The Rejected True Heiress (Liora) novel Chapter 83

Liora

The ballroom was still vibrating with panic when the heavy doors closed behind him.

My father. And a entourage of other high ranking wolves with him.

Even with the stage collapsed, students screaming, and the sharp bite of smoke in the air, I could still feel the weight of his presence in the massive room, the way every head had turned the second his boots hit the marble.

A dark cloak swept over broad shoulders, half hiding the tailored lines of a black suit beneath. Brown hair, threaded with a single streak of silver at the temple, caught the ballroom lights when he turned his head. Up close there were scars that I knew well, thin, pale marks along his jaw and one across his brow, but none of them dulled the authority in his stance.

His eyes swept over the chaos, taking in every detail, but his face stayed unreadable. I knew exactly what he was searching for. Me.

But just as quickly, he was gone, escorted back out by a wall of guards who deemed the scene too dangerous for a king.

I stayed where I was, back pressed to the cool stone pillar, peaking through the slit in the stage curtains, listening to the echoes of chaos around me. My dress was torn along one side, my arms scraped, but that wasn’t what had my heart pounding. It was the faint brush at the edge of my mind, an attempt at a mind-link, careful but firm.

Liora.

My father, calling to me. I shut him out instantly, locking the door in my head as tightly as I could.

Somewhere behind me I heard Callum’s voice, strained, calling for me. I blocked that too, my mind racing.

My father came here tonight expecting me to honor my end of the deal. But I hadn’t come to this place to be his daughter, I came to exist outside of that, outside of who I was. And now he thinks he can walk in and I’ll stand by his side while he speaks for me? Did he really think I would forget why I left in the first place?

My job isn’t done here, but my time at this party is.

Callum

People were shouting over one another, their voices breaking through the heavy bass that still thudded from the broken speakers like a heartbeat that wouldn’t stop. The stage was half-collapsed, splintered wood and twisted metal scattered across the floor. Students darted back and forth, some trying to decide what to do, others smothering the small fires licking up the curtains from the fallen lights. Somewhere behind me glass shattered with a sharp crack, and a wave of startled gasps rippled through the chaos.

But none of it mattered.

All I could see was her.

Liora.

She was already halfway across the floor, slipping through the mess behind the stage like she wasn’t even part of this world. She wasn’t running, not exactly. It was more like watching water flow around rocks, calm and deliberate, even as everything else drowned. She stopped briefly by a cracked marble column, one hand pressed against it as though just steadying herself, and then pushed off again, heading straight for the exit.

I didn’t think. I just shoved forward.

“Liora!” My voice barely cut through the noise, raw from smoke and frustration.

She didn’t look back. She just kept moving.

I broke free and lunged, catching her arm just as her fingers brushed the door. “Wait—just wait a second!”

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