XXI
LUCIAN
The day dawns clear—golden light streaming through the window. I wake to warmth, but it’s not from the sun. The fire has burned low in the hearth. The air smells of burnt cedar and the fresh scent of body wash. There’s a quiet stillness in the room, the kind of hush that exists right after dawn.
Waking up in the cottage is always peaceful. But this time feels different. In a good way. I stretch with a yawn, my toes curling. Wait—why don’t I have any sheets?
That’s when I feel her.
Eden.
Her body is curled against mine, her head resting lightly on my chest. The slow rhythm of her breathing seeps through the fabric of my shirt, prickling my skin with droplets of heat. One of her hands is curled gently against my ribs.
She’s small against me.
Where I’m all sharp angles, she’s soft.
Something thrums inside my chest, the same thing that I felt the first time I saw her. Something that I buried deep down because it wouldn’t do either of us any good. Something fragile.
Something I don’t know what to do with. I should move. I should untangle myself. But I don’t. Instead, I stare at her.
Every time I’ve seen her—apart from last night—she’s been measured, controlled. Her hands folded neatly in her lap. Her words careful. Her posture straight. But here, in the quiet glow of the rising sun, she’s soft.
She’d never let her guard down this much if she was awake. And she’d never dress this way either. She’s lost in my clothes, but to me, they fit her perfectly.
Her dark lashes rest against her warm brown skin, casting the faintest of shadows beneath her eyes. Eden’s lips are slightly parted, the corners curved slightly. They’re a shade darker than the rest of her skin—it takes all of my self control not to trace them with my thumb. That would wake her up, and she needs rest now more than ever.
Her hair slips over the pillow in a cascade of tight curls, catching the light like burnished copper. I brush a loose coil away from her face, gently enough not to wake her. The strands are soft against my finger tips. Silkier than all the times I had imagined them.
I spend more time feeling her hair than I should.
She has no idea how utterly perfect she is.
I turn my attention to the ceiling. Each thought about her feels like it shouldn’t be there. Eden Lockhart isn’t mine. Yet, lying here, her body tucked against me, I can pretend otherwise.
Because she asked me to stay with her.
I close my eyes, inhaling slowly, listening to the steady rhythm of her heartbeat.
If I could keep her here in this quiet moment, just the two of us, while the world is still asleep, where nothing else matters…
I would.
But I can’t.
Because I have work to do. Silas will try to come back for her. Even though Max, Alistair and Cedric may be warned off, they’re still loyal to him. I won’t let Eden fall back into their hands. The decision settles on me, like a stone sinking to the bottom of a lake. Gently, I ease myself out of the bed without waking her up.
I have a war to start.
By the time the sun has risen, the campus is busy.
I didn’t even bother to put on my uniform today—instead I opted for a black long-sleeved shirt, black jeans and a pair of thick boots in case I need to crush someone’s head.
Students file by me in calm, orderly lines. Nearly all of them give me strange looks, but I’m used to it by now. Someone that looks like me shouldn’t be here.
This is a “Holy School” after all, and I’m anything but.
It’s a shame that most of them will never realize that there’s nothing to revere here, no god that can save them from the reality of life. Most of them aren’t even aware of the darkness that lurks around every corner here.
That’s the thing about the dark.
You never know it’s there until it has already consumed you.
I stalk the cobblestone path that winds through the gardens, following the track that passes the Boys’ Dormitory, leading to the courtyard. If those fuckers are anywhere—they will be under that goddamn tree that they’ve claimed as their own.
When I turn the corner, I find them.
Not all of them.
Silas is missing.
Of course he would run. After what he did to Eden last night I’m certain he knew his retribution would be coming, and at my hand no less. I warned him, and he still did those horrendous things to her—I can’t even bring myself to think about it.
After all, he’s a coward. Only cowards hurt women the way he does. I have my own kinks and dark desires. But Silas is a literal demon.
He carved a fucking pentagram into her chest.
I walk over to them with the image of how I found Eden last night burned in my brain. Naked and covered in blood. If she hadn’t called me, they would have found her nearly dead like Dana and Meeka. The thought of it has fire licking at my skin, swirling in my chest, begging to crawl out.
Silas’ shadows will have to do for now.
I’m certain they’ll deliver the message.
The Three Stooges—Max, Alistair and Cedric—are seated beneath the towering oak tree. They pretend to not see me approach. Max lounges against the bench, taking slow puffs of a vape. Cedric leans forward, elbows on his knees. Alistair is still, his arms crossed.
When I’m a few paces away from them, they look up .
None of them look surprised.
Max takes the first shot.
“If you’re looking for Silas, you’re late.” He smirks, taking another puff of his cancer stick. “He’s gone to ask Eden’s father for her hand.” That sentence sends a shock through me but I keep myself composed. There’s no way her father would say yes to that—the women that marry into the Peregrine-Ashford family never live long. “You should’ve dragged yourself out of bed a little earlier, Beaumont.”
