CHAPTER 36

Another tense dawn greeted Belfoire Manor. The apprehended scarred man lay bound in a locked storeroom on the estate's far wing, under constant guard. Garrington paced nervously, still trembling from the night's ordeal. Vivienne felt exhaustion weighing on her bones as she, Julian, and Lucien prepared to interrogate their captive.

They convened in the old wine cellar—dank and remote, perfect for a private interrogation. Two torch sconces flickered on the stone walls, casting dancing shadows. Lucien stood with arms crossed, an imposing figure in a dark waistcoat. Julian hovered near the archway, pistol holstered but ready. Vivienne lingered nearby, bracing herself for the sight of the captive again.

Guards dragged the scarred man in, dropping him onto a wooden stool. He scowled, a swollen bruise on his temple from Lucien's pommel strike. Bound hands rested in his lap, rope biting into his wrists.

Lucien stepped forward, voice like steel. "Who are you? Who do you serve?"

The man spat blood, glaring defiance. "Kill me if you want—I'll say nothing."

Julian's jaw tightened. "We don't need your death, we need your master's name."

Silence. The man refused to speak. A guard stepped in, cracking knuckles threateningly. Lucien held up a hand, stopping him. "We prefer not to use brutish methods. But we will if forced."

Still no response. Then, surprising them, Garrington shuffled into the cellar, eyes wide. "M-may I try?" he stammered.

Lucien glowered. "Why would you?"

Garrington swallowed. "He recognized me last night, so maybe he'll talk to me." He approached the captive uncertainly. "You said you worked for 'Aubrey.' I know you recognized me. Tell them what you know—I can vouch you did so under threat."

The scarred man sneered. "You, that sniveling gambler? You're nothing. I answer only to the hawk." His lips clamped shut, as though he'd said too much.

Vivienne's heart jumped. "The hawk. That confirms the crest. So 'Aubrey' or someone above him uses the hawk symbol…like Nathaniel." She stepped closer. "We know about the forged arms rumors, the sabotage aimed at the Duke. Spare yourself further misery—help us and we might show mercy."

The captive's eyes flickered with fear. Then his shoulders slumped. "Nathaniel," he muttered. "He calls himself 'Aubrey' sometimes. In the underworld circles, that's his alias. He paid me to recruit muscle, spread falsified documents implicating Belfoire. Bernard was part of it, feeding us schedules."

Lucien's hands clenched. "So it is Nathaniel behind this," he said quietly, a storm of emotions swirling. "Where is he?"

The man shook his head. "I only know he's holed up in a safe house near the northern border. Planning to slip across if cornered. He might have left already, but I was told to keep forging new leads until he gave final orders."

Julian and Vivienne exchanged grim looks. They had suspected Nathaniel, but hearing it confirmed struck with finality. Lucien stood very still, eyes distant as though processing the ultimate betrayal from his own blood.

Garrington let out a shaky sigh. "I can't believe it. He used me too. Damn him."

Lucien glowered at the captive. "If you lie about the safe house, you'll regret it. Men will verify your claim. If it's true, we have our target."

The scarred man slumped, resigned. "I've told all I know. Let me go or kill me—makes no difference now that I've betrayed Nathaniel."

Julian looked at Lucien. "We'll hold him until we confirm the location. Then he faces the law." Lucien gave a curt nod, turning away. Two guards dragged the man out, leaving the group in taut silence.

Vivienne exhaled shakily, pressing a hand to her forehead. "So Nathaniel was behind everything. The footman Bernard was just one pawn. Garrington another. Now we have a place to find him."

Lucien's face was ashen, rage flickering behind his eyes. "My cousin, set on vengeance. All this time. I should have suspected after our inheritance feud. I—" He broke off, fists trembling. "He was at Belfoire recently, under guise of civility, while scheming to destroy me. Now he's fled north to some hideout."

Julian spoke quietly, mindful of Lucien's emotional turmoil. "We strike fast, else he escapes. Let's gather a small force, ride out within a day. He can't have gone too far."

Vivienne nodded. "I'll come as well," she said resolutely. "We must end this together."

Lucien hesitated, looking at her with pained conflict. He opened his mouth as if to forbid it, but then let out a defeated breath. "You both are…key to revealing his plot. Fine. But be warned: if he is truly cornered, Nathaniel may fight with lethal desperation."

Julian's voice hardened. "We'll be ready."

They exited the cellar, each laden with a fierce resolve. Nathaniel Hawke—once a scorned relative, now a hidden ringleader—would meet their combined reckoning. Only then could Lucien clear his name entirely and Vivienne find closure for her family's ruin. For Julian, concluding this mission meant fulfilling his vow to the Crown, and perhaps unlocking a future free of clandestine burdens.

Yet beneath the practical planning, emotions churned. Lucien wrestled with heartbreak and fury at kin betrayal. Julian worried for Vivienne's safety, torn by the strange bond they'd formed. Vivienne feared the looming confrontation might spark further tragedy— and dreaded what decisions would follow once the mission ended.

But the path was set. By nightfall, they would assemble a loyal band of Lucien's men, confirm the safe house location, and embark at dawn. The final chase had begun, a pursuit of truth and retribution that would either break them or forge them anew in the fires of conflict.