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"They say, "What doesn't kill you makes you aware"

What happens if it becomes who you are?"

Cassandra - Taylor Swift

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Chapter Seventeen:

- Everly -

"James..." My voice was wistful as I turned off the shower, glancing around for him. I didn't see him and wondered where he could have gone. "James..." I called again, hoping he and Cyril weren't having it out for a third time today. Peeking my head out from behind the glass door, I saw him running water for a bath, standing over the tub in nothing but a towel, lightly draped across his torso. I shook my head with delight, wrapping a towel around myself and walking over to meet his gaze.

"You know... we've nearly made it a year." He looked at me, his eyes soft. "So much has happened, and you and I haven't had a chance to celebrate where we were... and where we are now. So I thought this would be a start." He sighed, wrapping his arms around my waist, pulling me in for a kiss as my towel slipped to the floor. We both got into the tub, and as I lay on top of him, for those five minutes, I was at peace. It felt as if I could live in this moment forever, though I knew time would never allow it.

"I was just thinking..." I said, staring up at my boyfriend, bubbles clinging to his perfect hair.

"Uh oh!" James teased, and I splashed him with bubbles, laughing.

"No... I swear it's not bad. I was just thinking about the past. About being sixteen with you, Jamesie... it feels like a distant memory now. And I must confess, I lied about the first moment I knew I loved you," I said, sparking his attention as he pulled me closer into his chest.

"Tell me..." he inquired, his voice tender.

"It was that night at Alistair's party. I was fuming because you weren't answering your phone about Lydia. I knew I had no choice but to show up. You know how complicated it was for me to shimmy down those rose vines? I nearly pricked every finger on those thorns, but I was too worried about Lydia. And I'll admit, you not answering me... that was so out of character for us. I was worried about you too," I sighed, feeling the memory wash over me.

"I was such an ass that night... I hate thinking about it," James's smile slowly faded into a frown.

"You were, but... I get it. I mean, I barged in on you in the middle of one of your infamous party hookups. And... I was jealous. Ugh... jealousy, an emotion I can't stand. It feels like chewing glass. It's beneath me and my character, but I felt it. And it made me feel dirty. I had no right to be jealous; you and I were... just friends." I stared into his eyes, searching for the truth.

"Another lie, Eve... you and I were never just friends. I should have never been as rude as I was to you. I understood why you wanted to teach me a lesson. I deserved everything that happened that night. But you didn't. You know... we never talked about it after that. What do you remember?" James asked, his voice tinged with regret.

"I remember everything, James. Well, everything that happened between us, anyway. After our argument in front of Ellie, I realized something wasn't right. I should've told you. Even if I was mad, I knew you would've taken care of me. You always have. But I was so angry that I took off and found Lydia. By the time I tried to explain what had happened, I felt myself starting to black out. I went to the bathroom to snap myself out of it, but I don't remember anything until I opened my eyes and you were there beside me." I stared up at him, seeing the pain in his eyes, the way the memory still haunted him.

"I was terrified when I saw the water pouring out from under the door. Someone said you were in there, and the entire party was already searching for you. I had a bad feeling, and I was right. You're the most stubborn, strong-minded person I know, and that night... I could barely get you to put a sentence together. You couldn't walk... I imagined what could've happened if I hadn't found you, and I..." James stopped, tears welling up in his eyes. I rested my head against his chest and kissed it, trying to soothe the ache in his heart.

"But you did find me. I'm sorry, though—I think I might've thrown up on you," I laughed softly, trying to lighten the moment.

"You did, and Percy and Lydia agreed that I deserved it," James smiled down at me, his eyes softening.

"When we were in bed together that night, I told you... I think I had feelings for you. The way you took care of me changed everything. It changed both of us, I think. We were never closer than we were after that night. You spent every free moment you had with me, and I did the same. It was like something clicked, and even if we didn't fully understand it yet, we knew enough to know we didn't want anyone else." I looked up at him, my heart swelling with the truth of those words.

"You fell asleep that night before you heard my answer. I said I felt it too. Things did change after that—slowly, and then all at once. I was infatuated with you, Eve. And that picture from the gala... the way we were looking at each other, we were already in love, but too scared to confess it. That night showed us what a good couple we could be, and when we were sixteen, we saw how safe we were with each other. That created the love. Eve... I would marry you tomorrow if I could," James whispered, kissing the top of my head.

