CHAPTER 48: THE DEVIL’S FAVORITE QUEEN

(Theo Vinter’s POV—Warehouse)

Evelina Hartgrave.

The rumored witch. The villainess. The girl was whispered about in gilded halls as if she were a curse carved into marble.

The first time I heard her name, I didn’t think much of it. Another heiress with too much money, too much pride, and too little sense. A typical jealous fiancée who couldn’t handle her man glancing at another woman.

Boring.

Even when I met her for the first time... nothing earth-shattering changed.

Instead, that fragile flower, Sera Hartgrave, caught my attention. Soft voice. Pretty smiles. Eyes that begged to be protected.

Adorable.

I wanted Sera in my grip—to cage her, dangle her, and crush her slowly between my fingers. A delicate thing built to shatter beautifully.

And then—there she was.

Sera Hartgrave, kneeling in the middle of a crosswalk, rescued a pathetic kitten while cars screeched around her.

Foolish. Sweet. Breakable.

And I thought, yes. That one is mine.

I even walked the righteous path for her. Bought her a mermaid necklace—even though Evelina Hartgrave’s eyes had lingered on it with a hunger she tried to hide.

But I wanted to be fair then. Decent. Romantic, even. But the moment I sat across from Evelina in that meeting room and she dared to talk to me without blinking—everything inside me snapped.

Her eyes. Those cursed eyes.

Yellow-green, sharp as a serpent’s, glowing with a blood-soaked aura. Eyes that said she could slit a man’s throat without lifting a finger.

In that instant... I felt something tear inside me. A string. A damn forced fate. A cage. Something I wasn’t aware existed—broke.

For the first time in my life, I walked toward someone instead of away.

It felt like stepping out of a prison I didn’t know I’d been born into. And she—Evelina Hartgrave—was the one who freed me.

Sera? That fragile little flower?

I didn’t want her anymore.

I didn’t want to cage her. I didn’t want to destroy her. Because beside Evelina... she looked like a paper doll wearing borrowed diamonds.

Evelina?

I didn’t want to destroy her either.

No.

I wanted to be destroyed by her.

I wanted those killer eyes on me. I wanted that venomous smile aimed my way. I wanted her teeth, her claws, and her wrath.

And the day she split twelve assassins apart to save me?

I remember the blood. The screams. Her standing above the corpses like a queen risen from the underworld. Her chest rising and falling, eyes burning with feral calculation.

And I—Theo Vinter—the man the underworld fears—felt my knees weaken.

That day, one clear, savage truth carved itself into my bones:

"She’s mine."

Not Sera. Not the sweet girl I once thought I wanted. Not the fragile kitten-saver.

No.

Evelina.

The woman who could kill without blinking. The woman who walked through fire with a smirk. The woman who looked at fate and told it to kneel.

She was the one I wanted.

I didn’t give a damn about the ten thousand gold. If she asked me for ten million, I would’ve laid it at her feet. If she asked for my empire, I would’ve handed her the throne. If she asked for a kingdom, I would’ve built her one atop the bones of anyone who defied her.

Because the truth is simple:

Evelina Hartgrave is not a woman a man dates. She is a woman a man worships. And I—I intend to worship her properly.

And now?

Now I want her even more.

Especially when she stepped—no, graced—her heel down on Kael Valtore’s hand with the elegance of a queen executing a traitor.

A sickening crack echoed through the warehouse.

"AAAGHHH—!!! YOU—YOU DAMN WITCH—I’LL KILL YOU—!!" Kael shrieked, voice breaking.

Evelina sighed.

Actually sighed.

"He’s so boring," she muttered, brushing imaginary dust off her heel as if she had just stepped on spilled wine instead of Kael’s fingers.

I smirked in the shadows. Smoke curled around my fingers as I flicked ash to the floor.

She looked divine in dim light—sharp. Unforgiving. Unreachable.

A woman sculpted from storm clouds and blood.

I held up the cigarette lazily. "Do you want a smoke?"

She shot me a flat stare colder than winter steel.

"I have no intention of harming myself," she replied. "I love myself."

My lips twitched. Rowan, ever her loyal hound, stood at her side waiting for her next command.She didn’t even look at him when she spoke.

"Rowan," she said, voice clipped. "Tie him to a chair."

"Yes, Madam."

He grabbed Kael by the collar and dragged him across the floor like a sack of rotten grain.

Kael kicked, thrashed, and foamed at the mouth. "LET ME GO! IF YOU HURT ME—THE VALTORES WILL—THEY WILL KILL YOU BOTH!!"

His voice cracked, desperation lacing every word.

Pathetic. He looked like a dog that realized its bark didn’t work anymore.

