Page 182 of The Obedient Lie
LikeIwas done.
My eyes burned. My vision blurred. I curled my fists into the marble floor and shook.
This wasn’t fear. It was rage. Hot and helpless and furious.
They wanted me to sit up in that glass box — a perfect, polished daughter of dynasty, smiling for the press and sipping from crystal like I didn’tknowwhat they were doing to me behind the scenes.
Like I didn’tknowthey were selling me.
No.
No.
If I had to sit there and watch the Cartiers win tonight —
If I had to watch them score points, shake hands, and act like they’d claimed me…
I’d scream. Or worse.
So I stood.
Slowly.
Steadily.
Heart still hammering. Hands still shaking. But my spine straightened.
And I turned.
Not up the stairs toward the family box.
Down the tunnel.
Toward the field. Because I needed to see them.
Not the Cartiers.
Mine.
I needed Luca and Bastion.
Not to be calmed. Not to be held.
I didn’t need comfort.
I needed to watch them hurt people.
The air shifted the moment I neared the tunnel.
It was electric — thick with sweat and adrenaline and steel.
I cut left — down the tunnel that led to the field.
The air shifted.
Thicker.
Charged.
