Chapter Three
673 Words
Evangeline’s heels clicked against the pavement as she walked away from the bar, her heart still hammering against her ribs. The night air was cool, but it did nothing to chase away the heat crawling up her spine. She had known this moment would come. Lucian was never the kind of man to let something—or someone—slip through his fingers. But knowing didn’t make it any less terrifying.
Her apartment wasn’t far, only a few blocks away, and with every step, she forced herself to breathe. Forced herself to focus on the present and not the past that had just come crashing back into her life with an intensity she wasn’t prepared for.
The streets were quieter than usual, the dim glow of streetlights casting elongated shadows that seemed to stretch toward her. She hugged her coat closer, trying to shake the lingering sensation of Lucian’s touch on her skin.
She had to leave. Again.
Her fingers curled into fists. She had built a life here, a small one, but it was hers. She had a job, a routine, a sense of normalcy she hadn’t thought possible. And now, with just one encounter, Lucian had threatened to rip it all away.
Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t hear the footsteps until it was too late.
A strong arm wrapped around her waist, yanking her back before she could react. A gasp escaped her lips as she was pulled into the shadows of a nearby alley, her back hitting a firm chest. Panic surged through her, her instincts screaming at her to fight, to run—
“Easy, angel.”
That voice. Deep, smooth, and far too familiar.
Lucian.
A sharp shiver ran down her spine, though whether it was fear or something far more dangerous, she couldn’t tell. “What the hell are you doing?” she hissed, struggling against his hold.
His grip loosened just enough for her to spin around, but he was still close, too close, his body caging hers against the brick wall. She glared up at him, her pulse erratic. “You don’t get to do this.”
Lucian tilted his head, his dark eyes unreadable in the dim light. “Do what?”
“Follow me,” she spat. “Corner me like some—”
“Some what?” His lips quirked in amusement. “A man who isn’t willing to let you slip through his fingers again?”
Evangeline’s breath hitched. “I am not yours.”
Lucian’s gaze darkened, his smirk fading. “You keep saying that,” he murmured, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from her face. “But tell me, angel… do you believe it?”
She opened her mouth, ready to spit out a response, but the words got caught in her throat when his fingers skimmed her cheek. It was infuriating how easily he affected her, how one simple touch could unravel her resolve.
“I don’t belong to you,” she whispered, her voice weaker than she wanted it to be.
Lucian leaned in, his breath fanning over her lips. “You’ve always belonged to me.”
A dangerous silence stretched between them, thick with tension. Evangeline’s hands curled into fists at her sides, desperate to push him away, but her body refused to move.
“Let me go,” she finally said, forcing steel into her voice.
Lucian studied her, his gaze searching hers for something. Then, after what felt like an eternity, he exhaled softly and stepped back.
The loss of his proximity left her feeling colder than she cared to admit.
“For now,” he murmured. “But don’t mistake my patience for mercy, angel.”
Evangeline swallowed hard, willing her legs to move. Without another word, she turned and walked away, every nerve in her body alert, waiting for him to pull her back again. But he didn’t.
He let her go.
But she knew—deep in her bones—that this wasn’t over.
Not even close.
- Writer