Evelina blinked at him, bored.

"Rowan," she said, sighing as if discussing weather, "tape his mouth too. He’s too loud."

"Hmph—mmph—!!" The tape slapped over Kael’s lips, muffling his frantic screeching.

Rowan strapped him to the chair with clean, military precision—wrists tied tight behind him, ankles locked, head forced back.

Kael thrashed.

Still thrashed.

Still—Still wiggling like a dying fish.

Evelina stepped forward.

Slow. Measured. Every click of her heel is a countdown to destruction.

She stopped in front of him.

Tilted her head.

And—SLAP!!!!

Her hand cracked across his face so sharply the sound echoed around the metal walls like a gunshot.

Kael’s head whipped sideways. Blood burst from his lip and dripped down his chin. Evelina leaned down, voice low and venomous.

"Even with your mouth shut," she murmured, "you still manage to wiggle like a pathetic raccoon."

Kael froze.

Rowan inhaled quietly. I exhaled smoke in a slow, appreciative drag.

And Evelina—Evelina looked bored and beautiful.

As if she hadn’t just broken the CEO of the Valtore Empire with her bare hand. She turned slightly, eyes glinting under the blood-red warehouse lights.

"Oh, don’t look at me like that," she said, flicking a glance toward me and Rowan. "He’s the one who wanted a game. I’m simply playing my part."

My lips curled into a feral, delighted smile.

Because this?

This was the real Evelina Hartgrave.

The woman the world feared. The woman’s fate bent around. The woman who could make Kael Valtore—a man who bought half the police force—beg for his life with only a heel and a slap.

And as Kael trembled in the chair, tears streaking down his taped mouth... I realized something very clear:

Tonight wasn’t about revenge.

Or justice.

Or payback.

It was Evelina reclaiming the throne she should never have lost.

And God help anyone who tries to take it from her again.

She stepped toward the metal table Rowan had prepared—clean, organized, lethal.

Knives of all shapes. A gun with a silencer. Medical tools meant for torture, not healing. A tray of scalpels that caught the dim warehouse light like smiling teeth.

Evelina scanned them with idle interest, as if choosing jewelry before a gala. Finally, she picked up a small, thin knife—delicate in appearance, deadly in intent.

Her fingers traced the edge.

Then she turned to Kael.

"Didn’t I tell you," she began, her voice low, smooth, and freezing, "that if you ever wanted anything from me... especially saving your useless, collapsing company

..."

Her eyes narrowed, a slow smile curving at the edges.

"...you should kneel. And beg."

Kael’s breath hitched beneath the tape, his eyes going wide. Evelina twirled the knife between her fingers with the kind of grace only a woman born to destroy could muster.

"But instead," she whispered, taking one controlled step toward him, "you sent assassins to kill me."

She stopped right in front of him.

Leaned down. Her face inches from his. Her eyes were burning with something ancient, dominant, and terrifyingly calm.

"I almost died because of you, Kael."

Her voice didn’t crack. Didn’t tremble. Didn’t waver.

That made it colder.

"But thankfully," she continued, flicking a glance at Rowan, "my bodyguard has more brain cells than you ever did."

Rowan bowed slightly, expressionless. Kael whimpered beneath the tape.

"But do you know what truly pissed me off, Kael?" She crouched a little—level with him.Her fingers gripped his jaw, forcing his terrified eyes to meet hers.

"It wasn’t your betrayal. It wasn’t your threats. It wasn’t even the assassins."

Her smile vanished.

What replaced it was—dark. Heavy. Unforgiving.

"It was when I saw you..." Her voice curled into quiet fury. "...playing the victim. Pretending to be injured. Letting the world cage me while you sat comfortably watching me suffer."

Her hand tightened painfully around his jaw.

"That," she hissed, "is when you crossed the line."

Kael tried to jerk away—Too late.

Evelina stood up straight—STAB!!!

The knife sank into his thigh with a wet, brutal sound. Kael howled through the tape, body jerking violently against the ropes.

His muffled scream echoed off the warehouse walls—raw, agonizing, perfect. Evelina withdrew the blade slowly—slow enough that blood trailed after it.

Her expression remained calm, "You crossed every line, Kael Valtore."

He trembled violently, tears spilling from his eyes. Evelina tilted her head, studying him like he was nothing more than a broken toy.

"And today," she said softly, a chilling smirk blooming on her lips, "I will make you feel every pain you ever gave me."

Kael’s eyes widened in terror.

Rowan stood behind her, silent, steady, the perfect executioner’s shadow.

And me?

I sat back in my chair, smoke curling lazily from my lips, watching the woman I adored dismantle her enemy with elegance.

God help this man, because I certainly won’t.