Evelyn's breath caught in her throat. The garden, once her place of freedom, now felt suffocating under Ashford's gaze. The moonlight made his features sharper, his smile more sinister, and she could not mistake the way his words carried both suspicion and possession.
"I don't know what you mean," she managed, her voice steady though her hands trembled where they clutched her shawl.
Ashford tilted his head, studying her as though she were a puzzle he had nearly solved. "Don't you?" he asked softly. "You come out here, night after night, to breathe the air… to think?" His steps were slow, deliberate, closing the distance between them. "No, Evelyn. I don't believe that. You're hiding something."
Evelyn's pulse thundered. She wanted to run, to shout, to push him away—but the walls of her mother's expectations and Ashford's looming authority caged her in tighter than the hedges that surrounded them.
And then, before she could answer, the sound of hurried footsteps broke through the night.
From the shadows beyond the rose trellis, Julian appeared. His breath was uneven, his eyes scanning the scene in an instant. The sight of Ashford so close to Evelyn, his body angled toward her in quiet threat, lit something sharp and dangerous in Julian's chest.
"Step away from her," Julian said, his voice low, commanding.
Evelyn's heart lurched—part with relief, part with dread.
Ashford turned slowly, his expression composed but his eyes narrowing with recognition. "Ah. So this is the ghost haunting my fiancée's nights."
Julian's jaw tightened. He took a step closer, his shoulders squared. "She doesn't belong to you."
Ashford's smile widened, cold and cruel. "Doesn't she? Her mother has already given her to me. The contracts are nearly written. And yet here you are, trespassing in gardens that aren't yours, stealing what doesn't belong to you."
Evelyn's voice finally broke free, trembling but fierce. "I am not something to be stolen or claimed!"
Both men turned to her, but neither released the tension that hung thick in the night. Ashford's gaze flickered, not at all shaken by her outburst. "You may say that now, Evelyn. But soon, the law, society, and your own family will say otherwise. And he—" he gestured toward Julian with a dismissive flick of his hand "—will be nothing more than a memory."
Julian stepped forward, anger burning in his eyes, but Evelyn caught his arm, her touch both desperate and pleading.
"Julian," she whispered, fear lacing her voice. "Not here. Not like this."
Ashford's smile returned, sharp as glass. "Wise words. Let him listen to you, Evelyn. Because if he doesn't… I promise, he won't just lose you. He'll lose much more."
The warning hung in the air like a blade suspended by a thread. And then Ashford turned, his cloak brushing against the stone path as he strode back toward the manor, leaving Evelyn and Julian standing in the hollow silence of the garden.
Evelyn's knees nearly gave way, but Julian caught her, holding her close. She pressed her face against his chest, her body trembling.
"He knows," she whispered. "He knows everything."
Julian tightened his hold around her, his heart pounding with the weight of both fury and fear. "Then we'll have to move faster. Before they lock you away from me forever."
Julian held Evelyn for a long moment, his hand pressed firmly against her back as though he could shield her from all that threatened her. The cool night air carried the lingering echo of Ashford's words, and Evelyn could still feel the burn of his gaze, even though he had gone.
When at last she pulled back, her face was pale in the moonlight. "Julian, you don't understand. He isn't bluffing. If my mother suspects… if Ashford has proof… they will destroy you. And me."
Julian cupped her face gently, forcing her eyes to meet his. "Let them try," he said quietly but fiercely. "I've faced men who thought power made them untouchable. They're not as invincible as they seem."
Evelyn shook her head, her throat tightening. "This isn't a battlefield, Julian. It's society. It's the law. And in their world, I'm already his."
The words broke something inside her, and she turned away, pressing her hands to her face. The thought of being tied to Ashford, silenced, her music muted under his shadow, was unbearable. But the risk of dragging Julian into ruin was worse.
Julian stepped behind her, his arms wrapping around her waist, his voice low in her ear. "Then let's not play their game. If the rules are made to chain you, we don't follow them. We make our own."
His words lit a trembling spark in her chest, but she was too afraid to fan it into flame. Still, she leaned back into him, her body craving the steadiness he gave her. "And what if they catch us?" she whispered.
