3

Evangeline

Blood has a price, and tonight it was paid in full. Damian’s life for my freedom. The moment the truth hit, it felt like a blade twisted inside me. My lungs refused to work, grief crushing down like an iron vice.

“No,” I gasped, my voice raw and shaking. “No, no, no! They killed him because of me—because I was too selfish, too blind!”

Tears streamed uncontrollably, each drop heavier than the last. The guilt was unbearable, like drowning in chains I couldn’t shake off.

Alonzo’s hand caught my face, his touch fierce yet unbearably gentle. His eyes burned into mine.

“Evangeline, listen to me.” His voice cut through the chaos. “This is not your fault. Damian made his choice. His duty was to protect you, and he accepted the price. He knew what he was walking into.”

But I couldn’t stop the sobs tearing out of me, couldn’t stop whispering broken apologies into the void. Damian… forgive me. Please, forgive me.

“Evangeline!” Alonzo’s voice sharpened, urgent, desperate. “I need you to focus. Right now. They know where you are. Your father will not rest until you are dead. I can’t let that happen. We don’t have time.”

“I can’t leave you,” I choked out, wiping at my tears with trembling hands. “I can’t abandon you to him.”

“Your life comes first,” he snapped, every word a hammer against my resistance. “You’ll be given a new name, a new life, far away from here. It’s the only way you survive.”

“No—Alonzo—”

“Please.” His voice broke into a whisper, raw and human. “Please, Evangeline. You have to trust me. Live. That’s the only way I can keep you.”

God, I wanted to scream, to fight, to tell him I was carrying his child. That every breath inside me was no longer mine alone. But the words lodged in my throat like barbed wire, too dangerous to release. He couldn’t know—not now. Not when his own blood already demanded my death.

“Promise me,” I whispered, my heart clawing for hope. “Promise me you’ll stay alive. That I’ll see you again.”

His hand brushed my tears away, though more came to replace them. “I promise. When it’s safe, I’ll find you. No matter how far.”

A broken smile tugged at my lips. “Okay. I’ll go. For you.” And for our baby.

“Good.” His tone was steel now, resolute. “Now go. I’ll deal with your father.”

Deal with him. I knew exactly what that meant. Death would be the only language spoken when those two men met.

I turned, carrying Damian’s sacrifice and Alonzo’s promise like ghosts pressing against my ribs. My heart cracked with every step, knowing I might never see him again.

NOW | AGE 21 Giselle

Freedom didn’t feel like fireworks. It felt like chewing gum that’s lost its flavor—dull, tasteless, endless.

I strutted through the school entrance with my violin case slung over my shoulder, when Kara practically skipped into place beside me. Her blonde hair bounced like she had never once known defeat, which was ironic because I was usually the one left picking up the wreckage after her disasters.

“You don’t even know what I’m about to ask you,” she said, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“That’s exactly why I’m scared,” I replied flatly, already fishing through my bag.

Her grin widened. “Come on, Giselle . I need you to be my wingwoman tomorrow night.”

I groaned, finally tugging out my emergency stash—a Butterfinger—and tearing it open like it held the answers to life’s greatest questions. “Last time you made me your wingwoman, I almost needed therapy. I’m still haunted by Butt Plug Guy.”

Kara winced dramatically. “Okay, okay, fair. But this time is different!”

I bit into my candy bar with exaggerated relish. “That’s what you said last time.”

She pouted, lip quivering like a kicked puppy. “Giselle , please. This time it’s perfect. He’s tall, handsome, a law student, and—wait for it—a musician like you.”

I snorted, nearly choking on chocolate. “Wow. A tall law student who strums a guitar. My ovaries are quaking.”

Kara elbowed me. “Stop being so cynical! He could be your soulmate!”

“Or another freak with a magic bag of sex toys,” I shot back, licking chocolate off my thumb. “Let’s not forget your taste in men is… questionable.”

She laughed, swerving her sleek red car out of the lot once we slid inside. “Trust me, this time you’ll thank me.”

“Mm-hmm. If I survive, you owe me a twenty-pack of chocolate bars. King-size.”

“Deal,” she said, her grin too smug for my liking.

But when we turned down my street, the night shifted. Cars lined the block, flashing blue and red lights staining the pavement.

Kara leaned forward. “What the hell happened?”

My chest tightened as dread clawed its way up my throat. “I’ll walk from here,” I muttered, already unbuckling.

“Giselle —”

“I’m sure.” I forced a smile that didn’t touch my eyes. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She hugged me tight before I slipped out. The air reeked of smoke and something darker—familiar.

I tugged in my earbuds, but music couldn’t drown the truth clawing its way back into my mind. I wasn’t walking into an accident scene. I was walking back into the war I’d been running from.

And this time, I wouldn’t escape unscarred.