Page 38 of Knot Heirs: Serenity's Reign

Serenity's thumb hovered over the screen, her instincts screaming caution. But curiosity won out.

The message loaded:

"Miss Vale, I have information about your father's murder that will change everything you think you know. Meet me at the La Sauvage, 11 PM. Come alone. - Lucian Blackthorn"

"Fuck," Serenity breathed, her heart pounding.

She glanced at Ronan's sleeping form, then back at the phone.

Lucian Blackthorn. We’re going to meet again…

Serenity's mind raced.

This could be a trap.

But if Lucian really had answers...

She stood, decision made.

"Sorry, Ronan," she muttered. "But I've got a date with the devil."

As she slipped out of the room, Serenity's resolve hardened. She'd play Lucian's game but on her terms. She'd unravel this web of lies and betrayal, no matter the cost.

The hunt was on, and Serenity Vale was done being prey.

8

A TEASING TASTE OF VALUE

~SERENITY~

La Sauvage was adorned for Christmas, the lounge's usual dark sophistication elevated by subtle holiday touches—golden lights cascading like champagne droplets from the ceiling, crimson poinsettias positioned between bottles of rare liquors worth more than some people's monthly salaries.

Serenity Vale paused at the entrance, her golden eyes with those distinctive red flecks scanning methodically through the dimness.

"Madame?" The host shifted uncomfortably under her scrutiny. "Your reservation?"

"I'm meeting someone," Serenity replied, her voice measured, betraying nothing of the storm of calculations whirling through her mind. Her gaze cataloged each exit, each face that might be watching her. The sensation of being hunted had become her constant companion since her father's murder.

She spotted him before the host could offer further assistance. Lucian Blackthorn, ensconced in the most secluded corner booth, somehow managed to look both perfectly at home and dangerously out of place among Paris's elite. Even seated, his presence commanded attention while paradoxically deflecting it.

A tactical choice of seating—back to the wall, clear sightlines to all entrances.

She moved toward him with deliberate steps, her black suit she intentionally wore catching the candlelight at strategic moments, revealing hints of midnight purple in the fine fabric that seemed to materialize and vanish with each movement.

Lucian Blackthorn rose as she approached, unfolding his tall frame with languid grace.

The sight of him nearly stopped her in her tracks. Against the lounge's dark backdrop, his pristine white suit was an assault on the senses, the rich purple tie at his throat creating a combination that should have been gauche but instead projected calculated dominance.

Even more unsettling was how the color combination inexplicably complemented her own attire, as if he'd anticipated her choice of dress.

"Ms. Vale." His voice rolled over her skin like warm cognac, his amber eyes gleaming with something that went beyond mere interest. "A pleasure to see you again under more... amenable circumstances."

Serenity's lips curved into what might generously be called a smile.

"Mr. Blackthorn." She extended her hand, cataloging the perfect tailoring of his suit, the way the fabric shifted over his shoulders. Expensive. Italian. Custom. "I appreciate your willingness to meet."

His fingers closed around hers, warm and dry. The contact sent an unwelcome frisson up her arm that she refused to acknowledge. Alpha pheromones.Nothing more.

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