Julian's lips brushed her hair, his breath warm. "Then they'll have to tear me from you. And they won't do it easily."
A silence stretched between them, heavy with longing and fear. Evelyn turned in his arms, her hands clutching at his uniform, and when their lips met it was with desperation, as though both knew this might be stolen time, a fleeting moment before the storm.
But as their kiss deepened, the faint crunch of gravel carried on the night air. Evelyn stiffened instantly, her breath caught. Julian's hand moved instinctively to the dagger at his belt.
From beyond the hedges, a lantern's glow flickered. Voices—low, murmuring, growing nearer.
Servants? Guards? Or something worse?
Evelyn grabbed Julian's hand, her heart pounding. "We have to go," she whispered urgently. "If they see you here—"
The voices grew clearer. One was unfamiliar, clipped and sharp, giving orders. The other, unmistakably, was Ashford's.
Julian's jaw clenched. He pulled Evelyn deeper into the shadows of the hedges, his body shielding hers, every sense sharpened.
Ashford's voice floated through the night. "Search the grounds. She's been restless. I want proof. Tonight."
Evelyn's blood ran cold.
Julian's grip on her hand tightened. "They're hunting us."
The lantern light swept across the garden paths, and Evelyn's heart hammered so loudly she feared it would give them away. Julian pressed her closer into the hedges, the thorns pricking through her shawl, but she didn't dare move. His arm was firm around her waist, steadying her trembling frame, his body shielding hers from view.
Footsteps crunched nearer, gravel shifting under polished boots. Evelyn could hear the metallic clink of weapons, the steady rhythm of trained men searching. And then—Ashford's voice again, calm and measured, cutting through the dark like the blade of a knife.
"She's too clever to leave evidence lying in the open. But she's also too tenderhearted. Women like her always leave a trail when their affections wander. Find it."
Evelyn squeezed her eyes shut, her breath caught painfully in her chest. She could almost feel the net tightening, every word confirming that Ashford would not stop until he had proof of her betrayal.
Julian's jaw tightened as he listened. His instincts screamed to fight, to end this cat-and-mouse chase here and now. But one wrong move—one sound—would damn Evelyn with him. He leaned close, his lips brushing her ear. "Stay quiet. No matter what."
Evelyn nodded, though her pulse raced so wildly she thought her silence would betray her.
The beam of a lantern passed so close to their hiding place that Evelyn could see dust dancing in the golden light. One of the guards bent, inspecting footprints in the dirt near the fountain.
"Here," the man called softly. "Someone's been standing here recently. Two sets of tracks."
Evelyn felt her stomach drop. Her hand clutched Julian's sleeve with desperate force.
Ashford stepped forward, the light illuminating his sharp features. He crouched, brushing a gloved hand over the prints. He didn't need to say anything—his silence was more dangerous than rage. Slowly, he rose, his face unreadable.
"We are closer than I thought," he said finally, his voice like ice. "Double the watch. If she slips again, I want her caught. And if it is who I suspect…" His pause was deliberate, his gaze sweeping over the dark hedges. "Then he will learn what happens to men who covet what isn't theirs."
Julian's hand tightened around Evelyn's. He could feel the tremor running through her, but his grip promised unspoken resolve: I will not let them take you.
At last, Ashford turned, the lantern light retreating slowly with the men who followed him. The crunch of their boots faded, leaving only the whisper of the wind through the garden roses.
Evelyn sagged against Julian, her breath breaking free in a shaky rush. "They know," she whispered, tears stinging her eyes. "It's only a matter of time before they catch us."
Julian tilted her chin upward, forcing her to meet his gaze. His eyes burned with determination, fierce and unwavering. "Then we don't wait for them to act. We move first."
Her lips parted in shock. "Julian…"
"We can't keep stealing moments, Evelyn," he said, his voice raw, urgent. "Your mother has caged you, and Ashford is tightening the noose. If we stay, they'll destroy us both. But if we leave—tonight—we have a chance."
The weight of his words pressed down on her. The fear of discovery, the risk of scandal, the loss of everything she had ever known—it all clawed at her heart. Yet when she looked into Julian's eyes, she saw something she had never felt in the cold halls of her family's world: freedom.
