Eveline Resident Evil 7 Novels & Stories

“I’ll call you once I’m off.” I nodded and turned to walk away. “Do you mind if I walk you down? Just until you get a cab,” the guy asked behind me. “If you want to,” I said, not bothering to look back. We walked down the quiet street together. The city felt different at night still and quiet. “I’m Ian,” he said. “I’m Evelyn. But everyone calls me Eve,” I answered flatly. “Nice. You’re new around here?” “Obviously,” I muttered, not wanting to give too much information.

The final frame hung in frozen grayscale: Eirwen looking straight into the lens, defiant. In the reflection of the glass, another face hovered — one no screen had captured. Lucianus Laev. “You’re playing with ghosts,” Vigil warned. Domenik smiled faintly. “Then let them watch.” The Marked Invitation The motel room smelled like rust and motel soap.

I actually laughed out loud at his hypocrisy. “A father like you is worse than no father at all,” I shot back, my voice dripping with scorn. “You wouldn’t spare a single life-saving herb for your own son. What right do you have to even speak his name?” I hung up and blocked his new number. Just then, Sarah strode in, her heels clicking on the floor. She held a thick file, her face lit with the thrill of the hunt. “Eileen, I’ve got something explosive,” she said, slapping the file on the table. “I used the Council’s intelligence network to dig into Chloe. And guess what? She was never abused!”

The email’s subject line burned into Evie’s screen like a brand: “The Truth About Evelyn Voss—She’s No Widow.” Evie sat frozen in the Voss Mansion’s study, the afternoon light streaming through tall windows, casting long shadows across the desk where her tablet rested. The video conference feed, filled with the stern faces of board members scattered across the globe, suddenly crackled with tension as the anonymous message landed in every inbox like a digital bomb.

No security entourage. This part she needed to see herself. Inside, the hallway smelled faintly of detergent and aging paint. She climbed two flights of stairs and stopped before apartment 3B. Daniel Reyes. She knocked. No answer. She knocked again. A door down the hall opened slightly, and an elderly woman peered out. “You looking for Danny?” the woman asked. Evelyn turned. “Yes.” The woman shook her head slowly. “You’re late.” A chill moved through Evelyn. “What do you mean?”

Her eyes widened. “W-What’s that?” She asked, feigning innocence. Valor’s eyes narrowed as he crumpled his fist. He felt his breathing slowly leaving his lungs as tears formed in the corner of his eyes, which he wiped angrily. The woman removed the cover of her hair, revealing her long, silky black hair. Olive observed her again. Her eyes were black, but no, again, Ashriel was dead. Olive knew the explosion was massive, and no person, not even Ashriel, could escape that.

The terrible attitude she had to put up with every day, especially from the manager-- Mark. She could never forget that one. He was the one who drugged her that night to offer to his client but somehow... Somehow she ended up with Lucas. Evelyn felt uneasy just staring at the building again. The bright lights were almost blinding and the voice of the people laughing outside was irking her. She had come here for her earrings and she wasn't leaving without it. Since Evelyn had worked here for a while, she knew the ins and outs of the Casino; the secret passage that was used in case of emergency to evacuate customers. There was hardly ever any guard there so it would be easy to sneak in.

She was too weak to protest, too dizzy to resist. Julian helped her out of the club and into a waiting black car. Inside, Evelyn slumped against the seat, her eyes barely open. “You’ll be fine...” Julian whispered, a sly smile curling at the edge of his lips. --- The hotel room was warm, too fragrant, and eerily quiet. In the corner of the ceiling, a small red light blinked from a hidden camera—silent but deadly. Julian locked the door and placed a small bag on the table. He looked at Evelyn, now half-lying on the bed, her eyes slightly open.

HIS TOUCH, HER FIRE🔥 Chapter Seven — “The Devil You Know” The sirens came too late. Evelyn stood in the yard barefoot, jaw locked, blood on her palms from shattered glass. Her ears still rang. Her boots lay discarded by the porch steps, and her heart hadn’t slowed since the shots were fired. Damien stood beside her, phone pressed to his ear, voice clipped and low as he barked instructions to someone on the other end. His jaw was tight, his shirt streaked with ash and sweat, and his eyes scanned the darkness like it might strike again.