Lucien Blackwood's "protection" was not a comfort; it was an insult. His ultimatum, delivered with the raw authority of an Alpha, had solidified Evelyn's defiance into a diamond-hard resolve. She was no chattel to be confined, no pet to be guarded. She was a weapon, forged in betrayal and tempered by rebirth, and she would not be wielded by another, even one as formidable as Lucien. His interference, his possessive rage, had only fueled her fire.
She now moved through her penthouse with a deliberate grace, her mind a whirlwind of tactical planning. Marcus's increased surveillance, a palpable presence just beyond her walls, was no longer a deterrent. It was a shield. The hunters might be circling, but Lucien's pack was a far more formidable, if unwitting, deterrent. She would use his fear for her safety as a temporary cloak for her own dangerous maneuvers.
Her laptop glowed in the dim light of her study. It was time to push Kairos for more. The wolfsbane and silver coin left at her door were a declaration of war. She needed names. Faces. Vulnerabilities.
> The 'allergies' and 'herbicide' have become… personal. I require further specifics on the 'hunters'. A name. One not tied directly to the leadership, but one who can be… approached. And intelligence on their next likely semi-public appearance. Price is no object.
Kairos's response was, as always, unnervingly swift and succinct.
< Bold words for a small bird caught between wolves and hunters. They bite. And they break. But your payment has been noted. Jasper Crowe. Alexander's younger brother. More brute force than cunning. Prone to displays of dominance. Expected at the 'City Lights Charity Gala' in two nights. A suitable hunting ground, perhaps. But know this: you are playing with fire, little bird. And sometimes, even the most carefully constructed nest burns.
Jasper Crowe. The name resonated with a chilling familiarity. Evelyn remembered him from scattered social functions in her previous life – a handsome man, yes, but with a barely contained savagery in his eyes, a restless energy that often bordered on violence. A perfect target. He would be easier to provoke, less subtle than his elder brother, Alexander.
The "City Lights Charity Gala." A perfect stage. A public arena where the rules of polite society afforded a thin, fragile veneer of safety. And where Lucien, as the city's undisputed Alpha, would undoubtedly make an appearance, his protective glare an unwelcome but undeniably useful deterrent against overt aggression from the hunters.
Evelyn began to craft her plan. Her objective wasn't direct confrontation, not yet. It was observation, subtle provocation, and a strategic display of her newfound knowledge. She would rattle them. She would make them wonder how much she knew, how much she understood. She would force their hand, and in doing so, expose more of their secrets.
Her weapons: Gabi's transformative genius, her own honed intellect, and Kairos's forbidden insights into the hunters' vulnerabilities.
Gabi's salon hummed with an almost electric energy. Evelyn stood before the triple mirror, transformed. The dress, a creation of midnight blue silk threaded with fine silver, seemed to cling to her form like liquid moonlight, shimmering with a subtle, metallic sheen that was both elegant and undeniably predatory. It was cut with daring precision, revealing just enough skin to be alluring, yet structured enough to convey unyielding strength. The silver threads, far from being an anathema, felt like a perverse badge of honor, a silent defiance against the poison that had claimed her. Her hair was swept into an intricate, almost architectural braid, framing a face that was now a masterpiece of controlled power – sharp cheekbones, piercing emerald eyes, and lips painted a deep, enigmatic berry shade.
"Darling," Gabi purred, stepping back, a satisfied gleam in her electric-blue eyes. "You are not just beautiful. You are dangerous. Every man in that room will want you, and every woman will want to be you. And the Crows… they won't know what hit them."
Evelyn smiled, a cold, predatory curve of her lips. "Exactly what I'm aiming for."
The City Lights Charity Gala was a glittering spectacle of wealth and influence, held in the city's grandest ballroom. Chandeliers blazed, champagne flowed, and the air buzzed with the polite murmurs of power brokers and socialites. It was a perfect microcosm of the human world, a fragile facade built over the unseen abyss of the supernatural.
As Evelyn descended the sweeping staircase, a hush fell over the crowd. Every eye was drawn to her. Whispers erupted, a mixture of awe and thinly veiled envy. Her transformation was complete. She was no longer Lucien Blackwood's forgettable ex-wife. She was Evelyn Reed, an enigma, a force to be reckoned with.
Her gaze swept the room, and there he was. Lucien Blackwood. He stood by a velvet rope, a glass of amber liquid in his hand, his powerful frame exuding an almost palpable aura of dark authority. His eyes, like twin storm clouds, were instantly on her, narrowing with a furious, possessive intensity. The anger was clear, but beneath it, a raw, almost desperate concern for her radiated from him, a silent, primal warning. He had seen the dress, the silver in it. He knew she was defying him. Good. Let him watch. Let him stew. His unwanted protection was, for now, her shield.
