Page 161 of Black Castle

There’s a short silence as the mole drags in the last of his worn-out cigarette.

“She hasn’t reacted yet.” He throws the remains of the cigarette on the floor, his boot stepping over it, killing the last of the flame.

The man hums in interest. “Really?”

“Yes,” the mole clarifies, lifting the glass of vodka to his lips. “She has seen it. I know she did. I made sure I left it in a place she couldn’t miss. But she hasn’t reacted publicly. She’s always inside that room, anyway, only coming down to the garden in the evening and then dining for breakfast and dinner.” A gentle thud echoes as the mole slams the glass on the table. “It’s like she’s pretending it doesn’t exist.”

“Patience,” the man assures. “Human minds are very fickle. Keep tugging, soon she’ll make the mistake of trusting the person behind the notes, soon she’ll break, and soon, she’ll help us take down the mighty tree that has been tormenting us for years.”

The mole rubs at his temple, uncertain. “You really think that girl can do this? She’s quite weak, mouthy but I don’t think she’s capable.”

“He’s crazy about her,” the man points out. “Perhaps not love, but he’s definitely obsessed with her in a way. That his fixation on her is what we need, that little weakness reserved for only her.”

There’s a short silence.

“Soldier,” the man calls.

“Sir?”

“Lucan Raskovic doesn’t belong on that throne,” the man says, his voice leveled with hidden sentiment. “I can not ascend the throne. Unfortunately, I do not have children that can. But I will not allow that Japanese boy to keep dragging us around like we’re his cattle. If we can’t kill him, I need him stripped of his powers. I need him sent back to where Eugene Raskovic found him. He doesn’t belong to us. We never accepted him. He stole our throne.”

“He’ll go down, boss.” The mole assures with a new sense of determination. “I’ll make sure of it.”

“Good.” A hint of amusement laces the man’s tone.

The call ends with a soft click.

The mole exhales, setting down the phone. He hunches over his lap, his arms propped on it, face buried in his palms. The room suddenly feels so cold, colder than it was before.

Chapter Fifty-one

Vivienne

His obsession is a sickness. It will eat into your bones and rot you from the inside. The longer you stay locked up in this castle, the harder it becomes to remember who you once were before him. But there’s a cure. A single stroke of blade, a whisper of steel against skin, and you will be free~

Vivienne’s fingers run daintily across the words written on the paper, her mind reeling.

Her thought had been fear when she saw the first note some days ago. She couldn’t help but think this is something Zev is capable of doing. He does have a thing for twisted games. Maybe he’s testing her, to see if she will betray their sham of matrimony. But that doesn’t make any sense. He only came home at midnight the morning she received the first note. How could he have left her the note if he wasn’t even in the country?

Then her second thought was hope. Now that’s a dangerous, fragile thing. But what are the chances that someone else is aware that this isn’t a happy marriage? That she didn’t ask for this? That she’s nothing more than a prisoner in this castle? That could mean she isn’t alone, right? That someone else sees her. Cares about her freedom and might help in setting her free. But then again, hope is a double-edged blade. And timelessly, she has been cut by that blade before.

Then earlier, while she was in the bathroom, she thought she heard someone enter. She had assumed it was Zev returning home. But when she came out, she saw no one. She wanted to lay on the bed. But there was a note there waiting for her. It has the same handwriting and the same ink as the last note. But this time, the note came wrapped around a shiny golden dagger.

Now, hope was quickly obliterated, and doubt shut down her mind. The dagger isn’t a fake one that can somehow turn out to be lipstick. It’s a real dagger with sharp edges that will slice a skin without a thought. With the presence of the dagger which suggests killing Zev, the note is definitely from someone who has a hidden spite for Zev or Lucan. They’re just trying to use her in their game.

Knowing this fact, she can’t help but still feel like the person behind the note really gets her. At that part where he mentioned how soon she will no longer remember who she was before she met Lucan—Zev. She knows what Zev has desperately been trying to do to her. To awaken the darkness locked away in her mind. To fill her head with poison. Soon, she will forget happy things and kinder things and be filled with spite and evil. Soon, she will forget friendship. She will forget Kenji.

And she doesn’t want to forget Kenji.

Now she’s caught between her loyalty to her husband and her freedom. She has never been this confused in her life.

As she stares at the majestic use of the alphabet in this note, she hopes the answers somehow bounce to the surface. What is she to do in a situation such as this?

She takes in a sharp breath, her heart pounding, a gentle throb pressing against her skull. Maybe she should just throw the note in the fire just like she did the first one, pretend she never saw it. Maybe the person will leave her alone.

“I’ve been waiting for my wife to join me for dinner for over ten minutes.” Vivienne doesn’t realize when the door opens and Zev steps in.

“Why?” he demands.

---