My Sister Stole My Mate, And I Let Her Chapter 455 THE ENEMY’S SIDE

SERAPHINA’S POV

The sheer impact of the moment stole my breath and my thoughts.

For an instant that felt like an eternity, my world contracted, focusing solely on him.

Lucian.

The man who had once offered solace in my darkest hours, who had provided a new path and granted me augmented strength.

The same man whose intentions I had scrutinized, debated, defended, resented, and in a hidden, wounded part of my being, loathed.

‘And if somehow, someway, I ever stand in front of you again... Do not trust me.’

Lucian’s gaze locked with mine across the illuminated expanse, carrying an unreadable sentiment.

He began to turn—

“Lucian—stop!”

The command erupted from me instinctively, a surge from a place far deeper than reason, more potent than self-control.

Unbidden power flowed into my voice, weaving through the utterance of his name, transforming it from mere sound into a palpable force.

Across the shimmering boundary of the delay trap, Lucian’s body locked in place.

At first, it was subtle – a tightening in his shoulders, a stillness in his hand as it gripped Thomas’s arm.

Then, the rigidity intensified, immobilizing his spine as if the earth itself had claimed him.

The surrounding forest fell into an unnerving silence.

The light emanating from the trap pulsed between us, casting distorted shadows across his features and glinting in his eyes, lending them an almost haunted appearance.

In a suspended moment, the chasm between us vanished, not physically, but through a profound connection and mutual recognition.

It was the faintresonance of our past bond.

A sharp pain tightened my chest as I held his gaze, the resonant energy of my command still vibrating in the air between us.

“Let him go,” I instructed, my voice now softer but no less authoritative. “Lucian...don’t do this.”

His fingers slightly loosened their hold on Thomas’s arm.

A flicker of hope ignited within me, piercing the numbing shock that had held me captive.

Hope that he might alter his course.

That he might cease his actions.

That he might extricate himself from the darkness that had drawn him to this precipice.

Lucian’s jaw muscles tensed.

I observed the internal struggle play across his features like an unseen tempest, etching lines of tension and disrupting his breathing.

“Sera,” Kieran cautioned me gently, his hand firming its grip on my waist.

His words barely registered.

“Lucian,” I urged, my voice imbued with a deeper inflection this time, transcending mere command. “You don’t have to—”

His eyes darted.

Then, something within him fractured.

The transition was shockingly abrupt.

The previous hesitation was replaced by a cold, unyielding determination.

His grip on Thomas re-tightened, as if he had brutally suppressed every errant impulse.

The connection I had sensed evaporated, like a door abruptly slammed shut.

Lucian’s lips parted slightly, and for a fleeting instant, I anticipated him speaking.

Offering an apology.

Providing an explanation.

However, any words that might have been formed perished before they could escape.

Instead, he retreated.

Moving beyond the reach of my voice.

Escaping the tenuous hold I had momentarily established.

Thomas faltered as Lucian pulled him, then regained his balance, glancing back one last time toward Brett.

Then, they fled. Swiftly.

Their speed rendered the distance imposed by our confinement irrelevant.

“No!” Brett surged forward, colliding with the invisible barrier with a snarl that ripped through the tranquil forest. “Thomas!”

The trap reacted, the air growing heavier, pulling him back and forcing him to his knees as the contained energy intensified with his struggle.

“Brett, stop!” Maya commanded sharply, grasping his arm.

He fought against her hold, his movements radiating fury and agony. “Let me go!”

They vanished into the dense trees, swallowed by the encroaching shadows as the final pulse of light from the delay trap flared and faded.

“They’re gone,” Corin stated with a clipped tone, though his own vexation was palpable.

Kieran’s arm remained encircling me, a steadying presence, yet I was largely oblivious to it.

My focus remained fixed on the spot where Lucian had stood.

The place where he had irrevocably demonstrated his allegiance to the enemy.

LUCIAN’S POV

Our flight continued unabated until the forest dissolved into deeper darkness.

Until their trail dissolved behind us.

Until the insistent ache in my chest diminished from an unbearable weight to a sensation I could at least feign ignoring.

Thomas stumbled as our pace slackened, bracing himself against a tree. His breathing was ragged, but his expression was already reverting to one of sharp calculation.

I released him without preamble.

He expelled a breath that bordered on laughter, though devoid of any mirth.

“Well,” he remarked, regaining his composure, “that was… quite something.”

I remained silent.

The residual pain in my chest took longer than expected to subside.

Longer than it should have for the echo of Sera’s voice to fade.

Even now, it persisted, weaving through my consciousness, transporting me back to that critical moment when her command had reverberated through the woods.

The impact it had was profound, transcending mere thought and plunging directly into the essence of my being.

For one unbelievable instant, all else ceased to matter.

Thomas's presence beside me.

The sprawling forest.

The hidden trap.

The critical mission.

Everything faded into insignificance when measured against the sheer power of her presence, the arresting intensity of her gaze that pierced the mental fog Catherine had so carefully woven around my consciousness.

‘Lucian… please, don’t do this.’

I had no desire to.

Gods, I truly did not want to.

The urge surged with such violence that it stole the scarce air from my lungs, erupting from a place that was deeply wounded yet stubbornly alive.

For a perilous, fleeting moment, it felt as though I were escaping a terrible nightmare, breaking the surface from a suffocating depth into air that was bracingly sharp and undeniably real.

Yet, I could feel it—the insidious mechanism Catherine had embedded within me to ensure my absolute obedience.

A searing pain shot through my chest, so acute it momentarily blurred my vision. It wasn't a purely physical sensation, but something that felt as if it reached into the crucial space between intention and action, twisting cruelly.

It was a shackle.

An unbreakable leash.

Thomas cast a glance my way, his eyes lingering with a look of understanding that caused my jaw to clench.

“You faltered,” he observed.

It was a definitive statement, not a question.

I remained silent.

He exhaled softly, pushing himself away from the rough bark of the tree.

“I understand,” he resumed, his tone almost nonchalant. “It’s difficult, seeing someone you care for—”

“Enough.”

The single word sliced through his words with sharp finality.

He fell silent—briefly.

Then, a smile touched his lips. It was subtle, yet laced with a distinct bitterness.

“We are not so dissimilar, you and I,” he remarked. “Both yearning for individuals who will never reciprocate our affections as we desire.”

My dwindling patience frayed further.

“At least your circumstances are more fortunate,” he added, tilting his head slightly. “She still harbors feelings for you. It's undeniable. The way she regarded you? The sound of your name on her lips?”

A tiny ember of defiance flickered within me. However, I was too compromised, too deeply entrenched in my current state, for even the faintest glimmer of hope to take root.

“Brett,” Thomas continued, his demeanor shifting, “he will never look at me with such emotion. Not now. Not ever.”

There was no trace of self-pity in his voice.

Only a chilling resignation—and an undercurrent of something more sinister.

I drew a slow breath, deliberately redirecting my focus to the matter at hand.

“This is not a counseling session,” I stated. “What was the outcome?”

Thomas’s expression grew more intense.

“Not entirely successful,” he conceded. “Nightfang’s defenses are more robust than anticipated. I had no further opportunity to see Celeste, let alone abduct her again. And then those fools uncovered the truth.”

I clenched my jaw, revealing nothing of my internal reactions.

A significant portion of my loyalty was irrevocably—and forcibly—bound to Catherine and Marcus, yet the minuscule fragment that still operated under my own volition rejoiced at any disruption to their plans.

“However,” Thomas carried on, a thread of satisfaction weaving into his tone, “I still secured what Catherine required.”