Chapter 30

Logan

I wasn’t looking for her.

I told myself that again as I pushed through the tavern’s doors, the scent of sweat, ale, and smoke choking the air.

This wasn’t about Evelyn. I just happened to be in the area. It didn’t matter that I had been told that she had been spotted heading into town in the direction of the tavern. I just needed a walk. Just needed—

The lie crumbled the moment I saw her.

She was slouched in a corner booth, an empty glass in front of her, another half-finished one in her hand. Her hair was slightly mussed, her cheeks flushed from drink, her eyes glassy and too bright.

I knew that look. Knew it from patrol nights gone wrong and full moons that brought too much chaos. Like my soldiers after a battle won, she was utterly drunk.

But she didn’t look wild or boisterous. She looked broken. Or maybe like she was trying very hard not to be.

And I hated that I wasn’t the one she’d come to.

But of course she wouldn’t have sought me out. Why would she even think to? For days, I had been giving her space, trying to make sure she had time to sort through her thoughts. I wasn’t sure what to say, so I hadn’t said anything at all.

I lingered near the back wall, half-hidden by a pillar. I watched her talk to a man, briefly repressing a growl when he leaned in closely. Not long after he had arrived, though, she was standing up to go, stumbling hastily toward the door as she fled the man.

Good girl, I thought, watching her go. Surely she was heading back to safety.

But then I saw him stand too, eyes fixed on her retreating form.

He was broad-shouldered, too sure of himself. I saw the way he looked at her. I saw the way he waited a beat before slipping out after her, like he’d done this all before.

I took complete stock of him then, assessing the kind of threat he might pose. I didn’t recognize him. He must have been one of the locals.

Something primal surged up in me as I watched him begin to make his way through the crowd as well, following her out.

By the time I made it outside, too, they were both gone.

I caught her scent down the alley, fast-fading behind the thick stench of beer and sweat and—

Fear.

It was faint, but it was hers.

And that’s when I heard her voice.

“No,” she snapped, sharp but shaky. “Let me go.”

I rounded the corner and froze.

He had her pinned.

One hand pressed against the brick beside her head, the other curled around her arm. Her body was pressed hard to the wall, her face twisted in discomfort. She looked terrified. She seemed helpless.

Something in me snapped.

I didn’t remember growling or crossing the space. I barely remembered slamming him back into the opposite wall, the sickening crack of his shoulder dislocating under my grip.

I only truly remembered the way Evelyn’s breath hitched when she saw me.

“Get out of here,” I snarled at the man. “If I see you again, I’ll rip your throat out. That’s a promise.”

“I don’t… Look, man, it’s not what it looks like. We were just having some fun.”

“I heard her say no,” I growled. “I’m assuming your ears work well enough that you did too.”

“It’s not like—”

“I’ve heard enough from you,” I said through gritted teeth. “Get out of here. Now.”

The man was still wide-eyed as he hurried away, grumbling about his hurt shoulder and teasing women.

I turned to her. “Evelyn.”

She blinked, still caught between fury and fear, breath uneven.

“Are you okay?” I asked, already shrugging off my coat to wrap around her trembling shoulders.

She didn’t answer.

Her eyes searched my face, not with recognition, but with confusion. And then something shifted, her expression cracking like thin ice. She let out a small, broken sound. Not quite a word. Not quite a sob.

And then she whispered, “He always does this.”

I stilled. “Evelyn?”

“He always comes back when I finally stop hoping,” she slurred, her voice muffled as she pressed her face against my chest. “He leaves me, and then comes back like nothing happened.”

What?

She clutched my shirt like it grounded her, breath hitching again. “I gave him everything. My heart, my soul. I let him in. I trusted him.”

My stomach turned.

“I thought he loved me,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I thought I mattered.”

Each word sliced through me, too raw, too honest, too familiar.

Was she talking about me, though?

The way her voice shook, the way her hands fisted in my shirt… it felt deeply personal.

She blinked slowly, disoriented. “He… he left me behind.”

I swallowed hard, my hands hovering at her waist, unsure if I was supposed to pull her closer or let her go. “Evelyn… who are you talking to?”

She didn’t answer. Her eyes fluttered closed for a second, then opened again, swimming with tears. “He said he’d always protect me,” she mumbled. “But he never did. Not really.”

She looked so young then. So lost.

“Who?” I asked quietly, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

She blinked again, her lashes wet. “Alex. Why are you asking—” Her mouth moved, but it took her a second to form the words. “Alex... I loved him so much. But...”

The breath caught in my lungs.

Alex, the Prince, that's she is talking to. Their love, it seemed, was deeper, more painful in its own way. That bond, that history… how had I not seen it before? Her heart was already taken.

I opened my mouth to ask more, but then she swayed.

I caught her before she fell, her body limp against mine.

She was out cold.

Her breath was warm against my collarbone, slow and shallow. Her arms hung loosely at her sides, the coat I’d wrapped around her slipping from her shoulders.

I stood there in the alley, holding her like she might shatter.

My mind was a storm.

She’d given her heart and soul to someone else. But was it just the prince she had been talking about a second ago? Or was I tangled somewhere in those words, too, lost in her drunken rambling?

I wanted to believe it was me as well. Wanted to believe she felt something. But I’d been wrong before. And now wasn’t the time to ask. Not that I could have asked her just then, anyway.

So I gathered her into my arms.

The alley around us was quiet again, the man who’d touched her long gone. But his scent lingered, and I made a silent promise to find him later. When she was safe. When she was awake.

As I carried her toward the camp, her head resting against my shoulder, I felt the quiet weight of her words settle in my chest like ash.

And I didn’t know what hurt more: wondering if she’d meant most of those words for me… or knowing that deep down, they might have been for someone else.