Evaline:
The fork froze halfway to my mouth and the olet slipped back onto the plate as my hand fell limp. I blinked at River, his words still echoing through my head like they had been spoken in another language.
You will be attending the Ball with tonight.
I stared at him, unmoving, unbreathing, the silence stretching between us like a tight wire threatening to snap. Then it hit .
"What?" I said. Or maybe I choked. I couldn’t tell. It was hard to think when my heart was punching against my ribs.
He just sat there, looking as composed as always, calmly sipping his black coffee like he hadn’t just dropped a bomb in the middle of breakfast. My body went rigid. Confusion warred with disbelief, then gradually twisted into irritation... and then anger.
"You have got to be kidding ," I muttered, slamming my fork down way harder than I intended.
His gaze slid lazily from his coffee to my face, one brow raised. "I’m not."
I stood up so suddenly that the chair behind screeched. "Why?"
The word ca out sharp, laced with all the frustration I had bottled up for months. I wasn’t just asking about tonight. I was asking about everything.
Why ?
Why always ?
And as always, he gave that sa rehearsed answer. "Because you are good at blending in. You observe quietly. You absorb things without being obvious. This Ball is full of people you need to understand if you ever want to truly succeed in the world you are planning to build for yourself."
I laughed.
It was a sharp, empty laugh that didn’t reach my eyes.
"Seriously?" I said, my voice rising. "You are pulling that card again? That sa crap about how everything you throw at is supposed to help grow?"
His expression didn’t change, but I swore I saw sothing flicker in his eyes. Pity? Amusent? Irritation? It was gone before I could figure it out.
"You act like you are doing a favor," I continued, my voice tight, "but all you ever do is push into things I didn’t ask for. And you don’t even give a choice. You didn’t ask if I wanted to go to the Ball. You told . Like I’m your puppet."
"Evaline," he began, but I cut him off.
"No!" I snapped. "Why does it always have to be , River? Why not soone else? Why not one of your other assistants? Or one of the thousands of employees working under you? Or literally any of the hundred people more qualified than I am?"
His jaw tensed.
"You think I’m so eager little girl who’ll just keep doing what you say because you use pretty words like ’career’ and ’potential.’ But I’m not that girl anymore."
My chest was heaving as I glared at him, not caring that we weren’t really alone. The quiet kitchen behind was now deathly silent. I didn’t need to look over my shoulder to know the staff was staring. I was standing in the heart of the Thorne mansion, yelling at the Rogue Alpha King himself. And I didn’t care.
I could tell what they might be thinking about - either I was too foolish, or too brave. But I didn’t care.
He stood up, slow and asured, his tall form casting a long shadow over the table. "I’m not playing gas with you."
"Then what are you doing?" I snapped. "Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you enjoy pulling my strings. What is it about that you hate so much, huh? Is it our past? Why can’t you just leave alone?"
His face remained blank, but sothing behind those cold erald eyes shifted. I didn’t give him ti to answer.
I took a step forward. "I know you hate . I have known it since the first ti we t. And it’s fine, really. Hate all you want. But don’t pretend like you are doing so favor every ti you toss into a pit full of wolves and tell to ’learn and grow.’"
He looked down at for a long mont before he finally spoke, voice calm... too calm. "You want to survive in this world, Evaline Greystone? You need to learn how to walk in it. That Ball is filled with powerful people, future allies, enemies, and manipulators. You want to be more than soone’s little pet project? Start acting like it."
I barked out another bitter laugh and shook my head.
"You are so damn good at this," I said, stepping back. "So good at acting like everything you do is for soone else’s good. But you and I both know the truth. You don’t care about learning or growing. You care about control. And you are not going to get it."
I turned to walk away.
But I didn’t make it more than three steps.
A firm hand suddenly grabbed the back of my neck. It was not hard, but firm enough to stop mid-step. I gasped as I was pulled back, spun around like a doll, until I was facing him again.
His eyes were still unreadable, his expression still emotionless. But the grip on told a different story.
My breath hitched.
We were close now... too close. His fingers were still at the back of my neck, not hurting, not threatening. But grounding.
"I don’t hate you," he said softly, his voice low enough that only I could hear.
"Really? You want to believe that?" For so weird, twisted, and stupid reason, I wasn’t feeling like backing down.
"Yes."
"Why?" I pressed. "Why should I believe that you have suddenly forgotten about all your hatred toward and you genuinely want to help ?"
He inched closer, leaving rely few breaths of space between us. I forgot how to breathe.
His voice was barely a whisper as he spoke, "Because-"
"What’s going on here?"
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