Page 80 of Dragon King’s Duty Bride

He nodded.

“The girls were rehearsing,” he said, already searching for keys. “The instructor stepped out for a minute to help the guard. When she came back…” He swallowed. “They’re gone.”

“Gone?” Sia’s voice cracked. She was on her feet in an instant. “We have to go.”

He caught her hands, steadying her before panic could take over completely. “We’re going,” he promised. “But listen to me. We don’t panic. Not yet.”

She planted her fists on his desk and held herself up while she gulped in air. All of a sudden, she straightened and he saw terror in her eyes. “Lucas…it’s him.”

“Who?” He watched as she picked up a sheet of paper and handed it to him. “Him.”

It was a photograph of Voilear.

“He’s the one that was outside the studio.”

Joy and fear collided violently inside him. All he could see was Celeste’s bright smile and the echoing space where she should be.

“You’re certain?” He had to ask even though he read the answer in her face.

She shook her head. “Who is he?”

“He’s the one who's been making our lives miserable.”

Understanding put a new wave of panic in her eyes. “He has our girl.”

He gripped her shoulders. “Whatever happens,” he said, voice steady despite the chaos in his veins, “we’ll get Celeste back. The entire class. Every single one of them.”

She stiffened. “I know you will. I have all the trust in the world, but I’m going with you.”

“I never doubted it.” He knew she’d be more stressed sitting there alone.

And as they rushed out the door, Lucas prayed he would get the chance to prove the trust she put in him.

The ride to the dance studio felt endless.

When they arrived, the street outside had already begun filling with concerned townspeople and guards.

The first thing Lucas noticed when they reached the dance school was the silence. Even from the sidewalk, he should have heard something, piano scales drifting unevenly through open windows or the sharp clap of the instructor’s hands correcting posture.

Lucas stopped Sia from rushing inside. He grabbed her shoulders and kept his voice low and controlled. “Stay behind me.”

The moment they crossed the threshold, the smell hit him, metallic and sharp, that cut through the faint scent of lemon cleaner and sweat that clung to the walls.

Copper. The scent of blood.

Fear climbed his spine slowly, vertebra by vertebra, as they moved into the main studio where the mirrors reflected only their distorted silhouettes and the empty barre stretched along the wall. One small ballet shoe lay abandoned in the center of the floor as though its owner had simply vanished mid-step.

Then he saw the instructor.

She sat crumpled near the office doorway, her silver hair streaked dark with blood, one arm bent at an angle so wrong it made his stomach lurch. He heard Sia suck in her breath as she caught sight of the gruesome scene.

A man was on his knees beside her, his hands steady and precise despite the tension that pulled tight across his shoulders. “I’m the butcher from across the way. She’s alive,” he said quietly, though there was a strain beneath the words that he could not fully conceal. “But pretty beat up. I’ve triaged her the best I can. We’re waiting for a healer. Your guard has been taken to the clinic, Your Majesty. He was in a worse way.”

The injured woman pointed at Lucas. “The guard you sent with Celeste,” she said, her voice shaking. “He came inside the studio injured. Covered in blood.”

Lucas’s heart dropped.

“He was attacked outside,” the instructor continued. “I stepped away for a moment to help him. I only meant to be gone for a second.”