Chapter 161

[Eveny’s POV]

I left the drawing room without sparing any of them a second glance.

It was with a mixture of unbridled anger and my own sense of shame that I tore myself away. I needed to leave.

I needed to get away from Samantha and Liam before I could do anything else. My emotions were scattered and far too unpredictable for even myself to control. I had no doubt that both my hands were sore and very likely torn from having smashed that picture frame.

Yet, I was still too numb to feel any of it.

I pressed a hand to my chest to bear down on the pain that swelled around my heart. Deep down, I knew I wasn't ready to face Samantha. But out of the three, she was the one who did the least amount of damage—physically speaking.

Of course, that didn’t excuse her guilt in the situation. She was just as guilty and responsible as the rest of them. What frightened me the most was that I was fully prepared to carry out my initial intentions. Had Alexander not stopped me, I would have very likely taken that shard of glass to Samantha’s face.

The darkest, most chilling parts of my mind, parts I didn’t know existed, wanted to make her feel the pain that I felt. I wanted her to have to live in the same torment.

One thing I hadn’t accounted for was just how heavy the mask on my face felt. It was as if I was bearing the weight of my situation as well as the reputation Alexander had placed behind it.

I needed a break. The pressure on my chest made it increasingly difficult to breathe.

“Evelyn!”

Hearing Alexander call after me made the pressure in my chest double. I refused to stop moving. All I wanted to do was return back to my room so I could finally remove the mask.

But Alexander was persistent.

“Evelyn. Evelyn, stop! We need to talk,” he said demandingly.

“I don’t have it in me to do this right now,” I told him briskly.

I suddenly felt the familiar pull of his hand wrap around my forearm, causing me to stop. I turned to look over my shoulder and glared.

“I said we need to talk,” he stated.

I was oddly surprised to find that there wasn’t a single ounce of anger in his expression but rather worry. I could see his eyes were mainly lingering over the piece that was partially covering my face. Now that I thought about it, I hadn’t considered asking him if I could use it or not.

“I told you, I don’t have the energy to talk right now.”

“Take off that mask,” he ordered.

My throat grew tight. “No.”

I could see the anger starting to rise in him. With whatever strength I had, I roughly pulled myself out of his hold and made off toward my room. I made my strides wider in hopes of getting there quicker.

“Evelyn, I will not let you hide yourself this way!” he shouted. “Goddamnit, stop!”

The moment I reached my room, I swiftly closed the door and locked it behind me. It wasn’t long before I felt the harsh thud of his hand banging against the panel.

“You’re out of your mind if you think I can be stopped by a single fucking door!” he cursed bitterly.

I sucked in a sharp breath and shouted back. “You break down that door and I will leave this house!”

Alexander didn’t try to open the door, or even knock after that. Although, I heard him let out a long, defeated sigh.

“This isn’t over,” he grumbled.

...

I didn’t like fighting with Alexander. It was the last thing I wanted to do given all that’s happened. But at the same time, I couldn’t bring myself to let go of the awful feelings that haunted me.

It made exiting in the Kingston Pack almost impossible. What was worse was that I seriously felt like I was neglecting my responsibilities as Luna.

A few days had gone by since I nearly clawed out Samantha’s face. I had no idea what became of her or Liam since I walked out of that meeting. I should have at least tried to inquire about it from Oliver. God only knew that Alexander wouldn’t have made the interaction easy if I were to have asked him.

Yes, I knew it was childish to try and avoid him. Hell, I was the one who first suggested that the two of us talk.

Yeah, but I didn’t think that having Ian remove the gauze and stitches was going to make my life exponentially harder to deal with!

I had to learn to live my life as I always had just within the mask that I now wore. That one morning with Samantha’s unwelcome presence, was merely a trial run as to how I was going to continue onward. Only a select few saw me in the mask the first time.

I knew that if I was going to get used to this new idea, I was going to have to be somewhat active again. I avoided the dining room at all costs and went about prepping my own meals in the kitchen. No one stopped me or even tried to interact with me.

It hurt.

But I couldn’t blame them. Seeing me in that mask didn’t exactly give off a warm and friendly energy. And I still believed it was better than walking around with my scars visible.

My days were mostly spent outside around the greenhouse. At the very least, it was peaceful and I didn’t feel like I was constantly under someone’s curious gaze.

That morning, I’d made myself a strong cup of tea and headed straight through the back patio. As I took my usual route down to the greenhouse, I noticed I was being approached by two of Alexander’s soldiers.

I held my tea close and stopped walking.

I fought back the urge to turn around. “Yes?” I asked.

“Evelyn, a majority of the camp has heard about what happened to you at the Silverwood Estate,” one of them said softly.

My stomach lurched as he went on.

“We want to extend our condolences on the matter and hope that your recovery continues to go smoothly.”

The corner of my mouth lifted upward. “Thank you,” I whispered. I felt my cheeks flush under their gazes. “You’re probably wondering what the hell I’m doing wearing Alexander’s mask.”

“The thought may have crossed our minds,” the soldier said jokingly.

For the first time in what felt like ages, I laughed. It was a weak laugh, but it made my insides flutter with ease rather than dread.

“You see, most of my injuries have already healed. It’s just that I ended up being badly scarred from the attack and I...”

Both soldiers shook their heads. “You don’t need to explain yourself to us. Not everyone has an easy time accepting the pain and the hurt.”

“Take it from us,” the other said. “Most of the other soldiers are covered in marks and scars. It doesn’t make you any less of a person.”

“He’s right. If anything, all they do is tell a story.”

All I kept hearing was Wendy’s words echoing in my mind.

“You were the target of several people’s rage and hatred. You know what else that makes you? A survivor.”

“You’re right,” I told them.

“There’s actually something else we wanted to talk to you about,” they said. “Sort of like an offer...”