Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Evangeline
The lifeless kitten lay before me, its matted fur glistening with congealed blood. Beside it, an envelope bearing my name seemed to mock me, its crisp whiteness a jarring contrast to the macabre scene. The sight left me reeling; my breathing had resorted to ragged gasps.
But it wasn't just the brutality that shook me to my core. It was the message—the threat. Someone knew. Someone had discovered the secret I'd tried so desperately to hide, the guilt I'd carried for five years since that terrible night.
I know what you've done.
The words echoed in my mind, sending ice through my veins. Memories I'd fought to bury for years resurfaced—moments of shame and guilt that had nearly destroyed me once before, choices that had led to consequences I was still living with.
"Don't worry, princess. I've got you." James's gruff voice cut through the haze of panic, his presence solid and protective at my back—a stark contrast to the threatening message that seemed to mock my carefully constructed new life.
I didn't want to face him and let him see the stark fear written all over my face.
"I... I'm fine. It's nothing." The lie tasted bitter on my tongue.
He scoffed, the sound harsh and disbelieving. "Right. 'Course it is. That's why you're shaking like a leaf and staring at that mess like it holds the secrets of the universe."
Shame burned in my stomach. He saw too much. Those piercing blue eyes seemed to see right through the perfect princess facade, straight to the scared girl beneath.
I couldn't let him see. I couldn't bear his judgment, the disappointment I knew I'd find in his gaze if he ever learned the truth of what I'd done, what had been done to me.
Squaring my shoulders, I fought to steady my voice. "I'm just tired. It's late, and this is… unsettling. I'd like to go inside now."
I made to step around him, but his hand shot out, fingers closing around my wrist in a firm but surprisingly gentle grip. The contact sent a jolt of unwelcome heat skittering up my arm, my traitorous pulse leaping beneath his touch.
"Not so fast, Princess." His eyes narrowed, his scrutiny palpable as a physical touch. "You know something. Something about all this. And you're gonna tell me what it is."
Panic flared anew, lodging in my throat. I couldn't. I couldn't voice my shame, couldn't confess my sins. Not to him. Not to anyone.
Wrenching my arm free, I stumbled back, needing distance and escaping that penetrating stare that seemed to see straight to my darkest secrets.
"I don't know what you're talking about. I don't know anything about this. I swear it." The words tumbled out of me, too quickly, too desperate. "Please, I just want to go inside."
He stared at me for a long, charged moment; I could practically see the wheels turning behind those shrewd eyes, my imagination taking control of the calculations and suspicions that formed the longer we stood here.
At last, he gave a curt nod, his jaw tight. "Fine. But we're not done here, Princess." He spat my title like an epithet, his tone making it clear it was not a promise but a threat.
The next two weeks were suffocating. James tightened security to an extreme degree; his presence was constant and overwhelming.
He followed me everywhere—to classes, meals, even waiting outside my bedroom door each morning.
The bodyguard, who had kept a professional distance, was replaced by a man determined to uncover my secrets.
Every conversation between us crackled with tension. The careful civility we'd built disappeared. He questioned me daily, always circling back to that night, pressing for answers I didn't want to give him.
"You can't keep lying to me, Princess," he bit out again and again, fury and frustration rolling off him in palpable waves. "Something's going on here, something to do with you. And I will find out what it is, one way or the other."
And God help me, but a treacherous part of me wanted to give in, to unburden myself of this cross I'd carried alone for so long. But I knew I couldn't. I knew he would turn from me if he learned what I had done and what others had done to me.
The threats had started just weeks after the news broke about Viktor's body being found in that river.
Three years he'd been missing, three years I'd been free, and now someone wanted to drag me back into that nightmare.
Someone who knew about the scandal that had forced my hand, that had made me agree to marry a monster just to save my family's reputation.
The atmosphere between us grew more and more charged, the air practically crackling with all the things left unspoken.
Stolen glances became electric; every accidental brush of skin scalding in its intensity.
