11. Chapter Eleven
Chapter Eleven
Eldrake
I slammed the inn’s door open with enough force to rattle the frame, my chest heaving as I scanned the room.
My eyes found her immediately. Evandra was slumped over in one of the rickety chairs, her usually vibrant hair a dull halo around her pale face.
Her purple dress was soaked in blood— the fabric clinging to her shoulder where the crimson stain was darkest.
“That motherfucker !” I roared, the words tearing from my throat before I could stop them.
The rage inside me was molten iron, boiling over with each second I took in her limp form.
I crossed the distance in three strides and fell to my knees at her side, my blood-covered hands hovering uselessly above her, shaking.
“She’s not moving,” I said, hoarsely. Panic clawed at me, hot and feral.
“Is she… is she dead?” My chest tightened, my heart pounding so hard it felt like it would split open.
She couldn’t be dead. She couldn’t be. The mission was one thing, but the thought of her lifeless—it felt like someone had driven a blade straight through my ribs.
A small hand gripped my shoulder firmly, snapping me out of my spiraling thoughts. Felix.
“She’s going to be okay, big guy,” Felix said, his voice calm but sure, golden eyes soft as he pressed a steadying hand to my shoulder. “She lost too much blood, passed out—but I stitched her up. She just needs rest.” His lips curved in a small smile. “Breathe. She’s not leaving you yet.”
“Ahem. Good,” I said gruffly, willing my voice to steady. “I was just… concerned for the sake of the mission. That’s all.” I tried to casually stand up and act like I wasn’t panicking.
From the corner, Fen leaned against the wall, her arms crossed, unimpressed. Her eyes rolled skyward. “Right…” she muttered, the skepticism thick in her voice.
Felix’s golden eyes flicked up at me, concern threaded with a spark of amusement.
“You’re welcome, by the way. Gods, Captain, I nearly drained myself putting her back together.
A little gratitude wouldn’t kill you.” He gestured at the gore caked across me, wrinkling his nose.
“Honestly, look at you. I hope you don’t expect me to mop that up too. ”
I stilled, the memory flashing through my mind like lightning. Colin’s smug face. His reeking cologne. Eva’s blood on his hands. The way his body crumpled when I tore him apart. I should feel guilty. I didn’t. Not yet. Maybe I never will.
“She was attacked,” I said shortly, my voice like iron. “By Colin.”
“Colin?” Felix repeated, brows shooting up. “That ridiculous little peacock? With the hair oil?” His tone turned sharp.
“The bastard forced himself on her,” I growled. “I was outside the shed where he attacked her. I could smell his cheap cologne—and her blood.”
Fen pushed herself off the wall, her arms dropping. Face sharpening. “And you…?”
I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to. The silence was heavy, broken only by the crackle of the fire in the hearth.
“Fuck.” Felix blew out a breath, dragging a hand through his curls. “Of course you killed him.” He glanced toward Eva, his expression softening, protective. “Good. Bastard didn’t deserve to breathe the same air.”
“Men like him don’t deserve to breathe.” I said, final. No apology. No one argued.
My gaze returned to Evandra. She stirred slightly, a soft whimper escaping her lips. The sound tugged at something deep inside me.
“She needs rest,” Felix said gently, almost like a lullaby, his gaze lingering on her pale face. “She’s safe for now, but if she wakes and sees the pair of you looming like ravens, she’ll faint all over again. Let me sit with her awhile.”
Without thinking, I bent down and scooped her into my arms. She fit there too easily. Her head lolled gently against my chest, and I hated how much that steadied me. Her warmth seeped through my blood-soaked leathers.
“What are you doing?” Fen asked, her tone half-curious, half-annoyed.
“Taking her to her room,” I said simply.
“Of course you are,” she muttered, rolling her eyes again.
Behind me, Felix chuckled under his breath. “Careful, Captain. If you carry her like that every time she swoons, she’ll start doing it on purpose.” His smile was tired but fond, and it was the first thing that made the fire in my chest ease.
I carried her up the stairs with care, following her scent to what could undeniably be her room, each step slow and deliberate.
I laid her down on the narrow bed, the frame groaning beneath the weight of her.
The room was small. Too small. Plain shelves, thin curtains, a scatter of books and little trinkets she’d tried to make mean something.
It wasn’t enough. The walls pressed too close, holding her in like she belonged here.
She didn’t. I could see her in velvet, with firelight painting her skin, a window thrown wide to something bigger than this town.
A place that matched her. I pushed the thought away before it could settle.
She stirred again, her lips parting slightly as if to speak, but no words came. She looked fragile in the dim light, but even in her broken state, she radiated something unbreakable. As I turned to leave, I hesitated, my hand resting on the doorframe.
“I won’t let anyone hurt you again,” the words hung in the air as I stepped into the hallway, closing the door softly behind me.