Chapter 7 Chapter 7
EVELYN POV
The hallway outside the meeting room felt too narrow, the lights too bright, the air too thin. Daniel didn’t speak at first. He just held the door open and waited until I stepped far enough away from Lila’s reach before letting it close. The soft click of the door felt like the end of something and the beginning of something worse.
His eyes searched my face. “Are you alright?”
I nodded, though the truth trembled inside me. My heart was pounding so loudly it felt like it echoed through the hall. “She wasn’t going to hurt me,” I said, trying to convince myself as much as him.
Daniel shook his head. “You don’t understand her.”
“Then help me understand,” I whispered.
He looked away for a moment, jaw clenched, as if deciding how much truth I could handle. “You shouldn’t be alone with her. Ever. Not in a room. Not at night. Not anywhere where she feels cornered.”
“She didn’t look cornered,” I said softly.
He exhaled shakily. “That’s the problem. She never looks cornered. She only feels it. And when she does, she reacts.”
His meaning hung heavily between us.
We walked toward the exit together. The building was quiet, every sound amplified by the stillness. My footsteps were too loud. My breathing too shallow. When we stepped out into the cool night air, I finally felt like I could breathe again.
Darkness had swallowed most of the campus. Only scattered lampposts lit the paths, stretching long shadows across the ground. Students were nowhere in sight. The silence pressed against my skin, pulling goosebumps up my arms.
Daniel kept his voice low. “What did she say to you?”
I hesitated. “She told me to stop asking questions.”
He nodded slowly. “She would.”
“She said I was being persistent. Curious.”
“And she hates that in other people,” he said. “Especially when the truth threatens her.”
A shiver ran down my spine. “Daniel, she had Alex’s bracelet.”
He stopped walking. His eyes softened with something like grief, but anger flickered underneath. “I know.”
“How long?”
He looked down, his voice barely audible. “Long enough.”
The answer was vague, but it cut deep.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked.
He lifted his gaze to mine. “Because she was waiting for you to notice.”
A cold realization crept through me. “She wanted me to find it.”
“To see what she wanted you to see,” he said. “To confuse you. Distract you. Pull you deeper. It’s how she works.”
I wrapped my arms around myself as the wind drifted across the quad. “Did she hurt you?” I asked softly.
Daniel looked away again. The bruise along his jaw caught the glow of a passing light. He didn’t answer with words at first. The silence stretched too long.
Finally, he said quietly, “Sometimes she does things when she is angry. When she panics. When she thinks someone is slipping away from her. Alex was one of those people.”
The world tilted slightly. “She hurt Alex.”
“I think she did more than that,” he said. “I just don’t know how far it went.”
I swallowed hard. Every instinct told me to run. To hide. To protect myself. But running would mean giving up on Alex. And I couldn’t.
“What do we do now?” I asked.
Daniel stepped closer. Close enough that I could see the worry tightening his features. “You need to be careful. Tonight wasn’t her being angry. It was her testing you.”
My heart twisted. “And did I fail?”
“No,” he said. “You scared her.”
The idea felt impossible. “How would I scare her?”
“Because you didn’t give her what she wanted,” he said. “Control.”
A soft rustle came from the trees nearby. Daniel stiffened instantly, pulling me slightly behind him. His reaction made my blood run cold.
“We aren’t alone,” he whispered.
I scanned the shadows. The night swallowed everything too easily. The leaves rustled again, followed by a soft click of heels on pavement. My breath hitched.
Lila stepped out from behind the trees.
Not smiling.
Not composed.
Just watching.
Her pale coat glowed under the lamplight, her blonde hair drifting with the wind. Her eyes locked on us with a calmness that felt unnatural. She didn’t look angry. She didn’t even look surprised.
She looked disappointed.
Almost hurt.
The sight of her made the hairs on my arms rise. She walked forward slowly, her heels tapping softly against the path.
Daniel tensed. “Lila, go home.”
She ignored him, her eyes fixed on me. “You left so suddenly,” she said calmly. “We weren’t finished.”
“Lila,” Daniel said warningly, “leave her alone.”
She tilted her head, her expression unreadable. “Why? She and I were having a lovely conversation.”
“You threatened her.”
“I warned her,” she corrected sharply.
Her gaze returned to me. Something fragile flickered in it, like a glimmer of something she was trying to hide. “Evelyn, you should be with people who understand you. Not people who use you.”
Her meaning struck me instantly.
“Daniel isn’t using me,” I said.
Her smile returned, small and brittle. “Everyone uses someone.”
The wind picked up. The trees behind her swayed. A dark cloud slid across the moon, casting the quad in heavier shadow.
“You don’t know what you’re getting pulled into,” she whispered. “Alex didn’t understand either. He tried to leave. People always try to leave.”
Her voice wavered on the last word.
Daniel moved slightly closer to me. “Lila.”
She blinked slowly, as if returning from somewhere far away. Then she stepped back, her expression turning cold and perfect again. “Go home, Evelyn. If you know what is good for you, you will stop before you break something that cannot be fixed.”
She stepped into the shadows again and disappeared behind the trees without another word.
The moment she was gone, Daniel exhaled sharply. He ran a hand through his hair, tension radiating off him.
“She is slipping,” he said quietly. “This is worse than before.”
“Before what?” I asked.
He looked at me, his voice hollow. “Before Alex died.”
The night closed in around us like a tightening fist. My chest ached with fear, confusion, grief that refused to settle.
“Daniel,” I whispered, “what aren’t you telling me?”
He hesitated only a moment before answering. “Alex wasn’t the only person she ever tried to control.”
My stomach twisted painfully. “Who else?”
Daniel met my eyes.
“Me.”