I should have felt triumphant.

Lorran had all but admitted he regretted losing me. Brynda’s influence was slipping. Her reputation was starting to show cracks. And my latest move against their finances would only deepen those fractures.

But as I sat in the dim glow of my cottage, staring at the candlelight flickering over my untouched glass of wine, I felt something far more dangerous than satisfaction.

I felt doubt.

Lorran had been weak. He had been foolish. And yet, I knew better than anyone that he had been a target. Brynda had pursued him knowing he belonged to me, knowing that his loyalty had been unwavering—until she shattered it.

He had betrayed me. But had he ever stood a chance?

I hated that the question had lodged itself in my mind, that I couldn’t simply dismiss it the way I had before. I hated that I still remembered him as the boy who once swore to protect me from everything.

A memory surfaced, unbidden.

We had been children, no older than ten, playing along the riverbank outside the city. The spring rains had made the water run high and fast, and I had slipped on the wet rocks, tumbling forward before I could catch myself.

Lorran had grabbed my wrist before I could fall, yanking me back so hard we both crashed onto the muddy ground.

I had scraped my knee, and the shock of nearly falling into the rushing current had stolen my breath.

But he had looked at me—his face pale, eyes wide with fear—and said, “I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

And for years, I had believed him.

Now, I was the one pulling him into dangerous waters.

I squeezed my eyes shut, the frustration simmering beneath my skin.

Lorran had still made his choice. He had still chosen her over me. No memory, no long-buried fondness could erase that.

But when he finally lost everything, would it truly be justice? Or would it just be another cruelty?

The sound of approaching hooves pulled me from my thoughts.

I didn’t rise immediately. I had spent over a week waiting for this, and now that the moment had arrived, I felt no rush to meet it.

Instead of barging in without knocking like he usually did, he stood outside the door as if he hadn’t quite decided to see me.

When the knock finally came, I took my time answering the door.

Evan stood in front of me, silent. His face was shadowed beneath the moonlight, his usual smirk absent.

He looked at me as if searching for something—an expectation, a reaction, something I refused to give him.

I leaned against the doorway. "You’re late."

His lips curved slightly upward, but there was no real humor in it. "I wasn’t aware we had a schedule."

I stepped aside without another word, letting him enter.

The tension between us was palpable.

He removed his coat, draping it over the chair before turning to face me. For a long moment, neither of us spoke.

Then, finally, I broke the silence.

"You left," I said, my voice steady, but edged with something unreadable.

Evan exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. "I did."

I waited. When he didn’t continue, irritation prickled at the edges of my patience. "And you weren’t going to explain why?"

He tilted his head slightly. "Would it change anything?"

The words set something off inside me. The frustration, the lingering confusion, the weight of everything unspoken between us—I refused to let it sit untouched.

"You kissed me." My voice was quiet but edged. "And then you disappeared."

His jaw tightened. "I had my reasons."

"Then say them," I challenged.

His gaze darkened, his composure slipping just enough for me to see the truth beneath it.

For the first time, Evan wasn’t in control.

The realization sent a shiver through me, though I refused to let it show.

He let out a slow breath, stepping closer. "I didn’t leave because of you."

I scoffed. "No?"

He met my gaze, unflinching. "I left because I knew if I stayed, I wouldn’t stop."

The admission struck like a match against dry tinder, sending heat through the air between us.

I swallowed, my pulse betraying me. "And that would be so terrible?"

Evan’s smirk returned, but it was different this time—not amusement, but something far more dangerous. "I don’t make mistakes, Cassandra."

I lifted my chin, refusing to back down. "Then what was it?"

He didn’t answer right away.

Instead, he reached for the bottle of wine on my table, pouring himself a glass with slow, deliberate movements.

He swirled the liquid before finally speaking. "An indulgence."

I inhaled sharply, something sharp slicing through me.

So that was how he wanted to play this.

I took a step forward, closing the distance just enough to unsettle him.

"Funny," I murmured. "For someone so careful, you let it happen awfully fast."

His fingers tightened slightly around his glass, but he didn’t break.

Neither did I.

For a long moment, we stood there, tension crackling between us like a brewing storm.

Then, finally, he took a slow sip of wine, setting the glass down with quiet finality. "Tell me," he said, his voice a shade too calm. "How does it feel, knowing Lorran still thinks of you?"

My stomach twisted. I should have known he would find out. Evan knew everything.

I didn’t flinch. "It doesn’t matter."

It was his turn to scoff. "Doesn’t it?"

I narrowed my eyes. "What are you getting at?"

Evan took another step closer, his gaze sharp, assessing. "You’re hesitating."

I stiffened, but he continued before I could respond.

"You’ve done everything right," he said, voice low. "Your plans are flawless. Your influence is undeniable. And yet, when it comes to truly destroying him—you hesitate."

I hated that he saw it.

Hated that he was right.

I lifted my chin. "If I were hesitating, I wouldn’t be here."

Evan tilted his head slightly, watching me in that way that made it impossible to tell what he was thinking.

Then, finally, he exhaled, shaking his head with a quiet chuckle.

"You’re more dangerous than I thought," he murmured.

"Good," I said. "You should be afraid."

He awarded me with a chuckle, but there was something else beneath it—something sensual and alive.

"Afraid?" He took another sip of wine. "No, Cassandra. I think I’m enjoying the show."

I rolled my eyes, snatching the glass from his hand before he could finish it. "Get out."

He laughed, low and knowing, but he obeyed.

As he reached the door, he paused. "Try not to overthink things," he said, amusement lacing his tone. "It doesn’t suit you."

I didn’t dignify him with a response.

The door closed behind him, leaving me alone with the remnants of our conversation.

Alone with the memories I wished I could forget.