Page 25 of Her Wicked Promise (The Devil’s Plaything #2)

Robin

E va looks smaller, somehow, in the sterile white bed, her dark hair making her face seem very pale. The bandage on her temple is a stark reminder of how close I came to losing her tonight.

She looks very serious. Very sad.

One phone call from Leon almost shattered my world. Eva’s been attacked. She’s in the hospital . The words had sent ice through my veins, the same cold terror I felt whenever we had to rush Maisie to the emergency room.

That’s when I knew.

The fear clawing at my throat, the way my heart stopped when I thought she might be dead—this isn’t just affection or attraction or desire.

This is love. Real, consuming, terrifying love.

The kind that makes you realize you’d rather die than live in a world without that person in it.

That bone-deep terror of losing someone who matters more than your own life.

That’s what love is, isn’t it? When someone else’s mortality becomes more frightening than your own.

Eva reaches out to take my hand, and I squeeze hers back. But there’s something heavy in her expression. Something that makes my stomach clench with dread.

“You should rest,” I whisper.

“Robin, we need to talk.”

And then I know what she’s about to say, clear as day. “Don’t do this,” I say at once. “Please don’t do this again.”

Eva’s voice is soft but firm, each word carefully measured. “It’s too dangerous. For you. For your family. My world—it’s all sharp corners, Robin. And if you stay near me, it will cut you and everyone you love to pieces.”

“We can figure it out,” I say desperately, gripping her hand tighter. “We can.”

But Eva shakes her head, and there’s no anger in her face. Just that terrible, gentle sadness that scares me more than her cold mask ever did.

“We could keep our relationship secret—just between us,” I say, the words tumbling out in my desperation. “I could travel quietly to see you, no one would have to know?—”

“They would know,” Eva murmurs. “And you’re already a target. You’ve been one since the moment I bought you at that auction. And that’s on me.”

I think of tonight’s attack, of the blood on Eva’s temple, of how easily I could be sitting next to a corpse instead of a living woman. But I push the thought away, because admitting Eva’s right means losing her, and I can’t bear that.

“We could be more careful,” I try again. “More security, more discretion?—”

“Robin.” Eva’s amber eyes are soft, patient. “Do you know what I thought about tonight, when those bullets were flying?”

I shake my head, afraid to hear the answer.

“I thought about you in that car with me. And I thought about your family, too. What would it be like if they were caught in crossfire meant for me?” She takes a slow, sad breath before saying, “I can’t live with that. I won’t.”

The room falls silent except for the distant sounds of the hospital. I stare at our joined hands, fighting back tears.

“There has to be a way,” I whisper.

Eva reaches up with her free hand to cup my cheek, her thumb brushing away a tear I didn’t realize had escaped. “I love you, Robin.”

My breath stutters. The words I’ve been longing to hear, delivered like a death sentence.

“I’ve fallen in love with you, too,” I say, my voice breaking. “I love you so much it terrifies me. I can’t…I don’t know how to let you go.”

For a moment, Eva’s composure cracks. Her eyes glisten. “I love you so very much, little bird.”

Hope flares in my chest. If we love each other, if we both want this, surely we can find a way?—

“That’s why this has to end.”

The hope dies as quickly as it was born.

“No,” I insist. “No, we can figure this out. We can find a compromise. Please, Eva, we can?—”

Eva squeezes my hand. “If anything happened to you because of me—because of my world—I’d never forgive myself.” Her voice is barely audible. “I’d rather lose you and know you’re safe than keep you and watch the darkness destroy everything beautiful about you.”

We stay like that for a long moment, breathing the same air, sharing the same space one last time.

When Eva pulls her hand away, the moment breaks. “I’m going back to Europe. You’re staying here. The money’s already in your account, as I said—ten million. You’re free.”

The clinical way she says it, like we’re dissolving a business partnership instead of ripping our hearts out, makes everything worse. I’d almost prefer her cruelty to this gentle devastation.

“I don’t want your money,” I say, my voice thick with tears. “I want you .”

“And I want you alive.” Eva’s voice is steady, final. “I want you safe. I want your brothers and sisters to grow up without looking over their shoulders for threats that exist because of me.”

I know she’s right. God help me, I know she’s right.

The attack tonight proved what I’ve been trying to ignore—Eva’s world doesn’t have room for kindergarten teachers and sick little girls and teenagers who just want to finish high school.

Her enemies don’t distinguish between guilty and innocent.

They’ll hurt my family and me to hurt her, and she’ll blame herself forever.

But knowing she’s right doesn’t make it hurt any less.

“I can’t do this,” I say tearily. “I can’t say goodbye to you.”

“Then don’t,” Eva says softly. “Just go. Live your life. Be happy.”

I want to argue more, to find some magical solution that lets us have love without consequences. But the pragmatic part of my mind—the part that’s kept my family alive this long—knows that Eva is right. This has to end before someone else I love gets killed because of it.

I rise on shaky legs.

Eva sits rigid in the hospital bed, her hands clenched into fists in her lap. She’s trying to be strong for both of us, but I can see the cracks.

And the one gift I can give to her is to not make it harder than it has to be.

“Thank you,” I say. “I’ll never forget you. Ever.”

I leave without looking back, because if I do, I’ll never have the strength to walk away.

The hospital corridor stretches endlessly before me like some hallucinatory never-ending passage, lights buzzing overhead like angry insects. Each step takes me further from the woman I love and closer to a life that suddenly feels impossibly empty.

We’re both broken now. But we’re both alive.

In Eva’s world, I guess that’s the closest thing to a happy ending we were ever going to get.