Chapter 10

**Flashback — Eve’s Night**

Lawrence stormed into the room where the Seedsmen gathered, his face contorted with fury.
The air was thick with tension as he burst through the door.

“What the hell?” Lawrence’s voice roared, a mixture of anger and disbelief. “You want to
explain to me how a damn boy managed to kill a Seedsman and four guards, and then slip
away without a trace?” His tone was edged with venom, his eyes blazing with frustration.

Margot sat in a bathtub, his back turned to the room as he gazed out the window. His voice
was calm but unfeeling, a stark contrast to Lawrence’s rage. “He was a clever boy. He used
a knife, you know. A stone to kill Loth,” he said matter-of-factly, his gaze still fixed on the
horizon.

“And the Downs?” Lawrence’s voice rose, his frustration mounting. “What will people say
when they see another black boy roaming around? The gossip will spread.”

“We will find him,” Goth’s voice was laced with bitterness, his tone reflecting his discontent.

“Find him?” Lawrence’s voice cracked with exasperation. “What is his name to start with?”

“When did we start nameing slaves,just chill. Your tone is absurd,” Ikena interjected, his
voice laced with irritation.

“Chill? You think this is a joke?” Lawrence snapped back, his anger barely contained. But
before he could continue, a slow, mocking clap echoed through the room. Everyone turned
sharply to see Lady Thornton standing by the door, her presence commanding immediate
attention.

“This is what you call a council?” Her voice dripped with disdain, and a cold silence fell over
the room.

“I heard what happened,” she continued, her tone thick with contempt. “I knew it wasn’t just
rumors.”

“Mother, we’re fixing this. Everything is under control,” Lawrence spat out, his face a mask of
defiance.

“Control?” Lady Thornton echoed, her voice cutting through the room. “Just one night I let
you all have some leeway, and you let this mess get into your head. This is why I am not
kind to failures.”

The air grew heavier with each word she spoke. Lawrence’s face flushed with a mixture of
anger and humiliation. He had always craved her approval, a desperate need to prove
himself worthy in her eyes. But every failure felt like a dagger to his heart, deepening his
sense of inadequacy.
“Mother…” Lawrence began, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions.

“You are a disgrace,” she interrupted, her voice icy and unforgiving. “Weak and incapable.
Where have you been while this chaos unfolded? Choosing these useless black skins to
guard?”

Lawrence stood rigid, his mind spinning as her words cut through him. All he had ever
wanted was her approval, to be seen as more than just a shadow in the darkness. Her
disapproval was a constant torment, a reminder of his failures. His heart ached with the
weight of his unfulfilled desire for her love.

“They will find him,” Lawrence said through gritted teeth, trying to muster some semblance of
confidence.

“They?” Lady Thornton scoffed. “Real men go to war themselves.” She began to walk away,
her voice dripping with authority. “If you want something done, you do it yourself.”

Lawrence’s fists clenched at his sides, his knuckles white with the effort.

“Go and find him. Bring back his head. Show no mercy,” she commanded, her voice echoing
as she turned to leave. “You are a Thornton—flesh, blood, and soul.”

“I will find him, Mother,” Lawrence said, his voice filled with a mixture of hope and
determination.

Lady Thornton paused at the door, a cold smirk playing on her lips. “Of course you will,” she
replied, her tone laced with a blend of mockery and expectation.

**Current day **

Lawrence Thornton sat alone in the dimly lit room, its walls adorned with faded tapestries
and old portraits. The quiet of the house in the downs was a welcome respite from the chaos
of the estate. The ticking of a nearby clock marked the passage of time as he waited. A soft
knock on the door interrupted the silence. Lawrence straightened, his heart racing.

The door creaked open, and a figure slipped in, cloaked in shadow.

Lawrence's face brightened as he rose to his feet, his tension melting into a soft smile. "I'm
glad you could make it."

The figure stepped into the light, revealing Elijah. His presence was both comforting and
electrifying. Elijah closed the door behind him, and the two exchanged warm, knowing
glances.

"We need to stop meeting like this," Elijah murmured, a hint of mischief in his voice. "What if
someone finds out about us?"

Lawrence chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that resonated in the quiet room.

"We're not just fucking around, Elijah.

Elijah's eyes sparkled with a mixture of amusement and affection. "Well, if we're not just
playing, maybe we should find a more discreet place."

They moved closer, their bodies brushing as their lips met in a heated kiss. The intensity of
their connection was palpable, a blend of passion and longing that consumed them both.
The kiss deepened, their breaths mingling, their hands exploring with a fervent urgency.

Lawrence broke the kiss with a soft cough, a trace of blood staining his lips.

Elijah's face shifted to concern. "Are you all right?"

Lawrence tried to smile, though the effort was marred by the blood that trickled from his
nose. Elijah quickly fetched a cloth, gently tending to him.

The intimacy of the moment was underscored by the care in Elijah's touch.

"Don't worry about it," Lawrence said, his voice muffled as he wiped his face.

"It's just a little bleed. Nothing I can't handle."

Elijah sat beside him, pulling Lawrence into a more comfortable position. They lay together,
the warmth of their bodies a stark contrast to the cold reality of Lawrence's situation.

“You’re not getting any better,” Elijah said softly, his voice edged with concern.

“It will be fine,” Lawrence replied, trying to sound reassuring but failing to mask the worry in
his tone.

“You need to tell your mother,” Elijah urged gently.

“Elijah, I’ve told you, I can’t,” Lawrence snapped, a hint of frustration in his voice.

“I’m sorry,” Elijah said, his eyes filled with pain. “I just don’t want to lose you.”

“I’m not going anywhere. When I rule, your kind will walk these streets free. I’ll hold your
hand and we’ll…”

Elijah cut him off, his voice faltering. “I’m getting used to the night. It’s cold and quiet, less
trouble…”

Lawrence leaned over and kissed his forehead. “I’ll fix this, I promise.”

Elijah hesitated for a moment, then spoke again, “I know a healer,some Jeremiah guy.”

“No,” Lawrence interrupted, shaking his head. “No more healers. I’ve killed enough doctors
covering my tracks. I feel like a monster.”

“ Jeremiah is different,” Elijah insisted, “he knows the art. He works with herbs and makes
medicine. I’m sure he can fix you.”
“Elijah,” Lawrence said, trying to dissuade him, “listen. I’ll set up a meeting. If this boy can’t
help you, I’ll kill him myself.” He looked Elijah in the eye and offered a reassuring smile. “I
promise.”

“Okay,” Elijah said with a weak smile, “I’m looking forward to meeting this Jeremiah.”

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