Page 143 of Manacled Hearts

I’ve re-read that text so many times, it’s imprinted in my memory. A jagged claw has been shredding through the depths of my soul, its tip slowly slicing through my heart, and I didn’t realize just how much of Evelyn seeped in until now. How much her absence hurts.

In that message she mentions protecting Maya. Us too. Like we’ve been threatened, being held as leverage over her. Is that the case? She thought her sacrifice would save us? Keep us safe?

The questions run rampant in my mind.

Even with her abandonment, I can’t bear the thought of something happening to her. Losing her would be the end of me. I will not survive it. Somewhere through this strange journey we’ve had, she broke me apart, slicing the edges in patterns only she can match and put back together. And even if anyone but her would dare recognize the shapes, I would rather carve my heart out with bare hands than let them.

Carter weaves through the last of the streets that lead to the desolate beach, tires screeching on the asphalt as he takes that left. He tracked her phone the moment Loreley showed him the text, and knew exactly where she was. And she hasn’t moved since. At all. It’s both a good and a bad sign, and my stomach lurches with every bump in the road.

Through the whole car ride I wanted to scream at him to hurry the fuck up, but I didn’t need to—he drove like a madman, the urgency not lost on him.

“There!” I point to the end of a building, right next to a parapet that edges the beach. “Stop.”

I’m out of the car before the others stop behind us, and I duck behind the low wall, rushing to the edge of it. I’m so focused on taking in my surroundings, I almost stumble.

“That’s Evelyn’s,” Maddox whispers behind me as I look down at the small bag dropped at my feet.

I peer in and the first thing I notice is her phone—that’s why she hasn’t moved. Well, that makes sense, but it doesn’t make me feel better. Cocking the gun I peer out, and the first thing I notice is the man splayed out on the sand, dark blood splattered around him.

Did she do this?

Panic grips my insides, wondering how close he got to her. Is she hurt?

More fucking questions I have no answers to.

I look beyond the obviously dead man, down to the bottom of the beach, and mere feet from the crashing of the waves, I catch sight of a slim figure in the bright moonlight. From her hands and knees where she was leaning over the ground, she backs up and falls on her haunches.

Evelyn!

Wait, that’s no ground she was leaning over—it’s a person.

I’m running before any of these thoughts settle, noticing the other fallen bodies as I speed toward her. There’s four in total, including the one she sits by.

She killed.

Again.

But this is not the same as when she protected Madds from getting shot. That was pure instinct, a spur of a moment decision to protect someone, and most of her destruction was driven by fear. Desperation, even. These four men sprawled on the sand weren’t killed with the same drive. This was different. Very much intentional. Even premeditated.

I get to her just as she gathers her knees to her chest, staring at the ocean with tense shoulders, and a weak shudder raking through the rest of her body.

“Evelyn!” I shout for her.

But she doesn’t even flinch. Maybe over the crashing of the surf she can’t hear me.

My feet are sluggish in the soft sand, but I reach her nonetheless, stopping only a few feet behind her, my heart racing as I take in her delicate figure, so vulnerable in this moment. I open my mouth to call for her once more, but no words spill past my lips. Frankie, or better yet, his corpse, lies here, a knife buried to the hilt in his mangled chest. Nowadays, I barely blink when I take a life, so I can’t imagine what’s going through her mind right now.

But none of that matters right now because she’s not gone.

The breath I finally exhale is deeply charged with fear and anxious energy like I’ve never felt before, and I’m so happy to let it out.

I want to wrap her in my arms and scream at her in equal measures. I want to punish her for her stupidity, for not trusting me, and kiss her because she’s still here.

Still alive.

Still mine.

EVELYN

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