Page 18 of His Ruthless Match (Below #3)

The skirmish blurred into a frenzy of movement. I pounced on another rebel just as he raised a jagged blade imbued with sickly green energy. I slammed him to the ground, and the blade slipped from his grasp.

I shifted back into my human form and pinned him down. My dagger was in my hand before I even thought about it. “Who’s your leader?” I growled, pressing the blade against skin hard enough to draw blood.

He writhed beneath me. Frustrated, I yanked his mask off.

He had no face. No eyes, no nose, no mouth—just a smooth expanse of flesh where a face should’ve been. I recoiled, nearly falling back as the faceless thing twisted in my grip.

“What the actual fuck?”

The thing bucked against me. I tightened my grip on its neck and twisted. Its head jerked unnaturally to the side, but that didn’t slow it down.

“Gods,” I muttered. I plunged the blade into its chest, over and over, each strike sinking deep but doing nothing to stop it. It writhed and clawed at me in an unrelenting frenzy.

“What are you?” I snarled, yanking my blade free one last time. The thing didn’t answer, of course—it had no mouth to speak with. The smooth surface of its “face” seemed to stretch and ripple, as if mocking me.

A low whistle cut through the air. Izo.

“That’s enough, Jareth,” he called, his tone oddly calm considering the situation. “You’re wasting your energy.”

I glanced back at him. “You’ve seen one of these before?”

Izo nodded grimly. “Yeah. And if you’re smart, you’ll stop trying to kill it and just contain it.”

Contain it. Right. Like that wasn’t a fucking nightmare in itself.

Growling, I shoved the faceless thing away. It scrambled to its feet and melted into the chaos. I didn’t chase it. For the first time in a long time, I was thoroughly freaked the fuck out.

The market was smoldering by the time the rebels dispersed.

The acrid stench of cursed blood hung in the air, mingling with the faint metallic tang of fear.

The traders who hadn’t fled were either tending to the wounded or scowling at the mess.

Loyalists clustered in groups, shaken but trying to maintain a semblance of order.

I gripped the collar of a captured smuggler—a wiry man with a sharp face and even sharper eyes. His hands were bound, and he was bleeding from a cut on his temple, but he still managed to look defiant.

“Talk,” I growled, shoving him against a scorched stone wall. “Who’s backing the rebels? Someone’s supplying them with blood bombs, and it’s not the riffraff they’ve got running these streets.”

The smuggler spat at my boots. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him forward, my nose nearly touching his. “Don’t insult me. I know you’ve been moving artifacts and supplies for them. Who’s paying you?”

His eyes darted to the side, panic flickering behind his bravado. “Look, man, I don’t know names. I just follow orders.”

I slammed him back against the wall. “You’re lying. If you want to walk out of here in one piece, you’d better start talking.”

The fear in his eyes deepened, but he shook his head. “They’ll kill me if I say anything.”

I leaned in closer, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “And what do you think I’m going to do if you don’t?”

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I swear, I don’t know much. They keep it tight. All I know is there’s someone powerful pulling the strings. Someone with deep pockets and connections. I don’t know who.”

The fear in his voice was real enough for me to believe him. Whoever was behind this had the smuggler terrified. I released him, and he crumpled to the ground.

“Get the fuck out of my sight. If I see you running supplies for the rebels again, you’ll wish I’d killed you here.”

The smuggler scrambled to his feet and took off, disappearing into the alleyways. I exhaled heavily, the weight of the situation settling on my shoulders. This wasn’t just a faction uprising—it was organized, calculated, and dangerous.

When I got back to The Shadow’s estate, I was still itching for a fight. I marched through the halls, ignoring the wary glances from the guards, and found The Shadow in his study, seated behind his massive desk.

“Why the hell have you kept this from me?” I demanded as I slammed the door shut behind me.

The Shadow looked up from the document he was reading, his dark eyes calm but sharp. “Good evening to you too, Jareth.”

“Don’t,” I snapped. “The Crimson Dominion is a fucking war zone. Blood bombs, riots. I just watched an entire market get leveled. You knew it was this bad, and you didn’t think to loop me in?”

The Shadow steepled his fingers. “I need your focus on Eva.”

“This is out of control. You’re telling me you want me babysitting your sister while the Crimson Dominion burns?”

