CHAPTER 49: KAEL VALTORE’S BAPTISM OF FEAR

(Evelina’s POV—Warehouse, Continuation)

Kael’s scream still echoed faintly through the warehouse—muffled under the tape, vibrating through the cold metal walls like a dying animal.

Pathetic.

He trembled so violently the chair shook beneath him, scraping against the concrete floor. Sweat beaded down his temples, mixing with tears, blood, and fear—my favorite combination.

I twirled the knife between my fingers, letting the dim overhead bulb glint across the blade. A soft, amused hum slipped from my lips.

"Mm. Crying already?" I tilted my head. "And I haven’t even started."

His eyes darted wildly—pleading, begging, cursing—all at once. Rowan stood a few steps behind me like a silent shadow, posture firm, eyes cold. Theo lounged lazily on a crate, smoke curling around him, watching me as if I were his personal entertainment.

But the only one who mattered here... Was the man tied to the chair.

If he thought the stab to the thigh was the climax—oh, poor idiot.

That was just the introduction. I leaned closer, gripping Kael’s jaw with one hand, forcing his panicked gaze to meet mine.

"You know, Kael..." I murmured, my voice soft enough to make him flinch harder, "...there is something I truly want to understand."

My thumb brushed across his cheek, deceptively gentle.

"Why did you think," I whispered, eyes narrowing, "that you could win against me?"

His breath hitched—fast, shallow, broken.

I smiled.

"Did you think I was weak?" A step closer.

"Did you think I was stupid?" Another step.

"Did you think," I leaned in until my lips nearly brushed his ear, "that framing me and watching me die in a jail cell would be easy?"

He whimpered—a disgusting, trembling sound muffled under the tape.

I pulled back.

"Answer me—"

I pressed the knife on the stab wound in his thigh.

Hard.

Kael screamed, the sound ripping through the warehouse like tearing flesh.

My smile widened. "That’s what I thought."

I walked toward Rowan’s carefully arranged table of tools. My fingers hovered over each instrument—scalpel, pliers, needles, wires—all so beautifully polished.

Rowan really did have excellent taste in methods.

Behind me, Theo spoke, voice dripping with lazy amusement. "Baby, if you keep going like this, you’ll ruin the chair."

I didn’t bother turning.

"It’s not the chair I’m ruining," I said calmly. "It’s his delusion."

Theo chuckled.

Kael’s eyes widened in terror.

Perfect.

I selected a different blade—thin, curved, and precise—the kind used by surgeons for delicate cuts.

I turned it slowly in the light.

"Kael," I said, stepping toward him with unhurried grace, "do you know what hurts more than dying?"

He shook his head violently.

I smiled—slow, elegant, and cruel. "Living."

His chest heaved. I crouched beside him, resting the cold metal against the uninjured thigh.

"You took my freedom," I said softly. "You took my name. You took my dignity." My eyes sharpened. "And now, I’ll take back everything you tried to steal."

Kael thrashed against the ropes, the chair scraping the floor again, legs kicking in panic.

Rowan stepped forward immediately, steady hand on the chair’s back, holding him in place like he weighed nothing. I stroked the knife along his skin—barely grazing, barely touching—enough to make him freeze in terror.

Then—lightly—I pressed the blade into his skin, shallow enough not to kill, deep enough to scar.

A thin line of blood trailed downward.

Kael convulsed.

I inhaled slowly, savoring the sight.

"This," I whispered, "is only the beginning."

Behind me, I felt Theo’s stare intensify—heavy, possessive, hungry. He wasn’t watching Kael.

He was watching me.

I ignored him.

I had more important things to break tonight. I tapped the bloody knife lightly against my palm and said, calm as a lullaby:

"Rowan... untie him."

Rowan didn’t hesitate. Didn’t question. His loyalty wasn’t loud—his loyalty was absolute.

"Yes, Madam."

He cut the ropes with a swift flick of his blade. Kael collapsed to the floor instantly, gasping, shaking, his leg bleeding in frantic pulses.

Pathetic.

Rowan grabbed him by the throat before he could crawl away, lifting him like a useless toy.Kael kicked weakly, gagging under Rowan’s grip.

I stepped closer, heels clicking against concrete—each step a punctuation mark of his impending fate.

"Kael," I said softly, kneeling so my eyes met his terrified ones, "do you know how I almost died?"

His breath hitched.

I tilted my head, letting my voice drop to a cold whisper. "Do you know how I drowned?"

A strangled sound escaped his taped mouth.

I smiled.

A slow, elegant, terrible smile. "Make him feel it, Rowan."

Rowan already understood. He dragged Kael across the floor, fingers locked around his neck, boots scraping helplessly. The sound echoed—a desperate, pathetic rhythm of regret.

Kael flailed, muffled pleas spilling against the tape—"MMHPH—MMPH—!!!"

Rowan didn’t stop.

The warehouse lights gleamed off the long metal tub I had prepared earlier—filled with cold water, still, dark, and waiting.

Waiting for him.

For this exact moment. Rowan forced Kael down, one hand crushing the back of his skull. I stepped closer, folding my arms as my voice slipped into a soft, icy murmur.

"Kael, darling... inhale."

He shook his head violently. Didn’t matter. Rowan slammed his face into the water.

SPLASH—!!

Water surged over the sides as Kael’s body convulsed. His legs kicked against the ground, his fingers clawed at the air, desperate, pathetic.

Rowan held him easily, unmoved, steady as stone.

I watched.

Quietly.

Slowly.

Beautifully.

Theo exhaled behind me—slow, low, as if witnessing art. Kael thrashed harder. Air bubbles burst around his submerged face. The muffled scream beneath the water vibrated like a drowned heartbeat.

