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T he fire crackled in the hearth of the Ashworth Manor library, casting flickering shadows along the towering bookshelves. A cool draft seeped through the windowpanes, but Eleanor barely noticed.

She sat beside Graham, who lay on a settee, his waistcoat discarded, his white shirt stained with blood. His wound had been cleaned and bandaged, but Eleanor could still see the tension in his jaw as he leaned back, eyes closed.

He should have been resting. But Graham Sinclair was not the kind of man to sit idly by when there was a battle to be won.

Eleanor watched him, the glow of the fire illuminating the sharp angles of his face—the same face she had once believed lost to her forever. She had almost lost him again tonight.

But not this time. Not ever again.

James paced before the hearth, arms crossed, his expression thunderous. “That fool stabbed you,” he growled, shaking his head. “He isn’t just dangerous—he’s reckless.”

“And desperate,” Graham added.

Eleanor pushed her fingers through her hair. “Then we use that against him.”

James and Graham both looked at her.

She lifted her chin, resolve burning in her veins. “He thinks he’s untouchable, that he can do as he pleases without consequence. It’s time to prove him wrong.”

James arched a brow. “And how do you propose we do that?”

“I will lure him into a trap.”

The room fell silent.

James blinked. “Are you mad?”

Graham sat up sharply, wincing at the movement. “Absolutely not.”

Eleanor held up a hand before either man could object further. “Listen to me. Redgrave is arrogant. He still believes he holds power over me. He believes I fear him. And perhaps, for a time, I did.”

Graham’s expression softened, and she pressed on.

“But not anymore.” Her voice was firm, unshaken. “He said it himself—he has unfinished business. That means he won’t stop. He will keep coming for me until I am destroyed.”

James muttered a curse under his breath, rubbing a hand over his face. “Eleanor—”

She met his gaze. “You said it yourself, James. We cannot afford to wait for him to strike again. We need proof of what he’s done, something irrefutable that will ruin him forever.”

“And you intend to give him an opportunity to incriminate himself?” Graham asked.

Eleanor nodded. “Yes.”

James shook his head. “Absolutely not. It’s too dangerous.”

“It’s the only way,” she countered.

James looked to Graham for support, but he was staring at her, his expression unreadable.

Then, slowly, Graham exhaled. “You have a plan.”

It was not a question. Eleanor lifted her chin. “Yes.”

Graham’s gaze burned into hers, searching, assessing. “Then tell me.”

James threw up his hands. “Graham, you can’t seriously be considering this—”

Graham held up a hand, silencing him. “Redgrave will not stop until Eleanor is ruined. Or worse. This time he had a knife. I don’t want to give him another chance. We need to end this. Permanently.”

Eleanor swallowed. This was why she loved him. He did not try to stop her. He did not try to shield her from her own battle. He stood beside her.

She stepped closer to the table. “We know Redgrave thrives on control. He thinks he is untouchable because no one has ever dared challenge him publicly.” She straightened. “So we do it in a way he won’t anticipate.”

“Go on,” James said.

Eleanor’s hands tightened on the table’s edge. “I will arrange a private meeting with him. Somewhere controlled, somewhere we can prepare in advance. I will make him believe I am considering his offer—that I am afraid, that I am finally willing to surrender.”

Graham’s fists clenched. James swore under his breath.

Eleanor continued, “Once he feels safe, he will say something incriminating. He will reveal his intentions—whether it is blackmail, coercion, or worse. He will say something we can use against him.” She met Graham’s gaze.

“And you, James, and my father will be listening. And perhaps we should invite the constable to this gathering as well.”

James crossed his arms. “How?”

Eleanor’s eyes flickered to the ornate parlor room near the back of Ashworth Manor—the one with the hidden passage behind the bookshelves. She pointed toward it. “There. The passage behind the library leads to a concealed alcove. If you are inside, you will hear everything.”

James’s brows lifted slightly. It was a solid plan. Graham, however, was still watching her.

“You want us to listen. But what happens when Redgrave realizes he’s been trapped?”

Eleanor hitched her breath. Graham was not asking whether they would win. He was asking if she was ready to fight.

Her heartbeat slammed in her chest, but she met his gaze evenly. “Then,” she said softly, “we make sure he never has the chance to hurt anyone again.”

Silence filled the room. Then a slow smile curled the edges of Graham’s lips. Pride. Approval. And something far more dangerous.

James cracked his knuckles. “God save me, you two are a menace.”

Eleanor’s lips twitched. “Does that mean you’re in?”

James groaned. “Of course I’m in. Someone has to keep you both alive.”

Eleanor turned to Graham. His dark eyes met hers, filled with something deeper than just resolve. Something unbreakable.

“I’ll be with you,” he murmured. “Every step.”

Eleanor exhaled, something easing inside her. For the first time, she was not fighting alone.

She reached for Graham’s hand, squeezing it tightly. “This time,” she whispered, “we end it.”

And as the fire crackled in the hearth, as their plan took shape in the dim glow of the library—Eleanor knew. Redgrave’s reign of terror was about to end. And she would be the one to end it.