Page 91 of Crown of Blood

She watches me with ancient eyes, making no move to stop me. "Where will you go?"

"Don't ask questions you don't want to answer when he comes looking."

"You know he will find you," she says simply. "No matter where you run."

"I have to try." I zip the bag closed, straightening to face her. "Thank you. For everything."

Something like sorrow crosses her weathered face. "Your mother made the same choice once. She ran from truths too terrible to face." She steps closer, pressing something into my palm—a key. "The gardener's cottage. Northeast corner of the grounds. Security is lightest there. Take all the time you need."

I close my fingers around the key, throat tight with unexpected emotion.

"Why are you helping me escape him?"

"Because sometimes," she says softly, "we need to leave to find our way back."

With a final nod, she vanishes into the corridor, leaving me alone with the weight of my decision.

The night air chills my skin as I slip through the garden, keeping to shadows, avoiding the patrol routes I've memorized.

The gardener's cottage appears ahead—a simple stone structure half-hidden by climbing roses, seemingly untended. The key turns smoothly in the lock, the door swinging open to reveal a dusty interior illuminated only by moonlight through windows thick with cobwebs.

I will stay here for tonight. Just a few moments to catch my breath, then I'll slip through the security at the shift change, just like I did a week ago.

Only this time, I'll make my way to the road, and never return.

I step inside, dropping my bag by the door, relief washing through me at having made it this far.

"Running away, little rabbit?"

My heart stutters to a halt as Luca materializes from the darkness at the back of the cottage. He lounges in an old wooden chair, legs stretched out before him, as casual as if we're meeting for tea rather than my attempted escape.

"How did you—"

"Teresa texted me the moment she left you," he says, voice soft and terrible. "Did you really think she would betray me? That anyone in this house would choose you over me?"

I back toward the door, but it swings shut behind me, the lock engaging with an ominous click.

"Let me go, Luca," I plead, surprised by the steadiness in my voice. "After what I just saw—what you did to that man—"

"Ah," he rises slowly, like a predator uncurling before the strike. "So that's it. You witnessed the monster beneath the man and found him wanting."

"That wasn't you," I whisper. "The man I've come to—"

I stop, unable to finish the sentence.

His eyes narrow, something dangerous flickering in their depths. "The man you've come to what, Bianca? Love? Is that the word you can't bring yourself to say?"

He advances, backing me against the wall. Not touching me yet, but close enough that I can smell the faint metallic scent of blood still clinging to him despite the fact he's clearly washed and changed his ruined clothes.

"You don't get to leave," he says, each word precise and venomous. "Not after everything. Not after I cut my fucking crest into your skin. Not after I made you mine in every way possible."

"I'm not yours," I counter, defiance flaring despite my fear. "I never was. You took me. You forced this life on me."

"Did I?" His laugh is low, cruel. "Let's test that theory, shall we?"

His hand catches my jaw, fingers digging into my skin as he forces my face up to his. "Tell me you don't want this. Look me in the eyes and tell me you don't crave the darkness as much as I do,Bianca."

Before I can respond, his mouth crashes onto mine, a kiss like warfare, all teeth and possession and fury. I should fight. Should push him away, slap him, scream.

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