Silver Shackles Under the Moonlight

Chapter 10: Midnight Masquerade and Lingering Warmth

The dinner finally concluded amidst a suffocating display of opulence. Astrid felt a heavy weight in her stomach—not just from the expensive, high-energy delicacies, but from the exhausting nature of this lethal hunting game.

In the dappled shadows of the underground parking garage, Julian’s mask of a refined gentleman remained perfectly intact. He was insistent on driving her home.

"There’s no need, Julian," Astrid declined frostily, her gaze cutting across his face like a shard of ice. "I have to handle the Country S orders tomorrow. Also, when you take my car for maintenance, remember—I have a germaphobia. Do not let any 'scent' that doesn't belong to me defile my territory."

She emphasized the word "defile" with a weight that carried the gravity of a final judgment. Julian’s body stiffened for a fraction of a second, as if he had sensed a flicker of the hidden danger.

However, he quickly recovered his facade of devotion. Starting the engine, he leaned out of the window, his eyes gleaming with a frantic, obsessive heat. "Astrid, you must believe me. I truly love you."

Love? Astrid watched the car disappear into the distance, her lips curling into a self-deprecating sneer. In a world where bloodlines and contracts dictated everything, "love" uttered so cheaply was worth less than synthetic plasma.

The moment Julian vanished from sight, Astrid’s forced composure finally crumbled. The humiliation of being deceived and toyed with like prey transformed into scalding tears that cascaded down her face. She leaned against a cold concrete pillar, her body trembling violently as suppressed, jagged sobs tore from her throat.

"Damnable liar... rotting trash..." she hissed under her breath, her nails clawing deep into the crevices of the wall as if trying to tear through this surreal nightmare.

After an eternity, her tears finally ran dry. Taking a shuddering breath, she tilted her head back and swept her disheveled golden hair away from her face. She prepared to leave, only to freeze in her tracks.

Killian Valerius was standing by the private elevator bank, his tall, cool silhouette outlined by the dim amber lights. He looked... different. Behind his rimless glasses, his eyes were hazy, and his usual sharp, crushing aura had been replaced by a boozy, decadent languor.

"Astrid?" he called out softly. His voice carried the faint scent of alcohol and a raspy, magnetic pull.

Astrid frantically wiped the lingering traces of tears from her eyes, trying to dodge his gaze. But Killian stumbled toward her, his body lacking its usual predatory balance.

"It’s you..." He swayed, nearly losing his footing.

Astrid instinctively reached out to steady him. The overwhelming heat of a powerful Alpha surged through his clothes, sending a jolt through her very core.

"My Lord..." Her voice, still thick with the remnants of her crying, sounded soft and tremulous. Her mind was a chaotic mess: betrayed by her fiancé, humiliated by her best friend, and now forced to play nursemaid to the cold-hearted boss who had claimed her body. The script of her life had become utterly absurd.

"You were crying?" Killian leaned against her shoulder, his head dipping low as he searched for her eyes.

"The wind was too strong; something got in my eye," Astrid snapped, offering a perfunctory excuse. "Mr. Valerius, where is your driver? Give me the keys."

She fumbled through his blazer pockets, finding nothing but the firm, muscular contours of his frame.

"Didn't drive," Killian tilted his head, his amber pupils locking onto her tear-reddened nose. His tone was unexpectedly... boyish.

Gritting her teeth, Astrid dialed Sebastian’s number.

[Sebastian, get down to the garage this instant. Your boss is so drunk he’s practically a puddle of mud.]

[Oh, darling Astrid, do you know what time it is? I’ve already entered hibernation mode.]

[Cut the crap! You’re his Executive Officer! If you don't want him, I’m leaving him here to feed the wolves!]

There was a two-second silence. [Put the Lord on the phone.]

Astrid shoved the phone into Killian’s hand. He took it and turned away, murmuring a few curt responses.

[Mhm.] [Yes, that shop.] [I don't need you.]

Sebastian had already deduced the truth. His boss was a High Pureblood who could drink aged blood-wine like water; there was no way two glasses of red could reduce him to this. This was clearly a top-tier predator playing the victim to solicit sympathy.

[Understood, My Lord. I shall 'call in sick' immediately. I wish you a... delightful evening.]

As the call ended, Killian collapsed his weight back onto Astrid’s shoulder as if his bones had turned to jelly.

"He... he turned off his phone!" Astrid stared at the black screen in disbelief, eventually resigning herself to hailing a taxi.

In the backseat, Killian let his head rest heavily in the crook of Astrid’s neck. That scent of cold silver fir mixed with the warmth of alcohol gave her an inexplicable sense of security. She turned her head to look at his nearly perfect face and, emboldened by the darkness, reached out to pinch his cheek. "If I sold this kind of beauty on the black market, it would probably cover ten years of my salary, wouldn't it?"

The driver in the front seat let out a knowing, muffled chuckle.

With great difficulty, she managed to haul the massive problem back to the Valerius Estate. At the entrance, a flock of guards rushed forward, only to be sent scurrying back by a single, lethal glare from Killian.

"Stay away from me," he growled, before slumping back into Astrid’s arms.

"Are you a giant hound? You’re heavy!" Astrid used every ounce of her strength to fling him onto the leather sofa in the grand hall.

She was rubbing her aching shoulders and preparing to bolt when she felt a sharp tug on her wrist. Killian lunged with sudden force, yanking her into his embrace. Astrid slammed into his broad chest, her senses instantly overwhelmed by a heat that made her heart race.

"Don't go..." he whispered against her ear.

SLAP!

A crisp, resounding crack echoed through the hall.

Astrid was startled by her own reflexive response. Seeing the vivid red mark blooming on Killian’s cheek, she guiltily reached out to rub it. "I’m sorry... I... I didn't mean to..."

Killian touched his face, sitting on the sofa and watching her with a thoughtful expression. The butler and the maids nearby were so shocked their jaws nearly hit the floor. This wasn't just their Lord; he was the Emperor of Valkyrie, and he had just been slapped by a human girl?

Astrid scrambled up, smoothing her red dress. She turned to the stunned maid and whispered urgently, "If he asks tomorrow, tell him... tell him he hit his face on the doorframe when getting out of the car!"

With that, she vanished from the estate like a gust of wind.

Two minutes later, the "delirious" Killian sat up with perfect composure and took the hangover tea handed to him by the butler.

"Hiss—" He touched his burning cheek, watching the direction where Astrid had disappeared. The glint of amusement in his eyes was finally impossible to hide.

"Quite the wild one," he murmured.

The butler lowered his head to hide a smirk. His once-aloof Lord had resorted to such a clumsy deception just to keep a girl around—and had earned a slap for his troubles. It was truly a miracle of the modern world.

Back in her dilapidated apartment in Plum Blossom Alley, the first thing Astrid did was strip off the red dress Julian had touched and shove it ruthlessly into the trash. She then charged into the shower, letting the scalding water wash away the dust of a hypocritical world.