The Lycan's Stolen Bride

Chapter 9

Chapter 9

He stood near the far wall, half in shadow, a head taller than most of the men around him, shoulders broad enough to fill out the dark, foreign cut of his coat. His skin was too pale for someone who looked otherwise strong, a faint sheen of sweat catching the light despite the cool evening air. His jaw was tight, clenched like he was holding something back through sheer will, and his eyes, when they briefly lifted, looked exhausted in a way that had nothing to do with the party around him.

She did not know who he was. She had heard whispers, a dignitary, someone important tied to the talks with Liam's family, but nothing more than that. He looked out of place among the laughing guests, like a man enduring something rather than enjoying it.

For one second, his eyes met hers across the terrace.

Callie's whole body went still. There was nothing threatening in his gaze, no scorn like she was used to from the rest of this house, just a quiet, searching look, like he was trying to place something about her he could not quite name.

She looked away first, ducking her head and moving quickly back toward the house, tray balanced carefully, heart beating a little too fast. She did not know why his stare had unsettled her so much. Maybe it was simply that no one in this house looked at her like she was a person worth noticing anymore, and his gaze, brief as it was, had felt different somehow.

She did not look back to see if he was still watching.

Inside the sitting room, she moved through Rowena's circle of friends next, offering the tray politely, keeping her steps light and quiet. That was when she heard it, soft laughter pitched just loud enough to carry.

"Isn't that Rowena's sister?" one girl murmured to another, not bothering to lower her voice much. "The one who went to that camp?"

"I heard she killed someone," another whispered back, feigning shock poorly. "Can you imagine? And now she's serving drinks like a common maid."

"Well, what else is she good for now?" the first girl said, and they both laughed quietly behind their glasses, glancing at Callie like she was a piece of gossip come to life rather than a person standing right in front of them.

Callie's jaw tightened, but she said nothing. She kept the tray steady, offered it politely to the next guest, and moved on without a flicker of reaction crossing her face. Two years ago the old Callie might have snapped back, might have thrown the tray down and demanded respect. But that girl was gone now, and the girl who remained knew better.

She glanced around the room for Peter, some old habit still hoping he might step in, might tell his sister's friends to be quiet out of some shred of decency. But he was nowhere in the sitting room, probably off charming some guest in another corner of the house, conveniently absent the way he always seemed to be whenever cruelty was aimed at her. She almost laughed at herself for even looking. Peter's protection only ever showed up when it benefited him, never when it might cost him something with people whose opinions he cared about.

And even if he had been there, she knew exactly how it would go. If she said one word back, if she so much as let her irritation show, it would not matter what started it. Peter would only see her causing a scene, embarrassing the family in front of guests, and he would be the one lecturing her by the end of the night, not the girls who had laughed at her.

So she said nothing. She kept moving, kept serving, kept her head down through every whispered comment and every sideways glance thrown her way through the rest of the evening.

It did not matter anymore, she reminded herself quietly as she refilled another tray in the kitchen, hands steady despite the tightness in her chest. None of this mattered. Not the whispers, not the uniform, not the tray in her hands. She only needed a little more time. A few days, maybe a week if she was careful. Long enough to gather what few things she owned, long enough to check on the money sitting frozen in her account since her arrest, money she doubted the family even remembered existed. Long enough to slip quietly out of this house and disappear somewhere none of them would think to look.

She did not need Peter's protection. She did not need her parents' approval, or Rowena's friends to stop their whispering, or anyone in this house to see her as anything other than what they already believed her to be.

She just needed time.

Callie balanced the tray against her hip, smoothed down the front of her ill fitting uniform, and walked back out into the party with her head low and her plans held quiet and close, tucked away where no one in that house could reach them.