Chapter 19
Nineteen
Kaden
Iwatch her from the hidden camera feed in the conservatory. She sits on the stone bench, her curvy figure a soft contrast amidst the riot of green. Her shoulders are slumped, her head bowed. She clutches that worn journal to her chest like a shield.
My lips twitch. She thinks she’s alone. She thinks she has privacy. She has neither. In my world, privacy is a luxury I reserve only for myself. And even then, it’s an illusion.
She traces patterns on the glass, her reflection staring back at her.
Skin white as snow, lips red as blood, hair black as ebony.
The words my mother used to whisper to me as a child, from the Grimm’s tales, now apply to her.
She is the fairest. And Evilin, the wretched queen, will never hold a candle to her full, vibrant beauty.
My mother. She would have loved the conservatory.
She would have seen the beauty in Wynter, too.
But she would have warned me. Warned me about the dangers of obsession, about the fragility of beauty, about the cost of claiming what is not truly yours.
But my mother is gone. And I am my father’s son, a man who takes what he wants.
I watch as a small bird lands on the glass, its bright eyes studying her.
A pang of something akin to jealousy, sharp and unwelcome, shoots through me.
Even the wild creatures are drawn to her.
She has a connection to nature, a purity that I, in my dark world, can only observe from a distance.
She is the forest princess, and I am the hunter who brought her home.
She sighs, a long, weary sound that reaches me even through the muted audio feed.
She is tired. But she is not broken. Not yet.
The fire is still there, simmering beneath the surface.
I saw it in her eyes when she defied me at breakfast. I felt it in her body when she responded to my kiss. She fights. Good. I prefer a challenge.
My phone buzzes. It’s Alrik.
“Sir, the Emily Carter file is complete. And we have a problem.”
“Speak,” I command, my eyes still fixed on Wynter’s image on the screen.
“Evilin Blanc has put out a substantial bounty for Wynter’s return. She’s using her old connections in the city. The word is, she’s frantic. She’s telling everyone Wynter was kidnapped.”
A cold smile touches my lips. “Good. Let her be frantic. Let her spend her money. It will only make her fall harder.”
“The problem, sir,” Alrik continues, his voice grim, “is that she’s specifically targeting Wynter’s friend, Emily Carter. She’s convinced Emily knows where Wynter is. She’s offering a reward for information leading to Emily’s whereabouts, and a much larger one for Emily herself.”
My jaw clenches. Evilin. Always predictable. Always cruel. She sees Emily as the "magic mirror" that might reveal Wynter's location.
“Is Emily safe?” I demand, my voice sharper than I intend. The thought of Evilin’s filthy hands touching anyone connected to Wynter, especially given her history of body-shaming and control over Wynter's diet, sends a surge of possessive rage through me.
“For now,” Alrik replies. “My men have her under discreet surveillance. She’s at her apartment. Unaware of the bounty on her head.”
“Unaware?” I scoff. “That won’t last. Evilin will escalate. She always does.”
I lean back in my chair, my mind racing.
This complicates things. I wanted Emily as leverage, a silent threat.
But if Evilin goes after her, it could expose Wynter’s location, or worse, put Emily in genuine danger.
And if Emily is harmed, Wynter will never forgive me.
Her trust, fragile as it is, would shatter completely.
“Bring Emily Carter here,” I order, my decision made.
Alrik hesitates. “Sir? The compound’s security protocols… bringing an outsider in…”
“I said bring her here,” I repeat, my voice leaving no room for argument. “Discreetly. No one sees her. No one touches her. She is to be housed in the guest wing. Secure her. But she is not a prisoner. She is a guest. A very important guest.”
“Understood,” Alrik says, his voice tight. “It will be done.”
I cut the connection. My gaze returns to the screen. Wynter is still sitting on the bench, her head resting against the cool stone. She looks so soft, so real, so perfectly formed.
Evilin wants her back. She wants her "mirror" to tell her she's still the fairest. But the mirror has shown her a truth she cannot bear. Wynter is the fairest. And she is mine.
I will protect my Snowflake. From Evilin.
From the world. From anyone who dares to threaten what is mine.
Even if it means bringing her friend into my gilded cage.
It’s a risk, but a calculated one. Emily will be safer here, under my direct protection, than out there, a pawn in Evilin’s increasingly desperate game.
And Wynter… Wynter will know that I protect those she cares about. It’s another seed planted. Another layer of the cage. A cage built not just of steel and glass, but of protection and perceived kindness. A cage she might eventually, willingly, choose to stay in.