Page 94 of The Art of Obsession

So I panic. I snap. I grab the scalpel from my pocket and plunge it into the right side of Cal’s chest, watching the white shock flash in his eyes.

Before I can second guess myself, I bolt. And escape down the balcony stairs and run onto the path between the nearest hedges. The God of Art’s deep growl thunders through the air, and I know he’s not just following me.

He’s hunting me.

Andwhenhe catches me, he will deal his punishment…tenfold.

40

“You have to let me be your salvation.”

Chapter Playlist:

“Hurt” – Nine Inch Nails

“The Devil Within” – Digital Daggers

CAL

The blade thrustsinto my chest, a deliberate strike.

Not fatal but enough to bite and remind me of her defiance. Everleigh’s eyes are wide, not with fear but with determination, and the pain in my chest is a mere echo of the fire in her gaze. She wanted this—wanted to see the grounds, to feel the air on her skin, to breathe in freedom, even if it meant drawing my blood to achieve it. She knows I won’t let her go unpunished. She knows I control everything.

Still, I can’t suppress the swell of pride beneath the sting of betrayal. She is bold, my Everleigh. Bold and spirited and maddening.

Her thin, nearly sheer dress swirls as she flees into the labyrinth of hedges, her bare feet barely brushing the ground. The blood seeping from my chest is warm, sticky, but itdoesn’t slow me. I follow her at an even pace because I know the labyrinth better than she ever could. It was designed to confound and trap, and she is no match for it—or me.

My pulse is steady as I pursue her, the pain never a hindrance.

The scent of ivy and damp earth fills my lungs as I navigate the maze, the towering hedges whispering with the wind. I hear her rapid, desperate footsteps thudding on the ground. Her breathing is ahead of me, frantic and shallow. She’s close. The chase is exhilarating despite how I know it will end. She doesn’t realize she’s running toward a dead end.

A few more moments, I find her.

She’s pressed against the hedge, her chest heaving, her hair wild around her face. There’s nowhere left to run, and she knows it. I step into the narrow space, blocking her escape, and the corner of my mouth lifts despite the ache in my chest.

“Caught you,” I say, my voice low, roughened by the chase and the pain. “And now, my rebellious Little Quill, you’ll learn what it truly means to run from me.”

She doesn’t wait for me to move. She lunges, clawing and kicking, her spirit unbroken even in the face of inevitable defeat. I catch her wrists with ease, pulling her close. She’s strong, but I am stronger, and when I throw her over my shoulder, her protests are a symphony of rage and desperation.

She pounds her fists against my back, kicks her legs, but I hold her firmly. “Scream all you like, Everleigh,” I tell her. “It won’t change where we’re going.”

She freezes, her voice breathless. “Where are you taking me, Cal? Please…just take me back to the exhibit. I’ll be…good.”

“Too late.”

Her muscles lock up, and she groans.

I carry her deeper into the grounds, toward a series of stone arches entwined with ivy and vines. The arches loom in themoonlight, ancient and solemn. At the end of the arches is the crypt. My steps slow as we approach, the weight of memory pressing against my chest heavier than the wound Everleigh inflicted.

Naomi.

The name is a ghost I carry with me always. The crypt holds her grave, a place I rarely visit, though it’s never far from my thoughts. Everleigh doesn’t know, and she doesn’t need to. Not yet. All she sees is the cold stone, the vines curling like veins across its surface, and the heavy door that waits to swallow her whole.

Her struggles intensify as I open the door, the sound of stone grinding against stone echoing in the stillness. “No,” she says, her voice breaking. “Cal, please, no, don’t?—”

Her pleas are a knife twisting in my chest, but this is necessary. She must learn. She must trust me.

The crypt is cool and dark, the air heavy with the scent of earth and stone. I set her down, holding her wrists as I secure the chains that dangle from the ceiling. Chains I believed I would never use for years but planned all the same.