She spotted him then. Jasper Crowe. Younger than Alexander, but with the same dark hair and piercing eyes, though his were colder, harder, lacking Alexander's polished charm. He moved with a restless energy, a barely suppressed impatience, a predator in a tailored suit. He was talking animatedly to a group of men, his laugh a harsh, abrupt sound. He was her target.
Evelyn, with Gabi's subtle guidance, navigated the room, exchanging pleasantries, her new persona flawless. She felt Lucien's gaze, a constant, burning pressure on her back, a visceral reminder of his disapproval and his watchful presence. It only sharpened her resolve.
Finally, she engineered a moment. Jasper Crowe, momentarily alone, was inspecting a large, abstract sculpture, his brow furrowed in thinly disguised boredom. Evelyn approached, a confident, alluring smile on her lips.
"Mr. Crowe?" she asked, her voice a low, honeyed murmur. "A fascinating piece, wouldn't you agree? Though perhaps a little… stark for a gala of this nature."
Jasper turned, his eyes raking over her, a flicker of appreciation mixed with surprise. "Evelyn Reed," he drawled, his voice a gravelly rumble. "I thought you'd vanished from the social scene. You look… remarkable. And you're right, this piece is hardly a masterpiece. More like a relic from a forgotten age, full of sharp edges and hidden meanings. Like some old, crude weapon." He smirked, a flash of something unpleasant in his eyes.
A relic from a forgotten age, full of sharp edges and hidden meanings. Like some old, crude weapon. He had played right into her hands. Evelyn's smile widened, subtly.
"Indeed," she agreed, stepping closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Some weapons, however, are never truly forgotten, are they? Especially those crafted with… silver." She let the word hang in the air, a silken thread of menace. Her eyes, meeting his, held a knowing, challenging glint. "It makes one wonder about the families who guard such ancient tools, doesn't it? Their historical interest in… unique forms of 'conservation'?"
Jasper's charming facade evaporated. His eyes, previously assessing, now narrowed, sharp and dangerous. The casual smirk vanished, replaced by a tense, wary frown. His body stiffened, a coiled spring ready to strike. He recognized the veiled threat, the chilling implication. The word "silver" had landed like a well-aimed bullet. He knew what she was hinting at. He knew she knew.
Before he could respond, a hand fell heavily on Jasper's shoulder. Alexander Crowe. His older brother, his face a careful mask of polite concern, though his eyes, as they flickered between Evelyn and his visibly agitated brother, held a dangerous, calculating curiosity.
"Jasper, old boy," Alexander said smoothly, his voice b soothing balm against the sudden tension. "Lady Thornton was just asking about your passion for archaic weaponry. Perhaps you could entertain her with your fascinating insights?" He subtly steered Jasper away, his grip firm, a silent command.
Jasper shot Evelyn a final, venomous look, his jaw clenched, before allowing himself to be led away. Alexander, however, lingered for a moment, his gaze sweeping over Evelyn, an unreadable mix of anger, intrigue, and a dawning, terrifying realization. He had underestimated her. The prey had learned to bite.
"Evelyn," Alexander murmured, his voice softer, more genuine, though equally dangerous. "You seem to be cultivating a rather… intriguing new hobby. I do hope you're careful. Some things, once stirred, cannot be easily settled."
"And some people, Alexander," Evelyn retorted, her voice ice-cold, "once awakened, cannot be easily silenced." She offered him a saccharine smile, laced with triumph and undiluted loathing. "Good evening."
She turned, her mission accomplished, adrenaline singing in her veins. She felt the combined weight of Alexander's simmering rage and Lucien's blazing fury on her back. A thrill, dark and exhilarating, surged through her. She had provoked them. She had made them react. And she had done it under Lucien's watchful, unwilling protection.
As Evelyn finally stepped out into the cool night air, the buzz of the gala a distant hum, her phone vibrated. Kairos.
< That was… bold. Your stock just went up. And your danger level along with it. My next invoice will reflect both.
A tired but triumphant smile touched her lips. She had poked the bear. She had poked the wolf. And she had survived. The game was escalating, but she was playing it on her terms.
Back in his study, Lucien Blackwood poured himself a stiff measure of Scotch, his jaw tight, his eyes burning. He had seen it all. Her defiance. Her calculated provocation of Jasper. Alexander's furious intervention. His rage was a living thing, tearing at his control, but beneath it, a grudging, unsettling admiration warred with a primal fear for her safety. She was reckless. Insane. And utterly, terrifyingly captivating.
He picked up his phone, dialing Marcus. His voice was a low growl, laced with raw Alpha authority. "I want to know everything about her movements. Every breath, every shadow. Double the detail. And prepare a contingency plan. If the Crows make a move against her, any move, we respond. With extreme prejudice. They will learn that my territory, even its most infuriating and defiant inhabitants, is not to be touched." He would not allow her to get herself killed again. Not while she was still a part of his world, however unwillingly.