Page 162 of Damsel in Disguise

“Then tell me.”

“Not over the phone.”

My gaze drops instinctively to my left wrist before I remember the watch isn’t there.

For the first time since the day the Dominion clasped that damned device around my arm, I left it behind.

It’s currently secured to a decoy in one of my private laboratories to generate body heat, pulse patterns, and biometric fluctuations, now coded to mimic mine.

Anyone monitoring the feed would see nothing unusual. Just the quiet physiological signatures of a man working late at night.

The deception won’t survive a thorough inspection, though. I only need it to buy me some time. Consequences will be handled later—no matter how fucked it is.

If the Dominion discovers I’ve breached twice in a row, my execution won’t be a matter of if. Only when.

Under normal circumstances, that knowledge would be enough to make me stop.

Tonight, however, every warning instinct I’ve spent years cultivating is being drowned out by something exceptional—Ariella.

His patience finally begins to fray. “Are you…”

“Yes,” he doesn’t need to finish asking the question.

I am a member of the Triarch Dominion.

“And I need you to meet me at Stratford-upon-Avon, England. I suggest you come alone. Exactly forty-eight hours after we disconnect, you’ll get the coordinates for the meet-up. But I won’t contact you again.”

The silence that follows lasts considerably longer.

When he finally speaks, the decision has already been made. He’s simply looking for reasons not to admit it.

“How do I know this isn’t a trap?”

“If I intended to harm you, Mr. Keinston, I wouldn’t have initiated contact,” I rephrase what I said earlier. “Feel free to bring any weapons if you insist.”

A humorless laugh leaves him. “Of course, duh,” he taunts.

Fucking Keinstons and their arrogance.

“There’s no catch, in case you’re curious.”

“Says who? You?” he mocks again.

I briefly close my eyes. Bear with him, Alistair.

“Yes, the only person interested in keeping your sister alive.”

“Alright then, Aleron, see you on the other side of the Ocean,” he says and ends the call.

47. ABSENT

ariella

What was I thinking when I cleaned the blood from his floors?

The question had been gnawing at my skull for the past forty-eight hours like a parasite refusing to die.

It’s been almost two days, and I still can’t forget about my reckless decision. I can still vividly see the crimson staining his marble floors as I dragged the blade over her throat.