Evangeline

Chapter 8. Guard Down

The heavy plastic handle of the cleaning caddy cut into Mia's raw palm as she trudged down the narrow, dimly lit service staircase. It had taken nearly the entire day to meticulously clean all seven of the Crowe brothers' rooms- navigating Blake's ocean of trash, scrubbing Luke's grease-stained kitchenette, avoiding Malachi's cursed trinkets, breathing in Richie's sterile dust, escaping Dominic's silk trap, and surviving the chilling atmospheres of Kane's and August's quarters. Her legs felt like lead, and her stomach let out a hollow, agonizing growl. She hadn't eaten a single bite since five o'clock that morning.

​Following the tiny, etched crow wings near the baseboards, Mia made her way toward the mansion's ground-level service corridor, heading for the kitchen to finally grab a small plate of food for herself. She kept her head down, her mind a frantic swirl of exhaustion, her bright blue eyes focused entirely on the pristine white tiles rushing beneath her sneakers.

​Suddenly, a heavy, dark boot stepped directly into her field of vision.

​Mia gasped, halting so fast the cleaning supplies in her caddy rattled violently. She stumbled backward, her gaze traveling up a dark tactical uniform until it landed on a rugged, heavy-set face. It was one of the estate's private security guards.

​The guard didn't move. He stood in the center of the narrow hallway, his eyes wide as he stared down at Mia. He took in her striking, ink-black hair, her porcelain-doll face, and the vibrant, terrified blue of her eyes. A dark, predatory grin slowly spread across his face, his eyes gleaming with an sudden, intense infatuation.

​"Well, well. I heard the bosses brought in a new little stray," the guard murmured, his voice low and raspy as he stepped closer, entirely blocking the corridor. "They weren't lying about you. You're the prettiest damn thing I've ever seen in this house."

​"P-Please, excuse me, sir," Mia whispered automatically, her inherent kindness and humble nature guiding her words even through a sudden spike of panic. She tried to step to the right to pass him. "I am just trying to get to the kitchen to have some lunch."

​The guard threw out a thick, gloved hand, catching her firmly by the upper arm. His grip was bruising, his fingers digging deep into her delicate skin. "The kitchen can wait, sweetheart. Why don't you come with me down to the lower security sub-station? It's quiet down there. No one will disturb us. We can have a little fun."

​"No! Please, let go of me!" Mia cried out, her voice cracking with terror as she thrashed against his grip, trying to pull her arm free. The caddy slipped from her fingers, crashing to the floor and spilling spray bottles and microfiber cloths across the tiles.

​"Hey! Let her go right now!"

​A sharp, authoritative voice echoed down the hall. Sheila walked briskly around the corner, carrying a basket of fresh linens. The older woman's face was hard, her eyes flashing with a fierce, protective anger as she stepped between the guard and Mia.

​"You know the rules, Henderson!" Sheila snapped, glaring at the guard. "You are completely forbidden from interacting with the household maids. You have absolutely zero authority over us. Unhand her this instant!"

​The guard's face contorted into an ugly, furious sneer. He didn't let go of Mia; instead, he violently jerked her backward, pulling her closer to his side as he glared at the older woman. "Shut your wrinkled mouth, old woman! I don't take orders from a glorified scrub lady. I do what I want with the house trash, and this one is coming with me. Move, or I'll throw you down the stairs myself!"

​"Am I interrupting something?"

​The voice was a sheet of absolute ice. It cut through the humid air of the service corridor like a guillotine, instantly freezing the breath in Mia's lungs.

​From the intersecting hallway, Master August Crowe stepped into view. He had discarded his suit jacket, now wearing only his crisp white button-down shirt and a tailored black vest, his hands resting casually in his pants pockets. His dark hair was perfect, and his striking blue eyes were completely dead, holding a terrifyingly calm, clinical fury as he looked at the scene before him.

​The guard, Henderson, went utterly rigid. The sneer instantly vanished from his face, replaced by a sudden, pale wash of sheer terror. "A-August! Sir, I-"

​August didn't say a single word. He didn't yell. He didn't even take his left hand out of his pocket.

​With an agonizingly smooth, lightning-fast motion, August pulled a sleek, silver handgun from his inner shoulder holster with his right hand, pointed it downward, and pulled the trigger.

​BANG!

​The deafening roar of the gunshot shattered the quiet of the enclosed corridor.

