<h4>Chapter 453: Chapter 453 PERFECT TRAP</h4>


    SERAPHINA’S POV


    The ss in my hand had long since gone warm, condensation slick against my skin.


    I anchored myself in that sensation, fixed on that singr point, because everything else in this moment demanded precision. Control.


    And control was Herculean when anger simmered beneath the surface.


    Lunar Noire was quiet tonight.


    Not the natural lull of a slow evening, but the deliberate, curated stillness of a ce stripped down to only what we needed.


    We had rented it out hours ago, cleared the staff, secured every entrance,yered ward upon ward until the air itself felt thick with intent.


    A perfect trap.


    Low amber lights cast a soft glow on polished wood and dark leather, shadows pooling in corners. Music yed faintly in the background, slow and unobtrusive, just enough to make the space feel normal.


    If you didn’t look too closely.


    If you didn’t pay too much attention to the “patrons”.


    Kieran sat at the far end of the bar, posture rxed, one arm drapedzily over the back of his chair, a ss of whiskey untouched in front of him.


    To anyone else, he looked like a man killing time.


    Ethan upied a booth to my right, half-shadowed, his broad frame angled in a way that suggested disinterest while his gaze tracked every movement in the room.


    Maya sat across from him, her fingers loosely wrapped around a drink she ignored, her expression calm, unreadable.


    Corin leaned against a column near the entrance, scrolling idly through his phone, his posture loose enough to sell the illusion of distraction.


    Brett stood closest to the exit, one shoulder resting against the wall, his presence quiet but immovable, like a line drawn in the sand that no one could cross without consequence.


    The illusion I’d created wrapped around them as seamlessly as it did around me, bending perception just enough that Thomas would see what he expected to see.


    I shifted on the barstool, adjusting my posture, letting my shoulders settle into a familiar alignment that wasn’t mine.


    The illusion settled over me like a second skin—responsive, precise, crafted from memory and observation and just enough borrowed detail to make it undeniable.


    I nced at my reflection in the ss case of the bar, and my lips pulled into a grim smile when Celeste’s face looked back.


    Right on time, the door opened, and Thomas Bane stepped inside.


    He paused just inside the entrance, his gaze sweeping the room in a quick, assessing nce that spoke of habit more than suspicion.


    His posture was rxed, his expression neutral, his presence unassuming as always.


    Gentle. Harmless.


    My stomach churned as his gazended on me. If I didn’t know better, I’d miss the malice in those warm brown eyes.


    He walked over, and my grip on the ss tightened.


    “Celeste,” he greeted, his voice carrying that same easy politeness I had heard earlier that morning. “I have to admit, I didn’t expect to hear from you.”


    I didn’t look at him immediately.


    I let the silence stretch just a fraction longer thanfortable before I turned slightly on my stool, lifting my gaze to meet his.


    He slid onto the stool beside me without invitation, signaling for a drink with a small motion of his hand.


    “So,” he continued, ncing at me sidelong. “Your message was...intriguing. ‘Old matters’? That’s a vague way to summon someone.”


    “I didn’t think you’de if I were specific,” I replied, my voice a mix of cool detachment and underlying edge that I had heard from my sister more times than I could count.


    “Depends on the specifics.”


    The bartender—Gavin, actually—set a ss in front of him. Thomas thanked him absently, his attention never quite leaving me as he took a slow sip.


    “So why am I here, Celeste?” he asked, setting his ss down. “If this is about revisiting old insults, I think we’ve both had our fill.”


    I tilted my head, letting my eyes meet his fully now.


    “It’s not about insults,” I said.


    “No?”


    “No. It’s about that day at the Vesper Grand.”


    There it was.


    Subtle, almost imperceptible, the way his body stilled for just a fraction of a second.


    I held his gaze.


    “What are you talking about?” he asked, his voice remarkably steady for someone who had been caught.


    “I’m talking about how you followed me,” I said quietly, my voice just shy of trembling. “I’m talking about how you watched me, waited till I was vulnerable.”


    My grip tightened on the ss, and it took all my willpower not to shatter it against his skull.


    “I’m talking about how you drugged me and threw me into the lion’s den.”


    Thomas was silent for a long while, his eyes still locked on mine.


    I waited.


    Waited for the fa?ade to crack. For him to confess what he’d done to my sister so I would be justified when I put my ws through his heart.


    He...chuckled.


    I blinked, jerking back a little as he broke eye contact and took another sip of his drink, entirely at ease.


    “Wow, Celeste.” He shook his head. “I knew you had a ir for theatrics, but this...this is on another level.”


    The wordsnded exactly the way they were meant to.


    Dismissing. Belittling.


    Deflecting.


    My jaw tightened.


    “Doesn’t it get exhausting pretending you’re not as vile as you are?”


    “You’re one to talk about vileness,” he retorted. “You spew poison everywhere you go.”


    “Is that why you did it?”


    He rolled his eyes. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”


    Then he leaned closer, close enough that I could see the darkness swirling in his eyes.


    I felt Kieran tense. Knowing Thomas was one wrong move from having his head ripped off his body was what kept me from leaning away.


    “But if someone did kidnap you,” Thomas said, his voice dropping low and cold as his diplomatic fa?ade evaporated, “then you deserved it.”


    His lips curved into a wicked smile. “I hope you suffered.”


    A memory shed in my mind—an image of Celeste in the truck, wrists and ankles bound as men regarded her like merchandise.


    “I hope you were terrified.”


    Gunshots rang in my head along with the fear Celeste felt as she ran through the corridors.


    “I hope it scarred you in the worst way.”


    I felt the agony, the hollowness of Kharis being ripped out of Celeste’s soul.


    “You abhorrent bastard,” I seethed.


    Thomas threw his head back, and a dark, chilling cackle burst out.


    “I’m abhorrent?” He scoffed. “After everything you did to Brett, you dare say that to someone else?”


    “Is that why you did it?” I snarled. “Is that why you hurt her?”


    He froze.


    I realized my mistake a half-second toote, but I didn’t care.


    I could barely hold the illusion—I was too furious, too consumed by all the ways I wanted to make Thomas Bane suffer.


    “Her?” Thomas said quietly.


    I didn’t move, didn’t breathe for a long, tense moment.


    Thomas’ eyes darted around the room.


    The illusion was fracturing, and I saw the moment the faces in the room looked vaguely familiar to him. The moment he sensed something was wrong.


    “Well,” he murmured, setting his ss down with deliberate care. “This has been fun, but I can only spend so much time in your presence before I get tainted by your poison.”


    He stood, smooth and unhurried, tension coiling beneath the surface as he turned toward the exit.


    Toward escape.


    “Leaving so soon?” a familiar voice drawled.


    For the first time since Thomas had walked into the bar, he hesitated, his breath hitching as Brett stepped into his path.


    I let the illusion droppletely, and Lunar Noire stood exposed for what it truly was now—a trap with every exit watched and every shadow upied.


    Thomas’ gaze flicked from Kieran at the far end of the bar to Ethan rising from the booth, then to Maya, Corin, and Gavin, who no longer pretended to be anything other than what they were.


    The amber lights caught against the polished bar, against the untouched sses, against Thomas’ pale face as understanding dawned on him.


    He was trapped.