The night broke with thunder.
Liana jolted awake to the sound of tires screeching outside her grandmother's cottage. For a second, she thought it was just the rain again — until she heard the first crash.
The front door splintered.
Her grandmother screamed.
Liana's body reacted before her mind caught up. She grabbed the small flash drive on her desk — the only copy of her message logs — and shoved it into her pocket. Her pulse slammed against her ribs as boots stomped down the hall.
"Liana Monroe!" a voice barked, sharp, mechanical, distorted through a helmet.
She backed away from the door, whispering, "No, no, no—"
Then glass shattered.
Two guards in black armor burst through, rifles drawn. Their insignias bore the Alderian crest — her own kingdom's symbol.
"Hands where we can see them!" one yelled.
Her grandmother, frail and confused, tried to stand from the couch. "Who are you? What—"
A guard shoved her aside. She hit the corner of the table and fell with a sickening thud.
"Grandma!" Liana screamed. She ran toward her, but a hand yanked her back by the hair. She kicked and clawed, feeling her scalp tear.
"Don't make this harder than it has to be," the lead guard hissed. His tone wasn't official — it was hungry, mocking.
Her heart froze. These weren't palace soldiers.
They were hunters.
And they knew exactly who she was.
⸻
At the same time, in the marble halls of the Alderian Palace, chaos had a different face.
The council chamber roared with shouts. Screens lined the walls, each one replaying the same damning footage that had just been released by Vareen's state media.
Adrian Alden — heir to Alderia — standing over Princess Elara.
His voice cold.
His hand gripping her wrist.
"You think love protects you, Elara? You think it saves you?"
Then the screen cut to black — and the headlines ignited.
"Alderia's Prince Exposed: Threat Before Disappearance."
"Vareen Publishes Final Proof."
Adrian sat in silence as the room around him boiled. His eyes were fixed on the screen, his jaw locked. He'd seen the footage before — but not like this. This version was edited. Cropped. The angle had been changed. His voice distorted.
He rose slowly, the chair scraping back against the marble. "That's not me."
But no one answered.
One of the ministers slammed his palm on the table. "It doesn't matter what you say anymore, Your Highness. The people believe what they see."
"Then they're seeing a lie."
"Then prove it!"
The words hit like a lash.
Isabella stood at the end of the room, her hands trembling at her sides. She wanted to defend him, but the weight of evidence — or what looked like it — was crushing. She met her son's eyes and whispered, "Adrian… what did you do that night?"
He turned toward her, wounded. "Mother, I—"
The council doors burst open before he could finish.
A royal guard entered, breathless. "Your Majesty, an anonymous transmission was traced back to a location outside the capital. The sender attempted to contact Prince Adrian directly."
Isabella's heart skipped. "Who?"
The guard hesitated. "A woman. Liana Monroe."
Adrian froze.
That name again — the girl from the footage, the woman whose face haunted every headline.
"She's not a threat," he said quickly. "If she sent something, it's a warning."
But the guard didn't look convinced. "Sire, she's already been located. Teams are en route."
⸻
The word en route echoed through Liana's head as she bolted out the back door, rain slashing against her face. She could barely see through the darkness, her grandmother's cries still ringing behind her.
She stumbled through the muddy alleyways, clutching the flash drive tight. She didn't know where she was running — only that she had to move.
Headlights cut across the street. She dove behind a broken fence as a black van screeched to a halt yards away.
Men in tactical suits spilled out, scanning the area with flashlights.
"Search the perimeter. She's got the drive," one growled.
How did they know about the drive?
She pressed a trembling hand to her lips, trying not to breathe too loud. Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out — a single unread message.
From an unknown number.
RUN EAST. DO NOT LOOK BACK. – C
Her heart raced. Callen? It had to be. Adrian's aide — the only one who'd ever spoken kindly to her during her time at the palace.
She took a breath and ran.
Bullets shredded the night behind her. Sparks burst against the wet asphalt. A scream tore from her throat as one grazed her arm, searing hot.
She didn't stop.
She didn't look back until she reached the ridge that overlooked the old canal. The van's lights were distant now, the rain masking her tracks.
Her body trembled as she collapsed beside the railing. Her grandmother's blood was still on her hands. The city was burning around her, and every screen she passed showed the same monster's face — Adrian's.
But she knew the truth.
Someone was rewriting history — and she was the only one left who could stop it.
She pulled out the flash drive, held it up to the flickering streetlight.
"This is what they killed her for," she whispered, voice shaking. "Fine. You want to hunt me? Then you'll have to find me first."
She wiped her tears, straightened, and looked toward the glowing city below.
"I'm coming for you, Adrian. Even if it gets me killed."
Lightning split the sky — and in its flash, she saw a silhouette standing behind her.
Tall. Motionless. Watching.
"Beautiful night for loyalty," the voice said — low, smooth, too calm.
She spun around — but the figure was gone. Only the rain answered.
A small device on the railing blinked red once, then twice — recording her every word.
Somewhere deep in the palace, in a hidden chamber lined with screens, a shadowed figure smiled faintly as the feed streamed in.
"She's taking the bait," he whispered. "Perfect."
Then he pressed a button.
And across both kingdoms, every major news channel suddenly lit up with one headline:
"Liana Monroe: Fugitive Traitor of the Crown."
Rain swallowed her footsteps as she ran.
Then her phone buzzed. One new message — a video file.
She opened it.
Her grandmother, pale and trembling, sat in a chair — recorded minutes before the attack.
"Liana, if you're watching this… they said if I told you the truth, they'd let you live."
A pause. A trembling breath.
"It wasn't Adrian. It was your father."
Static.
The video cut to black.
My father?….but I don't have a father.