Page 23 of The Warrior's Salvation

I suppress a groan, casting Kelly a desperate glance, but my friend just smiles politely at Mum. "I'm sure Evie knows exactly what she wants," Kelly replies smoothly, taking a cracker from the tray.

Mum sighs, ignoring Kelly’s gentle deflection. "I don't understand your hesitation, Evie. Elvin’s a wonderful man. Stable job, good family—you won’t have to worry about anything. You should meet him and discuss things properly."

"Thanks, Mum," I say through gritted teeth, "but I’m still not feeling great. Can we talk about this later?" I'm not denying that I'll do as she asks, but I haven't been feeling the greatest. Even she can appreciate that.

She gives me a pointed look, as if to remind me later means soon, then nods. "Alright, sweetheart. Just promise me you’ll consider it."

"I will," I say softly, hoping it’s enough to appease her.

When she finally leaves, shutting the door softly behind her, Kelly turns to me with a knowing smirk. "Well, Evie, sounds like you’ve got a romantic dinner to plan."

"Please don’t start," I groan, tossing another pillow at her.

Kelly catches the pillow with a laugh, but the sound is cut short by the buzz of a phone on the nightstand. My heart leaps into my throat as I glance at the thing—the burner phone Darren made me take. Dread curls through my stomach when I see a notification.

Nausea hits me so hard, I have to grip the edge of the bed. My breath catches sharply.

"Evie?" Kelly's playful expression fades instantly. "You alright?"

"I'm—I'm fine," I stammer, trying to steady myself. "But I think you should probably head home now. I really don’t feel good."

She hesitates, worry clear in her narrowed eyes. "You sure? You look pale."

"I'm sure," I insist, forcing a weak smile. "Just tired."

Reluctantly, Kelly nods, grabbing her purse from the chair. "Call if you need anything."

I bob my head silently, waiting until she's gone to bury my face in shaking hands.

My mind races, anxiety clawing its way up my throat. What could Darren possibly want now? I gave him everything he asked for—unless he's finally ready to destroy my family once and for all.

16

LOCHLAN

Fog hangs thick over the docks tonight, swirling around our ankles as we move between shipping crates stacked high like a steel maze. The damp chill cuts right through me, but I barely notice. Draco walks ahead, popping open a crate to reveal neatly packed weapons ready to move tomorrow morning.

Jasper steps up beside me, leaning forward to inspect the shipment. He whistles softly. “Quality stuff,” he murmurs appreciatively. “Cormac’s not gonna like our expanding business under his nose.”

“He doesn’t have much choice,” Draco says, confidently folding his arms. “The factory strike’s settled. Doyle lost leverage there. He backed down, just like we expected.”

Jasper snorts, nudging my shoulder with his elbow. “Guess the Doyle boys got cold feet. Didn’t want a real fight after all.”

I give Jasper a sideways look, suppressing a smile. It’s easy for him to joke now that the immediate pressure is off, but something still sits uneasily in my gut. “Cormac Doyle isn’t chicken,” I say quietly as my eyes rake over the weapons thoughtfully. “He’s patient, calculating. He’s playing a longer game.”

“Come on, Loch,” Jasper replies lightly, stepping back and crossing his arms comfortably over his chest. “We took their leverage. They’re licking their wounds. Let’s enjoy the win for once.”

Draco laughs quietly, shaking his head. “Jasper’s got a point. Even Doyle knows when to quit.”

I shake my head slowly, fingers tracing the cold edge of the crate. “He’s not quitting. He’s changing tactics. Trust me—he’s more dangerous now that we’ve cornered him. Whatever he’s planning next, it’ll be lethal.”

Jasper sighs, but his voice softens with reluctant understanding. “You really think he’ll escalate again?”

“Not a doubt in my mind,” I reply honestly. “This isn’t about pride for him anymore. It’s survival. He’ll hit harder, smarter. He wants us to feel safe so he can catch us off guard.”

Silence settles between us, broken only by the distant echo of waves slapping against the pilings. I glance at Jasper’s thoughtful expression and soften my tone. “Look, I know you handled the strike well. But Doyle’s dangerous because he doesn’t react impulsively. He waits.”

“Like a snake,” Jasper mutters, shaking his head as if finally absorbing the seriousness of it.

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