He spun her out, forcing her to release his hand before pulling her back into his hold, the chain dangling between them like bait.
“Safe with her family,” he said smoothly as they glided back into step. “For now.”
Her hands trembled. “If you hurt her—if you hurt any of them?—”
“Hurting them would hardly serve me, dove. Keeping them? Now,that’s leverage.” He leaned in, his voice low and almost tender. “A bargaining chip. Surely, you understand.”
She clung to her composure, even when fury bubbled inside her, threatening to spill over. Her body moved reflexively to the music.
“You think this will break me?” she said, her words sharp and quiet. “That I’ll fall apart because you’ve stooped to this?”
His smile didn’t falter as he turned her sharply, forcing her to focus on maintaining her footing.
“Oh no, breaking you isn’t necessary,” he murmured, his tone silken. “I’m only here to remind you that freedom comes at a price.”
She sucked in a sharp breath. Her heart pounded, anger twisting through her, cold and clean, sharpening her focus to a blade’s edge.
“What will you do?” He asked, the serene smile in place. “It’s all up to you now, dove.”
Her eyes narrowed at him. How she hated the ease with which he twisted those childhood words of encouragement into something mocking, as if she could choose to bargain with the lives of people who had come to mean so much to her.
Her eyes shifted. The chain dangled closer as they moved. Her fingers twitched within Castiel’s, a subtle adjustment as if seeking a better hold. Her touch was careful, unhurried—and then, with a deft pinch, she caught the necklace between her fingers. Castiel didn’t stop her; he let it remain in her grasp, his gaze already drawn to a flicker of movement at the ballroom’s edge.
“And your Alphas?” he continued, his words like poison in her ear. “I can feel their eyes on us. Watching. Waiting for something. A signal, maybe? A cue from you to take action?” He spun her again. “Let them seize me. Kill me, if you wish. But know this—should I fail to return, the orders have already been given.”
Her heart seized, but her steps remained steady, each movement a calculated effort to maintain her mask.
“What orders?” she asked, though she already knew the answer.
“The merchant family,” he said softly, his voice like a dagger cloaked in velvet. “Every last one of them. From the young child to the grandparent. How badly do you want freedom, dove? Do you still want it when their blood stains your hands?”
Her fingers tightened around the pendant’s chain until she felt the metal bite into her palm, keeping her expression smooth.
“What makes you think I won’t expose you right now?” she murmured. “You’re far from your lackeys. Your capture will give us time—time to find them, time to rescue?—”
Castiel’s laughter was soft but rich. His grip firm as he drew her closer into his hold, forcing her to meet his gaze.
“Do you truly believe that?” he mused, his tone almost indulgent. “That I’d set foot in this gilded den alone? That my plans hinge on my own survival?”
Her stomach twisted. The crowd blurred at the edges of her vision, faces and colours swirling in a chaotic dance of their own. She caught sight of a flash of crimson—Annaïs’s feathered costume.
Was it her? Her father? Others?
Castiel leaned in, his breath a whisper against her ear. “I hope, for their sake, no one you care for tries to be a hero tonight.”
She forced herself to steady, the gravity of the situation pressing down on her.
‘This isn’t over. Stall. Figure out where the Xians are.’
“You’re playing a dangerous game,” she said, her voice light as they glided seamlessly across the polished floor. “The Xians are a hardy bunch, not ones to bow easily. Not even to you.”
Castiel exhaled a quiet chuckle, as if she’d said something charmingly naive. “Oh no, dove,” he said breezily. “They don’t need to bow. Just stay put.”
Her gaze flicked downward as they turned yet again, catching a faint white stain clinging to his boots. Her steps faltered—just slightly—but enough for Castiel’s grip on her waist to tighten.
“Careful, dove,” he murmured, his smirk lazy, steering her seamlessly back into rhythm. “Wouldn’t want to cause a scene.”
Reiya barely heard him. She’d seen marks like that before—had watched palace servants kneel in the entry hall, scrubbing her brothers’ boots whenever they returned from sea.
