The carriage ride back was suffocating, a heavy silence between them that seemed to press in from all sides. Katherine sat rigidly across from Vincent, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, knuckles white from the tension. The city outside blurred into a wash of lamplight and shadow, the usual bustle of New Orleans seeming so far away in this small, confined space. Inside the carriage, there was only the hum of the wheels and the harsh rasp of Vincent's breathing as he sat rigid beside her.
Every so often, she would glance at him, but his jaw remained tight, and his gaze remained fixed out the window, as if he were afraid that even looking at her would shatter the fragile control he was desperately clinging to. Katherine's heart pounded in her chest, the anger in his posture and the coldness in the air between them a sharp contrast to the warmth they had shared not so long ago.
She opened her mouth, but no words came out. What could she say to him? What could she possibly say to make him understand? She had tried to fix things, to do what she thought was best. But now, in the heavy silence, she realized just how badly she had miscalculated.
Vincent had warned her, more than once, of the dangers of her ties to Madame Dupont. He had cautioned her about the hold the woman still had over her, about the threats she posed, but Katherine had thought she could change things. She had hoped—foolishly—that if she confronted Madame Dupont, spoke to her as an equal, maybe the woman would finally see reason and release her from the hold she'd kept her in for so long.
But instead, all she had done was walk straight into the lion's den.
The carriage pulled to a stop outside Vincent's townhouse, and the brief jolt of the wheels barely registered in Katherine's mind. She stood, her limbs heavy with the weight of her actions, and followed Vincent inside. The door slammed behind them with such force that it felt like an exclamation point to the storm that was brewing.
Vincent whirled on her as soon as the door clicked shut. His eyes were blazing with anger, his body coiled tight like a bowstring. "What the hell were you thinking?" he demanded, his voice low but sharp, slicing through the air.
Katherine felt her pulse spike, but she stood her ground, meeting his fiery gaze with her own. "I was thinking about us!" she retorted, the words escaping her before she could stop them. "I was trying to fix things before they spiraled out of control!"
Vincent scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping him as he ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "Us?" He shook his head, disbelief written all over his face. "You went to her, Katherine! Alone! Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?"
"I know I was reckless, I'm sorry!" Katherine snapped, her voice trembling with a mixture of anger and guilt. "I was only trying to stop this before it got any worse! I thought if I could just speak to her, I could make her see reason. I could make her let me go."
Vincent's eyes darkened, and his voice dropped, low and dangerous. "Let you go?" His voice quivered with something close to heartbreak, and for a moment, Katherine saw a flicker of vulnerability beneath the anger. "Katherine, she believes she owns you, in her mind. You walking into that place didn't prove your freedom. It just reminded her that she still has a hold on you."
Katherine flinched at the truth in his words, the sting of them almost more than she could bear. She closed her eyes, fighting to hold back the wave of emotion that threatened to overtake her. He was right. She had hoped—naively—that confronting Madame Dupont would set her free. But in reality, all she had done was remind the woman that Katherine was still hers. Still trapped.
"I don't want to spend the rest of my life running," Katherine whispered, the weight of her own fear and desperation filling her chest. "I thought that if I went, if I faced her, maybe she'd see I wasn't a threat anymore. Maybe she'd finally let me go."
Vincent let out a bitter breath, his face hardening once more. "She won't ever let you go, Katherine. Not until she's finished with you." His voice softened at the end, a weary finality in his words that made Katherine feel as though the ground beneath her was slipping away.
Her breath caught in her throat as his words hit her like a punch to the gut. She had known that Madame Dupont would never truly release her—that there would always be strings tying her to the brothel, to the life she had been forced into. But hearing Vincent say it out loud, with such certainty, made the reality of it all the more suffocating.
Vincent studied her for a long moment, his gaze intense and searching, as if trying to find some flicker of hope in her expression. "What did she say to you?" he asked, his voice quiet now, but the underlying tension still there.
Katherine hesitated. The weight of what had transpired in that room was still too fresh, still too raw. She wasn't sure if she could speak it aloud. But the look in Vincent's eyes, the way his shoulders were sagging with exhaustion, made her feel as though he needed to know. He needed to understand why she had done what she did.
But she couldn't bring herself to tell him everything. Not yet.
"I... I can't," she whispered, shaking her head. "It doesn't matter. I went. I talked to her. And now I'm here." She swallowed hard, fighting to keep the tears at bay. "I chose this."
Vincent's expression softened for a moment, but there was still a coldness to him, a wall he was putting up between them. His fists clenched at his sides, and he exhaled sharply through his nose. "Just promise me you won't do something like this again," he said, his voice rough but filled with an earnestness that made her heart ache.
Katherine took a step back, as if his words had struck her like a physical blow. She had hoped, deep down, that this moment would lead to something different—a resolution, a turning point. But it wasn't. It felt like everything between them was unraveling. Like she was losing him.
She opened her mouth, ready to promise him, but the words caught in her throat. Could she truly promise that? Could she promise him she wouldn't make another attempt to free herself, to try to regain control of her life? She wasn't sure she could. She wasn't sure she could stop.
But she couldn't bear the thought of pushing him away any further.
"I promise," she whispered, the words hollow and heavy on her tongue.
Vincent nodded slowly, but the doubt that lingered in his eyes was unmistakable. He didn't believe her. And deep down, neither did she.