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I lie back, staring at the ceiling, letting the echoes of what we’ve shared wash over me.
A second later, I roll off the bed, every muscle protesting as I stagger over to where my phone lies discarded on the dresser. Thumbing through the contacts, I find the one labelled ‘Dad’. My finger hovers over the call button. This isn’t just a check-in. This is me dragging them into the chaos—the mess we’ve been wading through, the fight to reclaim what’s rightfully hers.
“Fuck it,” I breathe out and press the green icon. She can yell at me later, and I know she fucking will.
“Charles?” Dad’s voice comes through, all business, always. “About time.”
“Yeah, figured you’d be up to speed.”
“In your words, if you’d be so kind.”
With a sigh, I rub my hand over my face and recount the details of last night.
Silence stretches across the line, heavy and expectant.
“Ever needs to be brought back to her rightful place.”
“Oh?”
“Ever Knight has our support. We’re already setting things in motion.”
I want to ask why, but I’m afraid of the answer. I’m afraid that this is on their to-do list because, without it, they think she isn’t good enough for me. So I don’t ask. All I do is murmur, “Thanks.”
“Keep us updated on any developments,” Dad says, a commander rallying his troops. “And Charles? Protect her.”
His words startle me into nearly dropping the phone. “Count on it.”
He snorts, getting the pun as it was intended. They may be harsh taskmasters, but in my weird, fractured way, I love them as I know they love me in their twisted, fucked up way.
“Speak soon.” I hang up and toss the phone onto the bed, its soft thud barely audible. A weight lifts off my shoulders, not gone, but lighter. It’s a start, a crack in the armour of tradition and bullshit that holds Ever back.
Ever’s fight is mine now, too, and I play for keeps.
23
DAMIEN
Tonight’s the night. The big one where everything changes for Ever, and I’m right here with her. Excitement buzzes in my veins like a live wire, but there’s this gnawing knot in my stomach that won’t let go. It’s not fear—not exactly. It’s more like anticipation. The good kind because I know when it’s all over, she’ll be on top where she belongs, and we’ll have her back.
“Damien, do you think this looks okay?” Ever’s voice pulls me out of my head. I turn to look at her, standing in front of the full-length mirror. She’s already breath-taking, but tonight, she needs to look untouchable, like the queen she is about to become.
“Here, let me.” My fingers are steady as I help her adjust the thin strap on her black dress, making sure it sits perfectly on her shoulders.
“Thanks,” she murmurs, eyes meeting mine in the mirror. There’s an edge to her green gaze, fierce and ready to take on the world. I can’t help but feel proud—proud of her strength, her nerve, her sheer will to rise above the hand she’s been dealt.
“You look...” I search for the right word. “Powerful.”
A smile flickers across her lips, and she turns, the dress swirling around her ankles with the movement. “Good. That’s exactly what I need to be.”
“More than good. Perfect.”
“Damien, I’m—“ She looks away, chewing her lip.
“Hey.” I lift her chin gently, so she has to face me again. “You’ve got this. You’re going to walk in there and show them all the queen you were born to be.”
Her smile is grateful, and I can tell she doesn’t need words of comfort—she needs action. So, I give her the final boost, the last touch to her outfit. I reach for the circlet, delicate yet unyielding, and carefully place it upon her head. It’s a crown in its own right, a precursor to the thorns she’ll soon wear.
She looks up with a smile. “Wow. Fancy.”