Beaumont.
They all call me that, even though they know the truth. Does it make them feel better about themselves to ignore the fact that my last name is Augustine -Beaumont?
My hands are in my pockets, my voice calm and deliberate.
“I’m not looking for Silas,” I say.
Alistair watches me carefully. “Then what do you want?”
I let the silence stretch, studying them, making them uncomfortable with my presence. “You lackeys can pass a message along, right? Let Silas know that Eden Lockhart is off-limits from this point forward.”
The air shifts the moment the words are out of my mouth.
The tension is subtle, but I notice it—the way Alistair’s fingers flex, the way Cedric tilts his head slightly, the way Max’s smirk deepens.
It’s a recognition of what this means.
A line drawn in the sand.
Cedric is the first to laugh, shaking his head. “You’re serious?”
I don’t blink. “Do I look like I’m not?”
“You expect us…” Max is amused. “To tell Silas that you, Lucian Beaumont, says that his girlfriend who he is going to propose to is off-limits…to him?” He laughs. I want to punch ou t his teeth. “You’re fucking stupider than we thought, mate.”
Alistair smiles. “What makes you think you can even tell him that?” Out of the three of them, he’s the least annoying. Which isn’t a compliment. “What could you possibly do?”
I tilt my head slightly.
It’s my turn to mockingly laugh at them.
“I’ll make sure each of you pays for his sins.”
I watch their smirks fade.
Not entirely, but enough for me to know that their facade is crumbling.
I glance at Max first, letting my gaze settle on him with quiet weight. He’s treating it like some sort of staring contest, but I’m calculating my next move.
“You’ve all got dirty little secrets hiding in your closet,” I say with a shrug. “It’d be a pity if people found out what you guys are really up to.”
Max’s fingers twitch around his vape. He doesn’t respond, doesn’t even move. He knows that whatever I’m about to say, I mean it. I don’t bluff. Without their pitiful leader here, they are sitting ducks—weaklings who can’t even muster the courage to fight back.
“Just spit it out already, Beaumont,” Cedric hisses. “We’re not interested in your theatrics, and I’m getting real bored.”
“You all underestimate me. You underestimate how far I’m willing to go to protect someone I care about.” I meet each of their gazes with mine, cold as ever. “I’ll tell everyone about The Order, about the fact that you’re all sadistic rapists.”
They’re still.
“You can’t,” Alistair sneers. “The Spirit would never allow you. You forsook your rights to The Order the moment you decided not to join us after your initiation. ”
I laugh, full-throated and deep. “The spirit would never allow me to?” I crack a smile that’s anything but pleasant. “You dumbasses have forgotten a critical piece of the puzzle. Gods crumble without worshippers. The spirit has no power over me because I do not acknowledge its authority.” I continue, watching their faces. “Has it ever occurred to you that it’s trapped in the fucking catacombs? A ‘being’ so powerful, yet it requires you to make blood sacrifices in exchange for a chance at power.”
I cock my head. “But you spineless fools will believe anything.”
The words are barely out his mouth when Cedric lunges at me, which I expected—I didn’t know which one of them would be stupid enough to try. I punch him hard in the face.
There’s a crunch.
He staggers backward, blood leaking from his nose.
His friends shift in their seats, like they’d want to defend him. But like the cowards they are, they don’t attack me. Max moves to help Cedric, while Alistair gives me a look that could kill.
Pitiful, the whole lot of them.
The whole dynamic has changed now. Their confidence has evaporated, replaced with the unsurety of fear. Now that the scales have been rebalanced, it’s time to make sure they don’t forget what this is really about.
I take a step back, adjusting my posture—I stand at six foot six, taller than them, and I’m aware of how I look. The tattoos, the unkempt hair, the reckless look in my eye. They know better than to try to intimidate me.
I don’t have a fucking thing to lose.
My voice is effortless, even as I rub a thumb over my bruised knuckles. “Do not mistake this for a request. This is not a deal. This is me telling you —stay away from Eden Lockhart. Keep Silas away from her when he returns. I don’t give a flying fuck what he’s away from school doing.”
I let the words settle.
Then finally, I smile. “And if you don’t…”
I glance between them, slow and deliberate.
“The whole world will find out what you motherfuckers do in the catacombs.”
I leave them sitting in silence.
My strides are long, my shoulders squared. The courtyard stretches in front of me, bright and golden, but I can feel their dark gazes on me.
I don’t look back. There’s nothing else I have to say to them. Silas on the other hand? There are a few things he and I have to iron out.
But for now, I’ve won.
Now I need to get back to focusing on the only thing that matters to me at the moment. Eden’s wellbeing.
But when I return to my cottage, the door is ajar.
And Eden is gone.