Evan

Evan waited in the shadows, arms crossed as he leaned against the wall. He’d known she’d return late. Known exactly where she’d been.

And the look in her eyes told him—she wasn’t as certain as she wanted to be.

And he had known, the moment he saw the look in her eyes, that she wasn’t as certain as she wanted to be.

She didn’t acknowledge him as she walked past, but she wasn’t surprised to see him either.

She poured herself a drink, slow and deliberate.

Raised the glass—then stopped, staring through it like it might offer answers.

Evan’s eyes followed the curve of her wrist as she lifted, then set down the glass, the contents untouched.

She had always been graceful, but there was something different about her now—an edge of confidence sharpened by everything she had endured.

No one commanded his attention like she did. Or unnerved him without trying.

His fingers twitched at his side, a brief, reckless urge to close the distance between them, to feel the warmth of her skin beneath his hands.

But now wasn’t the time. Not when she was standing on the edge of a decision that would define her.

"You should have stayed away tonight," he said, following her inside.

"And why is that?" She asked wearily.

Evan didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he watched her.

The woman who had built herself into something formidable. The woman who had taken control of her own fate and refused to be a victim again.

But beneath all of that—beneath the ruthlessness, the sharp intelligence, the power—was something else.

Something he wasn’t sure she even saw in herself.

"You’ve already won, Cassandra," he said finally.

She scoffed, turning to face him. "Have I?"

Evan stepped closer, his voice quiet but firm. "You’ve orchestrated everything perfectly. House Norville is weak now. You don’t need to do anything else."

Her fingers tightened around her glass. "That’s not the point."

"Then what is?"

She didn’t answer.

Evan sighed, but it wasn’t frustration—it was restraint.

He wanted to reach for her, to ground her in something real, something that wasn’t tangled in the ghosts of her past.

But he couldn’t. Not yet.

Instead, he leaned against the table, keeping his hands to himself, even as his body ached to close the distance. "You’re standing at a crossroads—you just haven’t looked down."

She exhaled sharply. "Spare me the riddles, Evan."

He studied her for a moment longer, then spoke carefully. "You think this is just about revenge. That if you destroy Lorran and Brynda completely, it will be finished."

Her jaw tightened.

"But what happens after that?" he pressed. "What happens when there’s nothing left to fight against?"

She looked away.

Evan exhaled slowly. "You’re more than this, Cassandra. More than your revenge, more than the empire you’ve built through Voyox."

She let out a quiet laugh, but it didn’t hold any humor. "And what do you think I should do instead?"

Evan hesitated. Then, carefully, he said, "Leave."

She frowned. "What?"

"Go to Idellia," he continued. "I had planned that land for the next phase of your training anyway. It just so happened you were a faster learner than I anticipated, so I held off."

He took a step closer. "Give yourself the chance to figure out who you are beyond this."

Cassandra’s expression remained unreadable, but he saw the shift in her posture.

She had never considered walking away. Not truly.

But now he had put the idea in her head.

"Why do you care?" she asked quietly.

Evan exhaled, his voice softer now. "Because I don’t want you to make a choice you’ll regret for the rest of your life."

She studied him for a long moment.

If she looked at him any longer, he might lose what little control he had left.

He had spent months watching her transform, admiring her every move, but it was in these moments—when she was quiet, uncertain, human—that he felt the strongest pull toward her.

If she asked him to, he would give in. He would press her against the nearest surface, kiss her until she forgot her own doubts, until there was nothing left between them but heat and reckless desire.

But she wasn’t asking.

Then, finally, she said, "And if I go?"

His smirk returned, but it was smaller this time, almost thoughtful. "Then maybe, for once, you’ll get to decide something that isn’t built on vengeance."

The words settled between them, heavier than she wanted them to be.

She didn’t answer.

But Evan knew she was thinking about it.

And for now, that was enough.