​The guard let out a blood-curdling shriek of agony, immediately releasing Mia as he collapsed to the floor, clutching his right foot. Blood instantly began to bloom through the heavy leather of his boot, pooling onto the white tiled floor. He writhed in pain, his face twisted in a mask of pure suffering.

​August slowly lowered the smoking barrel of the gun, his perfect handsome face completely unbothered, his expression as calm as if he had just stepped on a bug. He looked down at the screaming man, his voice a low, lethal purr.

​"You touch what is mine again, Henderson, and the next bullet will be placed between your eyes," August said softly. "You are hired muscle. You are an employee. The maids are an extension of this household's property, and you are explicitly ordered to ignore their existence. You went entirely out of line."

​"I'm sorry, August! I'm sorry, sir! Please-" the guard wailed, rocking back and forth on the bloody tiles.

​"Get him out of my sight and clean up this mess," August commanded smoothly, looking past the guard to two other security men who had just rushed around the corner at the sound of gunfire. The two guards nodded frantically, grabbing their bleeding comrade by his shoulders and dragging him away, leaving a thick smear of crimson on the floor.

​August slowly holstered his weapon, adjusting his silver cuffs. He turned his piercing, ice-blue eyes onto Mia.

​Mia was trembling violently, her back pressed hard against the concrete wall, her hands clamped over her ears as tears of pure, unadulterated panic streamed down her face. Her breathing was shallow and frantic. She looked at August, her mind completely fractured by the sudden violence, her humble nature forcing her to take the blame for the chaos.

​"I-I am so sorry, Master August," Mia choked out, her voice a broken, delicate whisper as she bowed her head deeply. "I am so sorry for... for causing trouble again. For having you save me from a... from another act. I didn't mean to delay the schedule."

​August looked down at her, a low, irritated puff of air escaping his perfect lips as he checked his platinum watch. He looked at her disheveled hair, her tear-stained porcelain cheeks, and the spilled cleaning supplies at her feet.

​"Do not apologize for a guard trying to take advantage of you, Mia," August said, his tone carrying the immense, untouchable weight of his ego. "Apologize that you were weak enough to be caught in it in the first place."

​Mia flinched slightly, keeping her eyes fixed on his polished shoes.

​"Keep that humble, submissive attitude for myself and my brothers," August commanded smoothly, stepping closer to her, his aura suffocatingly massive. "We are the only ones who command you. If one of my men crosses the line with you again, smack him around for all I care. Use a broom. Use a pipe. You are an asset of the Crowe household, and I will not have my staff thinking they can disrupt my efficiency by chasing after a pretty face. Do not let this happen again."

​"I understand, Master August," Mia whispered, her lower lip trembling. "I won't let it happen again."

​August gave her one final, lingering glance before turning on his heel. He strolled away down the corridor, his long, deliberate steps entirely unhurried, leaving her alone with Sheila.

​The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the distant hum of the mansion's ventilation. Sheila let out a long, ragged breath, immediately kneeling down to help Mia gather the scattered bottles and cloths back into the caddy.

​"Are you alright, child?" Sheila asked softly, her hands steady as she wiped a drop of stray cleaner from a cloth.

​"I... I am okay," Mia whispered, her heart still beating a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She wiped her face with the back of her hand, forcing a small, incredibly brave smile for the older woman. "Thank you, Sheila. For speaking up for me."

​"Of course. But Master August is right about one thing- you have to show some teeth to the guards, Mia. They will mistake your sweetness for weakness," Sheila warned gently, patting her arm. "Go on now. Go to the kitchen. You've worked a full twelve hours cleaning those rooms. You need to eat."

​"Yes, Sheila."

​Mia picked up her caddy, her limbs still shaking with a residual panic, and walked the remaining length of the corridor. When she finally pushed open the swinging double doors into the massive, high-end commercial kitchen, the space was empty and quiet. The chefs had already cleared out for the afternoon.

​Mia set her caddy by the door and sank onto a small metal stool near the prep station. She reached for a simple piece of bread and a small bowl of soup that had been left covered on the counter. As she ate her late breakfast and lunch combined into one, staring blankly at the polished stainless steel walls, the tears finally began to flow freely. She was safe for the moment, but the sheer, unpredictable violence of the palace she was trapped in made her realize that every single breath she took in this house was entirely at the mercy of the Crowe brothers.