When Evie had crouched to tie her shoe earlier, something rough had brushed her fingertips beneath the hem of her dress—a jagged stick, barely the length of her forearm. She hadn't thought twice. Instinct had guided her hand, snatching it quickly and slipping it into her dress pocket without drawing attention. She never expected to use it. In truth, she never thought she'd need to.
Her plan had been simple: walk back to the carriage and return to town. Hope that the real Lucas would somehow be there waiting. She'd even crafted a dozen possible explanations to justify her behavior—ones that didn't involve the word clone. But now, standing in the shadow of this creature that wore Lucas's face like a mask, Evie knew plans were useless.
She hadn't meant to stab him.
She couldn't even remember making the decision.
But when he lunged, and her back was against the bark of a tree, her hand had moved before her brain caught up. The stick had plunged into his lower abdomen with a sickening crunch, and green slime gushed from the wound, slicking her hand and staining her fingers. She had released the makeshift weapon instantly, eyes wide, trembling.
The creature staggered back, snarling in pain. Evie's breath hitched. Her heart galloped in her chest.
I stabbed him.
Dear gods, I stabbed him.
And yet it hadn't been Lucas—not really. The real Lucas had red eyes, not these bottomless, soulless pits of black. The man who stood before her now, wounded and furious, was something else entirely. Something dark, something created.
But if it dies… does that make me like him?
The question haunted her even as she turned and ran, her long, curly brown hair whipping behind her in tangled waves. Her boots pounded over dead leaves and twisted roots, dress snagging at thorns, slowing her down. The hem was soaked in slime and sweat, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The forest was too thick. The trees loomed like watchers, silent and indifferent.
She didn't look back.
She didn't have to.
The sound of crashing leaves and snarled curses told her the creature was coming.
Her legs screamed in protest, already sore from the chase. The dress she wore—elegant, cream-colored silk with lace at the sleeves—was never meant for running, especially not through terrain like this. It clung to her legs, dragged at her pace. But she ran anyway.
"I should've killed you earlier!" the creature hissed from somewhere behind her.
Evie stumbled on a root but caught herself before falling, breath hitching as she darted between trees.
"Go away, you stupid creature!" she shouted, her voice breaking with panic. Her lungs ached. Her legs trembled. The ground seemed to tilt beneath her feet, her exhaustion crashing in like a wave.
She spun suddenly, hoping to see nothing.
But he was there.
Smiling.
He stepped out from behind a tree like a shadow peeled off the bark, his grin sharp and wide. Green slime still oozed from the wound in his gut, but he didn't seem slowed by it.
Evie backed away, her light grey eyes darting, searching—anything she could use.
And then she saw it.
A long, broken branch lying in the underbrush, thick enough to be a club, sharp at one end.
She shifted her stance, eyes flicking back to the creature.
He saw where she was looking.
"Even now," he sneered, "humans think they can fight back. It's almost cute."
He lunged toward her.
Evie dashed for the stick, fingers outstretched—but she was too slow.
A clawed hand grabbed her by the waist and slammed her against a nearby tree. Bark scraped her back, and the air flew from her lungs with a wheeze. His other hand wrapped around her throat, pressing just enough to keep her pinned.
"You stupid little thing," he growled. "How far did you think you'd get? Without your precious lord to protect you, you're just meat."
Evie clawed at his hand, choking. Her feet kicked against the forest floor, but he was strong—inhumanly strong. And then, with a wet grunt, his body began to shift again.
His arm—the one holding her—began to twist, bones crackling, skin bubbling like boiling wax. The morphing was clearly painful, and the creature snarled and roared as the process began.
Evie saw her chance.
With the last of her strength, she brought her knee up—hard—into his wounded abdomen. He shrieked in agony and released her. She dropped to the ground, coughing, barely able to breathe, but she forced her shaking legs to move.
Run.
Run, Evie.
She took off, stumbling, swaying, but refusing to stop. Her muscles burned. Her lungs felt raw. Her hair clung to her sweaty face. And yet she ran deeper into the trees, deeper into the unknown, her only thought: survive.
Please, Lucas… help me.
Even now, she didn't know if he could. Or would.
She might already be too late.
"You can't run forever!" the creature howled behind her.
"I don't need forever!" she screamed back, voice hoarse.
A few feet ahead, she saw another stick—long, sharp, glinting in the dim light. A last chance.
She dove for it, heart thundering.
But he caught her mid-air.
His arms yanked her back with terrifying force.
And just as he raised a claw to strike—
A gunshot tore through the forest.
The creature jerked, then crumpled to the side, dead before he hit the ground.
Evie hit the dirt hard and blinked up at the sky, dazed.
From behind a tree, Lucas emerged, his silver pistol smoking. His face was unreadable, but the annoyance in his eyes was unmistakable.
He looked furious.
Evie's breath caught as she stared at the still body of the creature. Then she turned, slowly, toward Lucas, who approached her with steady, silent steps.
"Lucas?" she asked softly.
He didn't answer.
Instead, he crouched before her, his crimson eyes fixed on her left arm.
She followed his gaze—and saw the blood.
Back when she'd kneed the creature, one of its sharp claws had raked her arm. The pain was distant at the time, masked by adrenaline, but now it surged hot and vicious.
Lucas didn't say a word as he examined the wound. His touch was gentle, surprisingly so. She winced.
"Sorry," he murmured.
But Evie didn't let him finish.
She threw her arms around his neck, clinging tightly, her whole body trembling. Tears poured freely, soaking into his coat.
"I could have died," she sobbed. "I didn't want to die. I didn't want to be alone out here. Thank you… thank you for finding me."
Lucas was still at first, stunned.
Then, slowly, his hand reached up and stroked her long brown curls, fingers threading through the tangled strands.
She held onto him like a lifeline, crying freely, her shoulders shaking.
She'd never imagined herself in a moment like this—where survival wasn't guaranteed, where she'd face death and fight back. And yet here she was, broken, breathless, clinging to the very person she'd once accused.
The irony wasn't lost on her.
"Let me take you back to the carriage," he said softly.
He didn't wait for her answer.
He swept her up in his arms, carrying her princess-style through the woods. She didn't protest. Her head rested against his chest, hearing the steady rhythm of his heart. It comforted her.
They reached the carriage faster than she expected. Lucas must have memorized every path.
Inside, the warmth of the enclosed space hit her like a lullaby. She leaned against the seat, sniffling, eyes swollen and red.
Lucas kneeled inside beside her. He took a sharp knife and carefully cut the sleeve of her dress away to inspect the injury.
The skin was an angry mix of purple and red, the edges swollen. Blood had dried in patches, dark and crusted.
Evie looked away.
"What… what were those creatures?" she asked, voice low, haunted. "Why did they come after me?"
Lucas wrapped the cloth tight around her arm, his hands surprisingly tender.
"They weren't after you," he replied. "They were after the lord."
Her brows furrowed. "But the lord's not here. I'm not related to him. And neither are you, so why—"
She paused.
Lucas didn't look away.
Didn't deny it.
Just stared at her with calm, red eyes.
Her breath caught.
"You…" she whispered. "You're not related to the lord. You are the lord. The Lord of Havethrone."
Lucas didn't nod.
He didn't need to.
The truth hung there between them like fog, thick and undeniable.
Evie gasped.
And everything changed.