CHAPTER 47: TOO LATE FOR MERCY

(Evelina’s POV—Outside the Police Station)

The cold night air hit my skin the moment we stepped out of the station—cleaner, sharper, and blessedly free of the stench of sweat and incompetence inside.

I exhaled slowly.

Theo, unfortunately, did not.

He stayed glued to my side like a problematic shadow with expensive cologne.

His hand still lingered around my waist—the audacity—while I shot him sideways daggers sharp enough to carve his name into his own tombstone.

We stopped at the bottom of the steps. The station doors closed behind us with a soft click, sealing the chaos inside.

Theo turned toward me, looking far too pleased with himself.

I crossed my arms, saying, "Let’s talk."

Theo raised a brow at me, a wicked tilt to his mouth.

"Oh?" he drawled softly. "Here? Or do you want somewhere more private, baby?"

I glared daggers sharp enough to perform open-heart surgery.

"Since when," I hissed, "did I become your baby?"

Theo didn’t blink.

Didn’t falter.

He just dipped his head slightly, eyes gleaming like a wolf who’d already bitten into the prey.

"Since the day," he said with infuriating calm, "I decided you’d be mine."

. . .

. . .

Excuse me?

THIS BASTARD.

I opened my mouth—ready to unleash a verbal guillotine—but "Eve!"

A voice cut through the air.

I turned.

Lucien, Arden, and Father stood in front of the station steps, faces widened with shock, worry, and—on two of them—an irritating hint of guilt.

Lucien rushed forward first, gently taking my hands.

"Eve," he breathed, eyes scanning me, "are you alright?"

"...I’m alright," I answered.

Relief washed over his face instantly. He even smiled.

"I knew it," he whispered. "I knew you didn’t do anything."

A soft warmth flickered in my chest. Lucien was the only one in that house who believed in me—even when it was inconvenient.

But the other two?

The so-called father and brother

?

Just seeing their faces made my blood simmer.

Father stepped closer, voice trembling with forced softness. "Eve... dear, I’m so glad you’re okay. From here we will handle everything. Come home with us—"

"WHY," I snapped, voice slicing the air, "SHOULD I LISTEN TO YOU?"

He flinched.

I met his eyes—cold, sharp, and unflinching. That guilt on his face? Worthless. Late. Pathetic.

Arden, however, stepped forward, jaw tight.

"Evelina," he hissed, "this is not the place to speak to Father like that. There are reporters outside the gate. Come home and we can talk—"

I cut him off with a scoff that could freeze oceans.

"You really piss me off... brother."

Arden stiffened, fists clenching. "What?"

"Oh, don’t act confused," I said, taking a single step closer, my voice velvet-wrapped venom. "When I needed you—when I was dragged, humiliated, and accused—you turned your back on me. You judged me based on my past. You sided with the man who wanted me destroyed."

He clenched his jaw. "You don’t understand—"

"No," I shot back. "You don’t understand. Why should I worry about your reputation when you didn’t give a damn about sending a competent attorney to help me in time?"

His face twisted.

"You—!!!" he snapped, then exhaled sharply when his eyes flicked to Theo, as if realizing the dangerous ground he was stepping on. "We know we made mistakes, but what could we do? Your past actions—"

"Ah," I said softly, mockingly. "The damn past actions again. Blaming me these days is pretty easy, isn’t it?"

He froze.

"Do you know what you’re saying? We didn’t know Kael was pretending. We didn’t know he was playing a big wicked game behind the scene."

"You could’ve hired a private investigator," I said, voice low and lethal. "You could’ve looked for the truth instead of swallowing lies like obedient pets. But instead you ran here today pretending you care about me..."

I smiled—cold, sharp, and unforgiving.

"...when all you care about is your damn reputation."

Father flinched. His voice cracked.

"My dear... We were wrong. We should have believed you. Please... give us one more chance. We can—"

"NO"

He flinched again.

"Just like I said before..." My voice was a chilling whisper. "You’re too late. There’s no mercy in my dictionary now."

Silence struck them like a slap.

I turned slightly and reached for Theo’s hand.

He took it instantly—of course he did—his thumb brushing possessively over my skin as if he had been waiting his entire life for permission.

"We have things to handle," I said, not sparing Arden or Father another glance. "Excuse us."

But Lucien grabbed my wrist gently.

"Eve... are you coming back?" he asked softly, voice trembling with worry—not reputation. Not fear. Genuine worry.

I met his eyes.

And for Lucien alone, my tone softened.

"I’ll text you," I said.

He nodded, relief washing over him. Then I turned away. Walked past the three of them. Never once looking back at the people who cared more about appearances than me.

