Mia woke up on cold tiles.
Fluorescent light stabbed her eyes. The air smelled of coffee, jet fuel, and disinfectant. A rolling suitcase bumped her ankle. Someone's voice crackled over the speakers in a language she didn't understand.
She sat up slowly.
An airport gate.
Row 47.
Boarding for somewhere far away.
Her hands were clean now. Someone had wiped the blood off. Her dress had been replaced by a hoodie two sizes too big and black leggings she didn't own. A boarding pass was crumpled in her fist.
Flight EEE-777.
Destination: nowhere she remembered choosing.
Her head throbbed like someone had been fighting inside it.
*We almost made it,* Lilith hissed, voice raw with rage. *We were at the gate. We were—*
Mircalla cut in, cold and satisfied, the old chains of fire still smoking in her tone.
*And you would have thrown everything away. Again. Triple E owns the plane, owns the pilot, owns the contract. You don't run. You perform.*
Carmilla tried to soften it, gentle as always.
*Shh, little one. You're safe. We kept you safe. Breathe.*
Mia pressed her palms to her temples. The voices overlapped, clawing at each other. She couldn't tell which one had won. She only knew the body was here, not on the plane, and the ticket in her hand felt like a death sentence.
She fumbled for her phone. Screen cracked. Battery at 11 %. She dialed the only number she still knew by heart.
It rang twice.
"Maman…" Her voice cracked the second her mother answered. Tears were already falling. "Maman, I—I don't know where I am. I woke up in an airport. I think… I think I tried to run again. Please, I'm scared. I don't remember how I got here. There was blood and then—then nothing. Come get me. Please."
A long silence on the line.
Then her mother's voice, clipped, exhausted, already calculating damage.
"Mia. For the love of God. You missed the private jet we booked for you. Triple E is furious. They had to cancel the entire VIP lounge appearance in Tokyo. Do you have any idea what this costs us?"
Mia choked on a sob. "Maman, I'm not okay. I woke up on the floor. There are people staring. I—"
"Stop crying. You're in public. Fix your face. I'm sending a car. Stay exactly where you are. And for once in your life, do not talk to anyone. We'll spin this as 'exhaustion.' The usual story."
A pause. Then, softer, almost bored:
"Honestly, darling… sometimes I wonder if you even want this life anymore."
The line went dead.
Mia stared at the black screen.
The voices inside her head went quiet for half a second.
Then Lilith laughed — low, dark, and final.
*Next time,* she whispered, *we won't ask permission.*
Mircalla answered with the old, tired certainty of a soldier who had already lost the war but still held the gate.
*There won't be a next time. Not while I'm here.*
Mia curled into herself on the airport floor, hoodie sleeves pulled over her bloody knuckles, and cried like the child she no longer remembered being.
Around her, strangers rolled their suitcases past without looking.
The boarding call for flight EEE-777 echoed one last time.
And somewhere deep inside the palace, the balance of power tilted again — one more inch toward the dark.