Chapter 418

Evelyn had no idea Alexander was watching her from the shadows.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she reached into Ethan’s pocket, retrieving his phone. With surprising steadiness, she dialed 911.

After relaying their location to the dispatcher, she answered a rapid-fire series of questions about Ethan’s condition.

"Keep him conscious," the dispatcher urged. "Talk to him. Help is on the way."

"Understood," Evelyn replied, her voice tight.

For fifteen excruciating minutes, she cradled Ethan in her arms, careful not to shift him. The dispatcher’s warning echoed in her mind—don’t move him. The knife buried in his chest was a death sentence if disturbed.

As she stared down at Ethan’s ashen face, her thoughts flickered to Alexander.

Years ago, Alexander had lain in a similar state, his chest torn open. Back then, she’d had acupuncture needles—tools to slow the bleeding, to buy him time.

Now, with nothing but her bare hands, she was powerless.

The wail of sirens cut through the night.

Evelyn exhaled shakily, her grip tightening around Ethan.

Hold on.

But the blood soaking through his shirt told a different story.

Ethan Caldwell clutched his chest, his fingers trembling against the fabric of his shirt. The pain was unbearable, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could endure it.

His eyelids grew heavy, threatening to close, but Evelyn Carter tapped his cheek lightly. "Stay awake," she urged, her voice firm yet laced with concern. "The ambulance is almost here. Just hold on a little longer, Ethan."

A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips.

"Evelyn," he rasped, his voice barely above a whisper. "I thought you despised me. Figured you'd be celebrating if I..." His words trailed off, the effort too much.

This tenderness from Evelyn was something he had never expected.

"I hated that you kept me trapped," she admitted, her fingers tightening around his. "But I never wished for this."

Her emotions were a storm inside her—anger, confusion, guilt.

No matter how complicated their past was, one undeniable truth remained: Ethan had thrown himself in front of Zachary Black’s blade to save her. If he hadn’t, she would be the one bleeding out on the cold pavement.

She couldn’t abandon him now.

"Breathe," Evelyn instructed, noticing the shallow, uneven rise and fall of his chest. "Slow and deep. Don’t gasp like that."

"Evelyn," Ethan choked out, his voice raw with pain. "If I die saving you... will you cry for me?"

Tears slipped from the corners of his eyes as his Adam’s apple bobbed weakly.

The pain was excruciating.

Ethan Caldwell's lips had lost all color, his breathing shallow. Every word he forced out felt like it drained another fragment of his fading strength.

But he couldn’t let this moment slip away.

Not when Evelyn Carter was finally here, listening.

There were things he needed to say—things he had to say.

Because if he didn’t say them now, he might never get another chance.

Evelyn stiffened at his question. Her brows knitted together in confusion. "Why would you even ask something like that?"

His fingers trembled as he reached for her. "It matters. Just answer me, Evelyn. Please."

She hesitated, then exhaled. "Maybe. But if I did, it would only be—"

His fingertip pressed lightly against her lips, silencing the word "guilt" before it could escape.

"Just say you would. That’s enough for me." A faint, bittersweet smile touched his mouth. "The reason doesn’t matter."

Evelyn didn’t respond.

She could see it—the way he was clinging to illusions, weaving his own fragile fantasy where her tears meant something more than regret.

But she didn’t have time for his delusions.

Her grip tightened around his phone as she dialed a number, her focus razor-sharp.

Alexander Whitmore.

She had to find him.

Ethan watched her, his expression unreadable.

He didn’t try to stop her.

The sudden ringing of a phone shattered the silence.

Evelyn spun around instinctively.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Alexander stood mere feet away, his piercing gaze locking onto hers.

She hadn't realized he'd been following her this whole time.

The weight of his presence pressed against her chest like a physical force.

His phone continued buzzing insistently in his hand, the screen illuminating his sharp features.

Evelyn's fingers trembled at her sides.

How much had he heard?

The air between them crackled with unspoken tension.

Alexander took a deliberate step forward.

Evelyn's pulse skyrocketed.

The distance between them seemed to shrink and expand simultaneously.

His lips parted as if to speak—

Then the phone rang again.

Louder this time.

More insistent.

A stark reminder of the world outside this charged moment.

Evelyn watched his jaw tighten.

The way his fingers flexed around the device.

The battle between answering and continuing their silent standoff played across his face.

She held her breath.

Waiting.

Always waiting.

The space between them hummed with years of unsaid words.

Of buried emotions.

Of secrets too heavy to name.

Then—

Alexander lifted the phone to his ear without breaking eye contact.

"Whitmore."

That single word, spoken in that familiar commanding tone, shattered the spell.

Evelyn exhaled sharply.

The moment was gone.

But the electricity remained.

Crackling.

Dangerous.

And entirely undeniable.