Chapter 384: They Don’t Like Fighting
Evaline:
We lay in each other’s arms for what felt like forever before I finally spoke, my voice hoarse and quiet.
"So," I murmured, lifting my head slightly to look at him. "Are you still planning to scold me for going behind your back?"
His lips curved faintly, though his eyes - sharp, deep, impossible to read - didn’t soften. "You think that’s not coming?" he asked, one brow arching in amusement and disbelief.
I tried to smile, but it came out weak, tired. "I thought maybe you would forget after what just happened."
That earned a quiet laugh from him - the kind that barely reached his lips but still managed to make my chest ache. "Evaline," he said in that low, smooth tone of his, "if you think you can charm your way out of this, you are more reckless than I thought."
I sighed, resting my head back on his chest. "Worth a try," I muttered.
His fingers brushed through my hair gently, tangling and untangling the strands as though he couldn’t help himself. The small, tender gesture disarmed me more than any argument ever could. For a long while, neither of us said anything. The silence stretched between us again - softer this time, comfortable.
Finally, I turned my head slightly to look up at him. His gaze was already on me, unwavering and impossibly intense. I swallowed the lump that had gathered in my throat.
"I don’t like fighting with you," I said quietly. "Not anymore. I hate it."
He tilted his head, studying me. "You think I enjoy it?"
"I know you don’t," I whispered. "But you are too good at it."
That made him smile... just barely. The kind of small, fleeting smile that never quite reached his eyes but still warmed me all the same.
"I’m not good at fighting with you," he murmured. "I’m good at protecting you. Those two things just happen to look the same sometimes."
I hesitated, then lifted a hand to his face. My thumb brushed along his jawline, feeling the faint roughness there. "I know why you are angry," I said softly. "I know why all of you are."
His eyes flickered, his expression unreadable, but he didn’t interrupt.
"You think I don’t understand," I continued, my voice steadier now. "But I do, River. I know you and Kieran - you are both terrified that something could happen to me if I keep digging into those soul death cases. You are trying to protect me, I get that. But..." I paused, drawing in a breath. "You have to trust me too. Just a little."
He frowned, the line between his brows deepening. "Evaline-"
"Please," I cut in, my tone gentle but firm. "I’m not asking to put myself in danger. I’m asking for your help so I don’t have to do it alone."
The muscles in his jaw tightened, but I pressed on.
"I went to Kieran first because I trust him and you," I said. "I wanted to do this the right way - together. But you both refused to even hear me out, so I had to find another way. You and Kieran... you both shut me out like I was some child who didn’t understand the risks. But I do. I understand more than you think."
He turned his gaze toward the ceiling, silent.
"I didn’t go there because I wanted to defy you," I said quietly. "I went because I thought maybe, just maybe, I could find something that would help all of us. You are all trying to fix this problem from the outside - tracking clues, guarding borders, silencing rumors. But what if the answer is buried somewhere in those records? In the old files? I couldn’t just sit here doing nothing while people keep ending up soul dead."
His eyes finally met mine again, searching, conflicted. I could see the storm brewing behind them - anger, frustration, fear, love.
"I’m not asking you to agree with everything I do," I continued, my hand still resting gently on his cheek. "Just... help me. Be with me in this. If I find nothing, I’ll stop. I’ll give up this investigation, I promise. But if there’s even a chance we could find something that might save a life..." My throat tightened. "Please, River. I can’t ignore that."
He was silent for a long moment. His eyes flicked between mine, studying me like he could read every unspoken thought. His thumb brushed across my wrist absentmindedly, the gesture slow, deliberate.
Finally, he exhaled softly. "You are impossible," he muttered, voice low, the corner of his lips twitching upward.
I smiled faintly. "You love me for it."
That earned a quiet chuckle, deep and soft. "Maybe," he admitted. His arm tightened around me, pulling me closer until I was pressed against him, my head tucked under his chin. "But I still hate when you scare the hell out of me."
"I didn’t mean to."
"I know," he said, his tone softer now, almost resigned. "That’s what makes it worse."
I lifted my head to look at him again. His expression had lost its edge - his eyes now calmer, his features relaxed. Still, there was something guarded there, a war between what he felt and what he could allow himself to say.
"You want me to trust you," he said. "But can you promise me that you’ll trust me too? That if I say stop, for your safety, you’ll listen?"
I hesitated. "I’ll try."
He arched an eyebrow. "Try?"
"River," I said, smiling faintly, "you know me. ’Try’ is the best you are going to get."
That pulled another quiet laugh from him, and I felt his chest shake beneath me. He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead, lingering there for a moment.
"You drive me insane," he whispered against my skin.
"I know," I murmured. "But you love me anyway."
His lips curved against my forehead. "Unfortunately, yes."
We stayed that way, tangled together in the quiet. The storm between us had passed for now, leaving behind a fragile calm that I didn’t want to break. His heartbeat was steady under my ear, a rhythm that soothed me, anchored me.
And in that moment, I realized something I hadn’t before - River’s anger, his control, his frustration... they weren’t chains. They were fear in disguise. Fear of losing me.
So when I whispered softly, "We’ll figure this out together," I meant it.