I took a step forward, heels clicking softly.

"You know..." my voice floated through the warehouse, silky and cold, "when I was drowning, Kael... the world went silent."

Rowan pressed harder.

"Everything blurred. Everything went cold. And all I could think was—" I crouched beside the tub, leaning close to his writhing body.

"—why?"

Kael’s struggles weakened.

His kicks slowed. His fingers loosened. Rowan did not release him.

Yet.

I tapped the edge of the bathtub lightly with my fingernail.

"But now," I whispered, "I think you should taste it yourself."

Rowan lifted him for a brief second—Kael choked violently, gasping for air, coughing out water, tears and snot mixing down his face as he tried to breathe.

His terrified eyes shot straight to me.

I smiled sweetly.

"Again."

Rowan shoved him back under. THRASH—!! SPLASH—!!

Kael’s limbs spasmed with renewed panic, but Rowan’s grip was iron. The water darkened with blood from his thigh wound, swirling like ink.

His body convulsed.

His screams drowned.

A shadow moved behind me.

Theo stepped closer, his voice low and dangerous: "Baby... this is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen."

I didn’t look at him.

My eyes were on Kael’s sinking strength.

His fading will.

His fear.

Now he understood what drowning felt like.

I watched him crumble.

And then—

DING!!!

A translucent blue screen flickered in front of my vision.

[System: Congratulations. You have cleared the episode: "The Witch They Tried to Frame." Rewards: +10 Affection Points (All Characters) +100 Reputation Villainess Route: Dark Branch — SUCCESSFUL.]

I exhaled long and slow.

Good.

But...Not enough.

Even after clearing this route, that damn hidden route still wouldn’t unlock.

Those 10,000 gold coins Theo had given me—Lost during the attack Kael orchestrated.

I clenched my fist.

I could have unlocked it. I should have unlocked it. I was one step away from securing my own freedom—my own ending.

But Kael Valtore?

He stole that from me too.

My lips curled in a cold, silent fury. Behind me, Theo’s voice dropped low. "What do you want to do?"

I met his gaze—sharp, dangerous, unwavering.

"I want," I said slowly, "to make his life hell."

Theo smirked—hungry, violent, pleased.

"Then leave that to me," he murmured, stepping closer, smoke swirling in the warehouse air. "I know better than anyone how to torture a man. Especially one I despise."

His eyes narrowed slightly.

"If," he added, "you trust me with him."

I held his gaze for a long, quiet second.

His eyes were dark.Steady.Waiting.

I turned toward Kael—trembling on the concrete, coughing water, bleeding, broken.

"Fine," I said. "I leave this man to you."

Theo smirked like a devil handed a kingdom. "As my babe wants."

I sighed.

Of course he wouldn’t stop calling me that. Of course arguing wouldn’t change anything. If anything, he would probably tattoo the word on his forehead just to annoy me.

Before I could warn him again, he stepped closer—much closer.

"I have a gift for you," he murmured.

I blinked. "A gift?"

He nodded, then—without warning—he slid an arm around my waist. Strong. Warm. Possessive.

My heart jolted—but my glare appeared instantly. "What are you doing?"

Theo leaned in, breath ghosting my ear.

"If," he said slowly, "you come to the Vinter mansion tonight...you will find something very interesting."

My brain—Stopped.

Paused.

Rebooted.

Because the way he said it—The tone—The proximity—The heat—My treacherous brain supplied one singular, horrifying possibility.

"...I don’t sell my body for a mere gift," I snapped coldly.

Theo blinked.

A beat.

And then—

"Pfft—" He choked. "—Haha—"

And then—

"HAHAHAHA—!!!"

He bent over, actually clutching his stomach as he laughed—rich, uncontrollable, utterly amused. Rowan even paused mid-torture to glance back.

Theo wiped a tear from the corner of his eye.

"Oh, Evelina..." he exhaled between laughs, "...you really think I’m trying to sleep with you for a gift?"

I crossed my arms. "You held my waist."

"You have a waist worth holding."

I glared.

He smirked.

But then his voice dipped—low, dangerous, sincere. "The gift has nothing to do with your body, sweetheart."

He lifted my chin gently, thumb brushing under my jaw.

"This," he whispered, "is not a transaction. It’s an invitation."

My breath stilled.

"An invitation to what?" I asked cautiously.

Theo’s smile— slow, sinful, wicked—returned.

"To what you wanted earlier," he murmured, voice a velvet knife. "The thing you lost."

My breath stilled. My pulse stuttered.

The thing I lost is 10,000 gold coins.

. . .

. . .

Damn him.

Damn him and his entire alluring, maddening existence.

My mind raced—

Should I go?Should I not?Is this another one of his ridiculous "claiming me" attempts?

But then he cut through my thoughts effortlessly.

"I know," Theo said softly, "you won’t be going back to the Hartgrave mansion tonight."

I froze.

That place isn’t home anymore. It’s a cage with family portraits on the wall.

Theo stepped closer, his voice dropping into something dangerously gentle.

"So..." he said, eyes locked onto mine, "take shelter at my place tonight."

My jaw tightened.

Of course he’d phrase it in a way that sounded both like an offer and a declaration.

A safe haven disguised inside a trap.

And yet...What choice did I have?

I had no allies left except Rowan—and him. No place untouched by betrayal. No mansion I could walk into without knives hidden in smiles.

I exhaled.

"...Alright," I said quietly.

His smirk sharpened—victory laced with something far deeper, far more dangerous.

But I didn’t care. Not right now. Because trust was no longer a luxury—it was a weapon.And if I had to choose between the people who betrayed me and the man who dismantled a police station for me?

I would choose the devil who stood beside me.