Veil of Deception

AUTHOR’S NOTE :

Every story has a beginning. This is Lyra’s. Not the neat, controlled version—the real one. The one with reckless choices, stolen moments, and a man who was never supposed to be there.

She thought she was running toward freedom. Instead, she ran straight into him.

And nothing was ever the same again.

FOUR YEARS AGO

Lyra's POV

The soft grass cushioned my fall, but the impact stole the breath from my lungs. For a moment, I just lay there, dazed, my heartbeat thundering in my ears. And then, I opened my eyes.

And met his.

Deep, stormy blue, full of danger and mystery. Eyes that seemed to look right through me, seeing every thought, every hidden emotion. They were like a tempest—ruthless and wild, yet impossibly calm.

How did I end up in his arms?

It had started earlier that evening.

I paced my room, restless, feeling caged in by the walls that seemed to close in on me. I needed to breathe. I needed to escape. The thought of another night of suffocating control made my skin itch.

But Alex had made it clear—I wasn’t supposed to go. Not there. Not where the night was loud and reckless, where the air buzzed with something untamed, something that made my heart race in a way nothing else did.

He thought he was keeping me safe. He didn’t understand. Safety had never made me feel alive. It didn’t make my skin hum or my pulse thunder in my ears. It didn’t give me that sharp edge of uncertainty, the thrill of taking what wasn’t meant for me.

And if I didn’t have that—what did I have?

My fingers curled around the silver pendant at my throat, the metal cold, grounding. I wasn’t running away. I was running toward something. Toward the thrill, the unknown. The only thing that made my world feel real.

The night air was crisp when I stepped onto the balcony, wrapping around me in a whisper of cool relief. Goosebumps prickled along my arms, but I barely noticed. My hands found the railing, gripping it as I glanced down. The guards stood at their posts, the gates locked, and I had no intention of getting caught. I needed to be free. Tonight.

And no one was going to stop me.

Just then, a knock on the door snapped me out of my thoughts.

“Miss?” a soft voice called from the hallway. I turned to find one of the house helpers standing there, a tray in her hands. She smiled politely, but I could see the curiosity in her eyes. “Is there anything you need?”

I forced a smile, trying to mask my restlessness. “No, I’m fine. Just… could I get a glass of water?”

“Of course. I’ll bring it right up—”

“No,” I interrupted, my voice sharper than I intended. I quickly softened it. “I’ll get it myself. No need to trouble you.”

She hesitated, eyes lingering a moment too long, then nodded. "As you wish."

As soon as she left, I slipped from the room and moved quickly down the hall, then the stairs, heart pounding. No time to waste. No time to think. I needed to get out—needed to breathe, to move, to feel something other than the walls closing in.

I grabbed a jacket on my way out—black leather, well-worn, familiar. It slipped over my shoulders like second skin, the faint scent of it grounding me for just a second. My clothes were simple, practical. A snug top that let me move without restriction, paired with fitted, low-rise pants that clung comfortably, their fabric both durable and flexible. And my boots—sturdy, broken in, made for long nights and fast escapes.