CHAPTER 24: THE QUEEN CLAIMS HER WEAPON

(Evelina’s POV—Day of the Casino Event)

And just like that... The day arrived.

The Casino of Shadows. My death flag. My turning point. My chance to rewrite fate.

I stood in front of the mirror, fastening the last clasp of my dress—a deep, sinful red. Backless. A high slit running up my thigh. Red heels sharp enough to stab a man if needed.

And beneath the silk?

A weapon strapped to my thigh—cold metal against warm skin. I turned slowly, examining the reflection. Red lips. Sleek hair. A body that could destroy a heart by existing.

I raised my chin—and froze when I caught my own expression.

I was smirking.

Like danger.

Like power.

Like a woman who knew exactly what she was doing.

"...Wait, why am I smirking at myself?" I muttered.

A dry laugh escaped me. "God. I’m getting used to this body."

Too used to it.

This body wasn’t born to me. This face wasn’t my face. This beauty wasn’t mine. But today... I would use every single advantage it gave me.

I tore my gaze from the mirror and stepped away.

Because tonight isn’t about vanity.

Tonight is survival.

Victory.

Freedom.

If I complete this quest—if I earn the right to choose my own route —First thing I’m doing? Moving the hell out of this house.

I don’t need the Hartgrave name.

I don’t need their politics.

I don’t need their backstabbing affection.

And I definitely don’t need to live every day wondering who will poison me next. I grabbed my clutch, checked the hidden knife inside, and walked toward the door.

My heartbeat was steady.

My breathing is controlled.

I wasn’t walking into a party. I was walking into a battlefield wearing a dress. With a gun on my thigh and a plan in my head.

The hallway was silent—too silent—until footsteps emerged from the shadows.

Rowan.

Dressed in a black suit—sharp, lethal, fitted like a weapon—Rowan stood there with his hair slicked back just enough to reveal the cut of his jaw. His eyes were cold and unreadable, the kind that measured storms before they broke.

No one with functioning vision would mistake him for a guest. He looked like the danger of the night, arriving before the night even began.

His gaze swept over me once—head to toe—not with a man’s admiration, but a bodyguard’s assessment. Calculating. Clinical. Stripping me of every secret without ever touching me.

"Miss... Are you carrying a weapon?" he asked.

I froze, narrowed my eyes, and scanned him right back. "How do you even know that? Do you have lasers in your eyes or something?"

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t twitch. Didn’t blink. Expressionless, he replied, "You’re just very predictable."

. . .

. . .

"...Should I take that as a compliment, Rowan?"

"If you wish, you can," he said flatly.

The audacity. The calmness. The way he stood there like an immovable mountain. I stepped closer—heels clicking sharply against marble—until the air between us hummed.

He was infuriatingly tall. And I hated— HATED—that I had to lift my chin to look him in the eyes.

"I don’t want to look up at you," I said, voice icy-smooth. "My neck hurts."

He blinked once. Then Rowan lowered himself to one knee—one leg down, one fist over his heart—gaze lifted to meet mine perfectly. Like a knight before his master or a wolf submitting only to the one he chose.

"Is this height acceptable, Miss?" he asked without an ounce of mockery.

The hallway froze around us.

Yes. This is exactly what I wanted.

A lethal man—feared by everyone—kneeling only for me.

My lips curved slowly, savoring the sight like a victory won without raising a sword. "Of course... this is very, very good enough, Rowan."

I stepped closer—unhurried, predatory—until the slit of my dress brushed against his knee. Then I bent slightly, lowering myself just enough so my fingers could slide along the line of his jaw.

His skin was warm.His posture didn’t break.

My voice dropped—silk over razor blades.

"I will only say it once, Rowan," I whispered, words slow and poisonously sweet. "I don’t lure people with honey. I don’t win loyalty with pretty promises."

My fingers traced the angle of his jaw, lingering there like a threat disguised as affection.