His gaze didn’t waver. “Yes. Because as bad as things are there, they’re contained. I have boots on the ground. The magistrate is securing the borders, and Izo is managing the factions. This conflict isn’t spilling over yet.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” I muttered, running a hand through my hair. “There was a bomb. Innocent people died.”

“I know. That’s why I sent you. I needed an unbiased report. Izo’s doing his best, but I can’t rely solely on his perspective. I trust your observations.”

The unexpected compliment caught me off guard, and I frowned. “And?”

“And I’m listening,” he said. “If you think I need to shift my strategy, tell me.”

I sighed, my anger ebbing slightly. “You need to be prepared for this to escalate. Whoever’s pulling the rebels’ strings is gunning for power, and they’ve got resources.”

The Shadow nodded. “Noted. I’ll formulate my plans accordingly.” He stood, his imposing presence filling the room. “Now, go check on Eva.”

I scowled. “She’s fine. I just saw her this morning.”

“She hasn’t responded to my texts for over an hour,” he said, his voice tight with worry. “She’s stubborn, but she knows better than to ignore me.”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “She’s probably working and forgot to check her phone.”

“Humor me,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Check on her. Now.”

I clenched my jaw but nodded. “Fine. But if she’s just ignoring you, I’m telling her to keep it up.”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”

I knocked on Eva’s door. No response. I knocked harder. Still nothing. I ground my teeth as I rapped on the door a third time, putting enough force behind it to sting my knuckles. Silence.

My patience was wearing thin. Fast. Cursing, I twisted the knob and let myself in. Every surface gleamed, every piece of furniture was positioned just so. It was annoyingly spotless, more like a showroom than a home. Her subtle floral scent hung in the air, soft and elusive, like the woman herself.

At first glance, everything seemed normal. No signs of a struggle, no overturned furniture or shattered glass. But then I saw the bracelet on the kitchen counter. It looked like it had decided to take a day off from its actual job—keeping her alive.

I cursed under my breath and snatched it up, shoving it into my pocket. Of course she’d ditch the one thing designed to keep her safe. Classic Eva. The frustration simmered, bubbling just below the surface as I pulled out my phone and flipped through her calendar.

Private Event, one hour. The entry glared back at me, unhelpfully vague.

“ What the hell are you up to now? ” I muttered, scrolling through her other appointments. Nothing else jumped out at me. No clues, no explanations.

Plan B it was. Thank fuck I’d had the foresight to plant a tracker in her purse. I opened the app, and a small, blinking dot appeared on the screen. The signal was steady, and not at all where I’d expected it to be.

The public library?

I blinked at the map, double-checking the coordinates. Yep, she was at the damn library. My eyebrows shot up, and a humorless chuckle escaped me. “ Really, Eva? ” The woman was full of surprises, but this was out of left field.

I walked to the library, and the sight of the building set my teeth on edge. Ivy crept up the brick facade, giving it an air of faded grandeur. The massive stone steps leading up to the entrance were worn smooth by decades of foot traffic, and the arched windows glinted in the sunlight.

I took a moment to assess. The hell was Eva doing here?

She didn’t strike me as a bookworm—at least not in the romantic, window-seat-dwelling sense.

In my mind, her version of research involved coffee-fueled nights at her desk in her office, glaring at her screen like she could will it to give her answers faster.

Still, the tracker didn’t lie. I checked it again, noting the dot was stationary. She was somewhere inside.

The inside of the library smelled like a mix of old paper and varnish, the air cool and quiet in that particular way that demanded reverence.

Shelves stretched endlessly, the aisles shadowed despite the natural light streaming through the tall windows.

The soft murmur of voices and the faint rustle of pages being turned barely registered as I weaved through the maze.

The tracker guided me to a secluded spot in the back corner.

Eva sat by the window, her legs tucked beneath her, completely absorbed in a book. Sunlight spilled over her, catching the warm tones of her skin and the sheen of her hair. She had her chin propped on one hand, her brow furrowed in concentration.

I stood there for a moment, watching her. So, this was where she liked to hide. There was something almost disarming about seeing her like this, so unaware of the world around her. It was... humanizing in a way I hadn’t allowed myself to consider before.