Chapter 63

Ethan Sullivan's gaze pierced through Evelyn Laurent like a blade.

"You're wrong."

Evelyn stiffened instantly, her eyes flashing with frost. "About what?"

Her voice dripped with ice.

Ethan adjusted his cuffs with deliberate calm. "You think fighting solves everything?"

"None of your damn business," Evelyn scoffed, her lips curling. "I do what I want."

She bristled like a feral cat, claws ready to unsheathe.

Ethan realized then—this girl was pure defiance. To her, fists spoke louder than words.

"Violence only makes things worse."

"Spare me the lecture, Saint Sullivan," she mocked, nails digging into her palms. "Next you'll call me uncivilized?"

She took a step closer. "Or maybe..." Her voice turned venomous. "You'll call the cops on your favorite 'murderer' again?"

His throat tightened. That mistaken accusation still weighed on him.

Silence stretched between them. A flicker of pain crossed Evelyn's eyes.

"What would you know?" Her voice trembled.

"I know defending yourself isn't wrong," Ethan said suddenly.

Evelyn's head snapped up.

"But what about the people who care about you?" His voice softened. "Your parents. Your brothers. Professor Klein..."

Her pupils contracted.

She saw it then—the disappointment in her family's eyes, just like Vincent Lowell's gaze years ago.

The image stole her breath.