Her breath trembled, but her voice was steady when she spoke. "Then take me away from here."
Julian's arms pulled her close, his lips brushing hers in a kiss that sealed their unspoken vow.
But neither of them noticed the shadow lingering far down the path, just beyond the trellis—one of Ashford's men, who had fallen behind the patrol, watching in silence as Evelyn whispered her surrender into Julian's arms.
The night had grown colder, though Evelyn hardly felt it. She clung to Julian's hand as though it were the only anchor keeping her from falling into an abyss. His words echoed in her mind—we leave tonight. The thought filled her with equal parts terror and exhilaration.
Julian led her through the dark hedges, keeping to the shadows. Every crunch of gravel felt deafening, every flicker of lantern light from the manor a threat. At last, they reached a quieter stretch of the gardens where the walls loomed high and ivy tangled thick across the stone.
"There," Julian whispered, pointing to a section where the wall dipped slightly. "It's old, weaker than the rest. We can climb it."
Evelyn's eyes widened. "Now? Without anything? No clothes, no money—"
He turned to her, his face set in determined lines. "If we wait, we'll have nothing left. Ashford is already hunting us. Tomorrow could be too late."
Her heart pounded so violently she thought it might burst. She thought of her mother, of the cold grip of duty, of Ashford's eyes when he claimed her as his possession. And then she thought of the music she longed to play, the freedom she tasted only when Julian was near.
She nodded, her voice breaking but firm. "Then I'll climb."
Julian cupped her cheek for the briefest moment, pressing a kiss to her forehead before guiding her to the wall. He helped her find the footholds in the ivy, steadying her when she slipped, his strength lifting her when the stones jutted too far. By the time she reached the top, her palms were raw, her breath quick, but her heart soared—this was the closest she had ever been to freedom.
Julian followed quickly, pulling himself up with practiced ease. They paused at the top, the manor sprawling behind them in moonlight, its grand windows cold and unfeeling. Evelyn's chest tightened—this had been her prison, but it was still her home. She couldn't stop the tears that spilled down her cheeks.
Julian took her hand. "Don't look back," he whispered.
She nodded, and together they climbed down the other side.
But as their feet hit the ground, a voice cut through the silence.
"Well, well."
Evelyn froze, her blood running cold. From the shadows of the trees ahead, figures emerged—three men in Ashford's livery, lanterns raised, swords gleaming faintly in the moonlight. At their center stood Ashford himself, his cloak draped elegantly, his expression calm.
"I must say," he drawled, his voice carrying an almost amused lilt, "I hadn't expected you to be so bold, Evelyn. Running away like a thief in the night. And with him, no less."
Evelyn's breath caught, terror flooding her. She glanced at Julian, whose body had gone taut with fury, his hand hovering near the hilt of his blade.
Ashford stepped closer, his eyes gleaming with cold triumph. "Did you truly believe, my dear, that I wouldn't know? That I wouldn't be watching?" He smiled thinly. "You disappoint me."
Julian moved in front of Evelyn, his voice low and edged with steel. "If you want to keep your dignity intact, Ashford, you'll step aside."
Ashford chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Ah, the soldier's bravado. But you forget—you are in my world now. And in my world, Evelyn belongs to me."
Evelyn clutched Julian's arm, her voice trembling but fierce. "I am not yours, Ashford. I will never be."
The words seemed to amuse him further, though there was an icy flicker in his eyes. He raised a hand, and the men at his side unsheathed their swords.
Julian's grip tightened on his dagger. "Then this ends tonight."
Ashford's laugh was low, mocking, but his eyes glittered with malice.
"So dramatic," he said, tilting his head. "But do you think you can protect her from me? From all that I own, all that I command?" He spread his hands, as though the night itself belonged to him.
Julian stepped forward, keeping Evelyn behind him, his dagger catching the moonlight. "I don't need to own anything, Ashford. I only need to stop you."
The air thickened, a silence stretched taut like a bowstring. Then one of Ashford's men lunged forward, blade slicing the night.
Julian was faster. Steel clashed against steel, sparks flying. Evelyn gasped, her heart hammering as the two men fought viciously in front of her. Julian moved like a storm, every strike filled with precision, every parry a shield between her and danger.
