Page 37 of The Warrior's Salvation

She’s in trouble. I don’t know how deep or who else is involved, but she didn’t come to me—and that says more than I can stand to think about.

She should’ve told me.

I hit the street, air sharp in my throat, and cross to the car without slowing. The second the engine turns over, I peel out fast, tires screeching as I take the corner too hard.

I keep seeing her. That moment frozen on screen—Evie standing with Doyle’s man like she’s already bracing for something she can’t avoid. Not angry. Not defiant. Just scared.

And she did it alone.

I told myself I was protecting her, keeping distance so she’d be safe. But she was already under. Already drowning. And I didn’t see it.

Just like Maelyn.

That same crawl in my gut is back—like something vital is slipping just out of reach and I’m too fucking slow to stop it. I should’ve been there. I should’ve known.

Whatever she’s stepped into, it’s killing her from the inside out. And if Connelly is involved, this doesn’t end with a threat. It ends with blood.

She’s not a soldier. She’s not built for this kind of war.

But I am.

And if I have to burn down every piece of what’s left between me and her to get her out, then that’s exactly what I’ll do.

27

EVIE

The bath water’s gone lukewarm, but I haven’t moved. I just keep sinking deeper into it, like maybe if I lie still long enough, I’ll disappear. Just… vanish into the steam. No more lectures, no more staged tea talks about Elvin fucking Murphy and his "stable job" and his "respectable family". No more talk about duty, tradition, or what I owe my father.

I’m not sure what scares me more—telling them I’m pregnant, or letting Lochlan find out first.

My hand floats across my belly, barely a swell. It’s stupid, I know. Too early to feel anything. But it’s not about the size. It’s about the weight of it. The permanence. This isn’t a mistake I can hide behind the veil of a drunken night or bad judgment. This is life-changing.

And I love him. That’s the mess of it.

I don’t want to. I know I shouldn’t. But I do.

The knock at the door cuts through the silence, not loud, just firm. One knock. Then nothing.

I close my eyes. “It’s open,” I call out, voice sluggish. “I’m in the bath.”

Probably Mum again, come back to apologize. Or Da, finally wanting a word of his own. Maybe Jasper. I don’t know. I don’t care.

I pull the plug with my toes and reach for the towel, the sound of draining water swallowing the noise outside. But I hear it—movement. The creak of the hallway floorboard. Someone stepping lightly. No voice calling back.

I dry off fast, still talking over the sound of water like I’m not alone.

“I don’t want another lecture, alright? I’ve heard enough today. I’ll meet Elvin, I’ll smile politely, but I’m not promising anything. Not tonight.”

I slide into my robe, tugging the belt snug at my waist, still not listening to whoever is out there, and step out of the bathroom, steam trailing behind me. I freeze halfway through tying the robe at my waist.

Darren Connelly is standing near the window, his back partially turned like he’s been there long enough to get comfortable. The sight of him knocks the breath from my lungs, not with shock but with a kind of slow, crawling horror that settles beneath my skin before my brain catches up to it. The gun in his hand is pointed down, loose and casual, like it doesn’t need to be aimed yet. His coat is still buttoned. His shoes are dry. He didn’t just arrive—he’s been here.

My first instinct isn’t to scream or run or speak. I just stand there, cold seeping into my feet from the tile as every nerve in my body tries to lock down at once. There’s nowhere to go. No corner to retreat into. It's just the two of us and the ten feet of open floor between me and the bathroom, and the tiny room might as well be a cage.

“You left the door unlocked,” he says without turning around.

His voice is quiet, low enough that I barely catch it. I don’t answer. I don’t think I could even if I wanted to. My throat is too dry, and the fear has already done its work. It’s wedged itself deep into my spine, hollowing me out from the inside.

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