"I hired you because you are the best weapon I could find."

His eyes darkened—not offended, not hurt—accepting the truth.

I leaned closer, lips barely above his ear. "So always remember your place. You’re mine to command. Mine to use. Mine to point at whatever tries to kill me."

I pulled back, still smirking.

"You are my weapon, Rowan Arcturus. And I expect you to cut."

He didn’t flinch.Didn’t look away.Didn’t deny it.

Instead, he lifted his head slightly, kneeling even deeper, like submitting not out of weakness but out of oath.

"As long as you choose me," he murmured, voice low and unwavering, "I will cut for you."

I smirked.

Perfect.

Keeping him in place isn’t just important—it’s essential. Control over Rowan isn’t something I want.It’s something I claim.

From my purse, I pulled out the brooch—golden yellow, the exact shade of my eyes. It caught the light like a warning, like a brand.

"This pin..." I said slowly, dragging every syllable as I smoothed the fabric over his chest, right above his heartbeat, "is proof that you belong to me. And you will not forget your place, Rowan... no matter who tries to take you."

His gaze flickered—the smallest movement, but enough to betray recognition of the threat behind my words.

He lowered his head slightly. Obedient. Tense.

"As long as you need me... As long as you pay me well... I will belong to you, Miss."

His voice was an oath wrapped in a growl—steady, dangerous, and devoted.

I leaned in, letting my breath brush the edge of his ear.I didn’t whisper.I commanded softly.

"Oh... I intend to keep you well," I murmured, my fingers brushing his jaw. "And very, very close."

He stayed perfectly still.Perfectly kneeling.Perfectly mine.

But the way his jaw tightened—that tiny clench—told me he understood:

There would be no escape.No betrayal.No shifting of loyalties.

Because in this world, the heroine—Sera—is a walking magnet. She attracts every male lead, every destiny, and every route like she’s made of gravity.

She steals fates.She steals futures.She steals men without trying.

And I refuse—absolutely refuse—to let her steal him.

Rowan is not a choice. He is my survival.

My shield.My weapon.My one unstoppable force in a story designed to kill me.

So I won’t share him. I won’t lose him. I won’t let him slip into anyone else’s orbit.

Not Sera’s.Not fate’s.Not anyone’s.

I tilted his chin up with a single finger, forcing his eyes to meet mine. For a moment, we weren’t mistress and bodyguard.

We were predator and possession.

Possessor and possessed.

"Rowan," I said slowly—savoring his name. "Stay close to me tonight. Too much is going to happen tonight."

Not a request.Not an invitation.

A command.

A command that could crush bone if ignored.

His breath stirred, barely audible, as he murmured, "...Yes, Miss."

And the way he said it?

It wasn’t obedience.It was surrender.

A soft chime blinked beside him.

[ROWAN ARCTURUS—11%]

Eleven. From two to eleven... all because he knelt—and chose me.

Perfect.

I straightened, the echo of power still humming warm beneath my skin. My heels clicked once against the marble—sharp, decisive—and I turned away from him.

Without looking back, I said, "Stand up, Rowan. We’re leaving."

He rose instantly—silent, tall, lethal—and fell into step behind me like a shadow sharpened into a weapon.

I didn’t need to check if he followed. He would. Because now he belonged to my side.

I headed toward the grand staircase, each step slow, proud — my dress trailing like a crimson warning. Rowan followed at my back, eyes scanning every corner, every movement, every breath around me.

I paused only once — at the end of the hall — the mansion stretched before me like a gilded cage waiting to lose its prisoner.

But tonight—the casino wasn’t just an event.

It was the place where I would finally change the route of this story. Where I would claim the power to choose my own ending. Where I would earn the right to walk out of this house on my terms, not theirs.

No more scripted tragedies. No more being killed for someone else’s happy ending.

My heels clicked. Rowan followed soundlessly.

We stepped out the door. And we were on our way to Casino One —the place where everything would change.