The second guard advanced. Evelyn stumbled back, panic rising—until Julian pivoted, striking the first man's sword away and slamming the hilt of his dagger into his jaw. The guard crumpled.
But Ashford was unmoved, his expression eerily calm as the second guard rushed in. Evelyn's scream caught in her throat—yet Julian turned, blade meeting blade in a shower of sparks.
"Impressive," Ashford murmured, his tone almost amused. "Perhaps I underestimated you."
Julian's dagger cut through the air, and in a brutal twist, he disarmed the second guard, who collapsed to his knees clutching a bleeding arm.
Breathless, Julian raised his weapon toward Ashford himself. "It's over. Let us go."
But Ashford only smiled.
"You truly believe she is free because you say so?" His gaze slid past Julian, pinning Evelyn with an intensity that made her shiver. "Evelyn, you may run, you may hide, but the world will never belong to you. It belongs to men like me. You'll come back to me—whether in chains or willingly."
Evelyn's nails dug into her palms, her terror twisting into defiance. She stepped out from behind Julian, her voice unsteady but clear.
"No, Ashford. I will never return to you."
For the first time, a crack in his composure appeared. His eyes narrowed, his smile fading. "Careful, my dear," he said coldly. "You mistake this for choice."
Julian shifted, his dagger steady. "She has a choice. And tonight, she chose me."
Ashford's cloak billowed as he stepped closer, his voice dropping to a hiss. "Then you've just signed both your deaths."
Before Evelyn could react, Ashford drew his own blade—sleek, cruel, and glinting in the moonlight.
The true battle was about to begin.
The clearing seemed to shrink as Ashford drew his blade, the air turning sharp, almost metallic. The silver glimmer of his sword reflected the moonlight, but his eyes—dark and unrelenting—were far more dangerous than the steel.
Julian adjusted his stance, feet planted firmly in the dirt. Evelyn's breath caught in her throat as she watched the two men circle each other like predators, every muscle straining, every second dripping with tension.
Ashford struck first. His blade sliced through the air with ruthless precision, and Julian barely managed to parry, the clang of metal echoing into the night. Sparks burst, and Evelyn flinched, clutching her cloak tighter around herself.
"You fight well," Ashford taunted, pressing forward, each strike heavier, sharper. "But you're nothing compared to me. Do you really think love makes you strong?"
Julian's jaw tightened. He pushed back, his dagger deflecting Ashford's swings, each movement fueled not by pride but by something deeper—desperation, determination, and the burning need to keep Evelyn safe.
Ashford feinted left and slashed right, nearly grazing Julian's arm. Julian staggered back but recovered quickly, countering with a brutal swipe that forced Ashford to retreat a step.
"You underestimate love," Julian growled. "That's why you'll lose."
Ashford laughed, but it was a hollow sound, a mockery. "Love is weakness."
Julian surged forward, blade meeting blade in a flurry of sparks. The fight grew savage—steel biting steel, their shadows twisting under the moon. Evelyn's heart pounded as she watched, torn between fear and the fierce urge to help.
Her gaze darted around the clearing, searching desperately for anything—a rock, a branch, something she could use. Then she saw it: one of Ashford's guards had dropped a sword when Julian disarmed him. It lay half-hidden in the grass, only a few feet away.
Her pulse thundered. She knew she wasn't a fighter, but she couldn't stand frozen while Julian risked everything.
Evelyn darted toward the fallen sword. Ashford's eyes flicked to her, a flicker of rage flashing across his face. That distraction was all Julian needed.
He struck hard, knocking Ashford off balance. Evelyn, breathless and trembling, gripped the sword with both hands. The weight nearly dragged her down, but she raised it anyway, her knuckles white.
Julian saw her, and something fierce flickered in his gaze—fear, pride, love all tangled together.
Ashford regained his footing, his smile venomous. "How quaint," he sneered at Evelyn. "The lady thinks she can fight."
Evelyn swallowed hard, forcing her voice not to shake. "Maybe I can't fight… but I can still stand beside him."
The night pulsed with tension—Julian and Evelyn against Ashford, steel gleaming, choices heavy, and the outcome uncertain.