickering under the tension. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”
A shaky laugh escaped my throat, uninvited. “It’s already pretty crowded.”
The tunnel groaned above us as another blast echoed faintly from the estate. I leaned against the stone. “She ordered it. Not just the summit. Everything. The lockdown, the ambush. She meant to kill me.”
“I know,” he said, voice dark. “We caught one of the fake guards before I got to you. He said the words: ‘She ordered your death.’ Just like that. No hesitation.”
Jasper stepped closer, lowering his voice. “You’re not just a symbol to her. You’re proof that her world is ending.”
“She could’ve just walked away,” I said. “She could’ve let me lead.”
“She doesn’t want a legacy,” he replied. “She wants a monument.”
We stood there in silence, the kind that says everything words can’t. Then I finally asked, “Why did you come?”
He didn’t answer right away. His eyes met mine and held.
“Because if I lost you,” he said, voice low and certain, “nothing else would matter.”