Why should I?

I have the two strongest men in this entire damn city on my side now.

Theo Vinter—a wolf who would burn the world for me.

And Rowan—a blade who would cut down anyone who dares to touch me.

I don’t give a damn about anyone else.

They are enough.

And with them...I will end this game.

***

(Moments Later—Inside Theo’s Car)

Theo opened the door for me like a gentleman.

A dangerous gentleman.

The kind whose courtesy felt like a blade wrapped in silk. The moment I slid inside, the door shut behind me with a soft, expensive thunk—a sound that neatly cut me off from the rest of the world.

Silence washed over the car.

Dense.

Electric.

Too intimate for my liking.

Theo slid in beside me, the leather shifting under his weight. He didn’t bother to hide the smirk tugging at his lips.

"Now?" he asked, voice dripping amusement.

I turned to him with a flat look. "Now, we go to the warehouse. Rowan should’ve completed the second part of the plan."

His smirk sharpened. He glanced at the driver.

"Drive."

The engine hummed to life, and we pulled into the night. Theo draped one arm over the backrest, deliberately nudging into my space.

"So," he asked casually, "you’ve decided? Are you actually going to kill Kael Valtore this time?"

I scoffed lightly and looked out the window. "Kill him? No. Death is far too merciful for someone who wanted me to die in a jail cell."

Theo chuckled—low and dark.

"You’re really interesting," he said, his voice dipping into something sinful. "If I had known you earlier, I would’ve killed Kael Valtore myself before he ever laid a hand on you."

I turned slowly.

Eyes narrowing.

"Explain, Theo."

He blinked once, feigning innocence. "Explain what?"

"That whole—" I mimicked his voice horribly, "’Hello, baby,’ fiasco. Why did you say that?"

Theo tilted his head, lips curling in a wicked arc—as if my fury was his favorite flavor.

"Because it’s true."

My jaw dropped. "True?"

"Yes." He leaned back comfortably, spreading his arm along the seat behind me—invading my space like I didn’t have the ability to bite. "You should accept reality gracefully, baby."

"I AM NOT YOUR—"

He leaned in. Close enough that his breath traced the line of my cheek.

"You are,"

he murmured. "You just haven’t realized it yet."

...

This man.This walking problem.

I shifted away—he followed.

I glared—he smirked. I clenched my fists—he glanced at them with amused approval, like I’d handed him a bouquet of anger.

"Theo," I hissed, "we had a clear plan. And NOW everyone thinks—"

"That you belong to me?" he finished smoothly. Not a hint of apology. "Good. That was intentional."

"INTENTIONAL?!"

"Of course." He shrugged, as if talking about the weather. "It keeps the wolves away."

"What wolves?"

Theo gave me a long, slow look.

"Evelina," he said, tone suddenly edged with seriousness, "half the men in this city hate you.The other half wants you."

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a possessive whisper. "I’m eliminating both groups."

My brain froze for two seconds.

Just two.

Then—"You cannot claim me like some mafia trophy," I snapped.

Theo laughed under his breath.

A dangerous sound.

"You say that," he murmured, "but you walked out of that station holding my hand."

I froze. His gaze dropped to my fingers—still slightly curled as if remembering his touch.

Still warm.

Still traitorous.

Damn him.

I looked away. "That—was strategy."

"Mm," Theo hummed, unconvinced. "Of course."

I sucked in a sharp breath, trying to force logic back into my skull. "Listen. If you EVER call me baby in public again, I will drag you to court for harassment."

Theo’s eyes gleamed with a type of danger that had nothing to do with guns or knives.

"Oh, sweetheart," he whispered, leaning in as streetlights painted gold across his jaw. "After today’s stunt, half the world thinks we’re married already."

"Are you insane?!"

"Yes," he replied instantly. "Especially about you."

My heart stumbled—then did a ridiculous, treacherous somersault. I opened my mouth to retaliate, but Theo reached out and gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

As if he had any right.

I stiffened. "I don’t like people touching me."

"I know," he murmured, fingers grazing my skin one last time. "That’s why I’m the exception."

Oh.

I hate him.

I hate him so much I might combust.

And worse? He’s enjoying it. Every second. Every reaction.

Theo settled back, utterly pleased with himself.

"So," he said lightly as the warehouse district began approaching through the window, "let’s see your other dangerous side too, baby."

"That’s it—call me ’baby’ ONE more time and—"

"And you’ll scold me again?" he smirked. "I can’t wait."

I squeezed my eyes shut.

I need Rowan.

Immediately. Because if someone doesn’t remove me from this car soon, I may commit a violent crime.