Chapter 331: Chapter 331: Eye of the storm
The reception had become a blur of flashbulbs and perfumed voices by the time the last handshakes were done. Lucas smiled, nodded, and let names and titles roll past him without sticking, feeling Trevor’s palm at his back like the only solid thing in the room. Every time a camera clicked, he saw the platinum band flash on his hand; every time someone congratulated him, it felt like another weight pressed down.
When the final guest drifted toward the exit and the quartet’s music faded, palace staff moved in like stagehands breaking down a set. The hall emptied in soft murmurs and the faint hiss of doors closing. Lucas exhaled and rolled his shoulders once, trying to shake the tension out.
Mia was the first to reach him, tablet hugged against her chest. "We’ve scrubbed the worst of Ophelia from the live feed," she murmured. "Clipped her audio, blurred her face. It’ll look like a minor disruption by tomorrow morning."
Lucas gave a faint nod. "Good." His voice was rougher than he expected. "I’ll thank you properly later."
Trevor’s arm slid around his waist, steering him toward a side corridor lined with mirrors and soft carpet. "We’re done here," he said quietly. "Let’s get you some air."
They had just reached the first antechamber when Windstone stepped out of a shadowed doorway, his pale-green eyes cool but bright. He inclined his head to Lucas, then spoke low enough that only the three of them would hear.
"It’s finished," Windstone said. "Alexander Stone is in custody. Interpol and our own teams moved at the same time. He didn’t make it past the perimeter."
Lucas stopped walking. For a heartbeat the only sound was the distant murmur of the press being shepherded out and the faint echo of a door shutting somewhere down the corridor. "Already?" he asked, his voice a little too even. "You’re sure?"
Windstone’s pale-green eyes didn’t waver. "Yes. The name Odin dies tonight. The Emperor used Ophelia to draw him into the light and make him believe he was secure. Every den he owned or helped coordinate is already being swarmed by troops. Communications are seized, and bank accounts frozen. He won’t vanish again."
Lucas stared at him, one hand tightening on the edge of the doorframe. The cool marble under his palm grounded him while his mind raced. "So this was the plan all along," he said slowly. "Even the seat in the hall."
Windstone inclined his head once. "Her seat was bait. The moment she stepped into his orbit, she stopped being invisible."
Behind Lucas, Trevor’s hand slid to his lower back, steadying him. "You’re not the target anymore," he murmured, eyes flicking between the two men. "He is."
Lucas drew a long breath through his nose and let it out, the platinum ring on his finger catching the corridor light as his hand fell back to his side. He didn’t look triumphant. Just tired. "Good," he said quietly. "Then let’s make sure my sister doesn’t end up collateral."
"She won’t," Windstone said. "Lucius is already in the anteroom with her. You’ll have the choice of what happens next."
Lucas nodded once, the only sign of reaction. "Then we’re done here." He straightened, his voice regaining the iron edge he’d used all evening. "Get me out of this palace before someone decides to feed me another headline."
Trevor’s mouth quirked faintly as he guided him toward the waiting car. "Gladly," he said. "We’ve given them enough for one night." His palm stayed at the small of Lucas’s back as they crossed the polished corridor, the sound of their steps echoing against the marble walls. Behind them the buzz of staff and security dulled with distance until the palace felt almost empty.
Outside, the cool autumn air cut through the haze of perfume and warm lights. A line of cars idled at the curb, black paint gleaming under the portico lamps. The crowd of photographers had been pushed back behind velvet ropes; their lenses still clicked but without the frenzy of earlier, flashes popping like dying fireflies.
Trevor opened the rear door himself and waited until Lucas slid in before following. The driver closed them in, shutting out the noise of the palace. Inside the car it smelled of leather and cedar polish and was quiet enough that Lucas could finally hear his own heartbeat again.
For a moment neither of them spoke. City lights slid across Lucas’s face in pale bars as the sedan rolled down the wide drive and out through the gates.
Then Trevor leaned back, stretching his long legs out, violet eyes glinting with a trace of mischief. "You know," he said, "watching Caelan play his little game with Alexander almost makes me miss the boardroom. At least there, when someone got gutted, they weren’t still smiling for the cameras."
Lucas huffed a dry breath through his nose, looking out at the copper-tinged trees along the boulevard. "And you didn’t intervene."
"Lucas, my dear, I and Caelan took a side each. I deal with Benedict and Velloran; he deals with Odin." Trevor’s voice was mild. "I’m not going to step into Caelan’s fun. He’s been setting this trap for months. If I’d tried to help, he’d have moved me out of the way anyway."
Lucas turned his head, green eyes faintly luminous in the dash light. "You enjoyed it."
"I enjoyed you walking out of that hall untouchable." Trevor’s mouth curved in that dangerous half-smile again. "Everything else was noise."
Lucas let his head rest briefly against the seatback, the platinum band on his finger catching the glow of passing streetlights. "Noise," he repeated, voice almost a whisper. "Feels like I’ve been living inside a storm."
Trevor’s hand slid across the seat until his fingers brushed Lucas’s, a small grounding touch. "Storm’s over for tonight," he said. "Tomorrow we deal with what’s left. For now, you’re coming home."
Lucas didn’t answer, but his fingers curled once around Trevor’s, a silent acknowledgement as the car turned toward the avenue that led away from the palace lights.