He consumed my every thought, my every sense, until I was drowning in him, in the paradox of safety and danger he represented.
I wanted him—God, how I wanted him. But I was broken, tainted by secrets and choices from my past that still haunted me.
And he...he was wholeness and strength and everything I could never deserve after everything I'd done, everything that had been done to me.
So I pushed him away, lied until I was choking on my deceit.
Because the alternative—the truth, in all its grotesque, sordid glory—would surely be my undoing.
The past two weeks had been suffocating. James's increased security measures meant I couldn't take a step without him knowing about it. Every conversation felt like an interrogation, and every glance seemed to carry an accusation, professional distance and unspoken tension.
But it was the way he looked at me sometimes—when he thought I wasn't paying attention—that was driving me crazy.
Heat, longing, and something deeper that he quickly shuttered behind his professional mask.
We were both pretending that night on the sofa hadn't happened, that we hadn't almost crossed a line that would have changed everything.
I was tired of pretending. Tired of being careful. Tired of being a princess who couldn't even choose her own battles.
By the time Halloween arrived—just over six weeks after I'd first met James—I was desperate for escape.
The coffee shop was warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the cold tension that had become my constant companion at home.
James waited in the car outside while I sat with Octavia and Gabriela, both dressed in casual Halloween costumes—cat ears for Octavia and devil horns for Gabi.
"Eve, you look absolutely miserable," Octavia said, stirring her latte with more force than necessary. "You can't keep living like this."
I stared into my untouched coffee, watching the cream swirl in meaningless patterns. "He questions me every single day. Every time I try to talk to him about anything else, he brings up that night." My voice cracked slightly. "I can't take it anymore."
The guilt twisted deeper in my stomach as I thought about James waiting outside.
He was just doing his job, trying to protect me, but he was also slowly killing me with his relentless questions, his piercing stares, the way he looked at me like I was a puzzle he needed to solve.
But wasn't I doing the same to him? Testing his boundaries, pushing his buttons, trying to crack through that professional facade to see the man underneath?
I thought about the night he'd prepared my bath and his gentle voice when he'd apologised. That man—the one who'd held me while I cried, who'd threatened to kill for me—was the one I was falling for. But he also retreated behind walls of duty and protocol every time we got too close.
"Then don't," Gabi leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "It's Halloween, and an amazing party is at The Underground."
"James would never let me go," I sighed, and glanced around the café.
Over the past weeks, I'd noticed things James hadn't—the staff routines, the delivery schedules, the way the afternoon shift change created brief moments of chaos.
That's when I noticed something I hadn't before—Sofia behind the counter, and the staff exit partially visible from our table.
An employee pushed through it, carrying rubbish bags outside. "Unless..."
"Unless what?" Octavia's eyes widened, recognising the familiar glint in my expression.
"Unless we create a diversion." I kept my voice low, watching Sofia work.
"James expects me to text when I'm ready to leave.
Sofia could help us slip out the back while he's positioned out front.
He's been focused on the front entrance, constantly scanning the street.
He's positioned himself with a clear view of the café entrance but not the alley behind. "
"That's incredibly risky, Eve," Octavia warned. "If he catches you..."
"He won't. He's been working eighteen-hour days since the threats escalated. I've noticed the subtle signs—the way he rubs his temples, the extra cups of coffee, the slight delay in his responses. Even super-soldiers have limits."
Gabi nearly knocked over her coffee in excitement. "Oh my God, yes! This is the Eve we know and love!"
"Are you sure about this?" Octavia asked, but she was already reaching for her phone. "Because if you are, I'm calling a taxi right now."
My heart raced with equal parts guilt and exhilaration.
I knew I was playing with fire—James would be furious when he found out.
But after weeks of suffocating under his scrutiny and drowning in my secrets and fears, I needed this.
I needed one night where I wasn't Princess Evangeline, where I wasn't the girl with the dark past, where I wasn't constantly looking over my shoulder.
"Call the taxi," I said, pulling my hair into a messy bun. "Tell them to meet us at the back alley in five minutes."