"And I'd say yes, because I know you like no one ever will, James Mortimer Beaufort," I teased him, my voice laced with affection.

"And I'll never let anyone get close enough to know you like I do, Everly Belle Calloway," he laughed, his tone playful yet possessive.

"I heard you invoked a college-wide rule about that after sophomore year," I said, raising an eyebrow. "But I assumed it was just a rumor."

"Ha no, it's true I did. After that party... no one was going to make you theirs, unless it was me." James's tone was so cocky, and usually, that side of him would infuriate me. But I was obsessed. I loved how jealous I made him. I mean, I only dated Jasper to finally get him to tell me he had feelings for me. I wasn't going to waste another year not being the only girl in James's bed. Another thing James and I had in common, we loved the games.

"James Beaufort... you're making me blush." I turned to face him in the bathtub, the warmth of his gaze enveloping me. "I'm so happy we did this. I actually feel a lot better—a little bruised up, but not as bad as I thought." I reassured him, as his eyes carefully traced over me, inspecting every inch with concern.

"Thank God... I would've called your grandfather myself if you were worse today," James sighed, relief softening his voice.

"Oh, I'm sure he'd love to hear from you," I teased, smiling at the thought. "But really, I'm hoping we can go back to London soon. As much as I love being trapped here with you, I could do without everyone else breathing down our necks." I shook my head, the weight of the world momentarily forgotten in his presence.

"I have to agree. I'm fine not seeing anyone until classes start again after this," James replied, his tone echoing my longing for solitude—just the two of us, away from prying eyes.

"You know, whatever my father's done... I'm sure it's not over. Even when we go back to London, he'll never learn. It's not in him to believe he deserves to face the consequences of his actions," I sighed, the burden of my father's sins pressing down on me.

"I can relate to that feeling with my father as well," James murmured, his eyes reflecting a deep, shared pain. "And as all the consequences of Gerald's actions seem to fall on you, it's the same with Mortimer and me. Every misstep he makes, I get the blame for. And he's almost gleeful when I make a mistake on my own, no matter how large or small it may be." His eyes told the story of a little boy who was never quite good enough in his father's eyes, yet would do anything to try to be.

The shadows of our fathers often cast too large a presence over the worlds we were trying to build without them. But as James wrapped his arms around me, I realized that we were destined to be each other's safe haven—the one refuge we could escape to when the weight of the world's expectations bore us down. In each other's embrace, we found a sanctuary where we could shed every pretense, standing bare, vulnerable, and utterly in love.

"What happens next?" I asked, my eyes searching his with the certainty that he'd know. James gazed back at me, his voice a soothing balm. 

"What happens next... whatever the fuck we want, Eve. Even when it doesn't feel like it, you've always got a safety net with me. I've got you." His words left me in awe of the man he'd become over the years. He took my hand, pressing a soft kiss to it, a gesture so tender it brought me back to that night in his arms, when I'd begged him not to leave. He'd promised he wouldn't—and from that day on, he never did.

"You're something special, James," I murmured, the weight of my words settling between us. "And this... what we have... I know it can endure anything. We're strong enough to know better. This is forever. And for the first time, I have no doubts or fears about that." I watched a smile light up his face, a reflection of the joy that had taken root in my heart.

"Happy almost one year, beautiful girl," James whispered, his lips meeting mine in a kiss that made the world fade away. If the tub were a little bigger, if James didn't already have to bend his legs just to fit in with me, I had a few ideas on how I wanted to celebrate our love. But we kept it PG for now—well, as PG as being naked in the bath with him could be. God, he was so hot. It took everything in me not to just jump on top of him, feeling my body pressing up against his abs.

"Happy almost one year, love of my life." I ran my finger under James' chin tilting it up to meet my eyes.

"You're not like anyone I've ever met Eve...I'm so happy I stopped being such an idiot and chased you for once. This moment is the reward, I'd longed years for." James' stared at me pushing a piece of my bang out of my face.

"Well...it's like you said Beaufort, I was yours long before I was actually yours. You just had to remind Jasper that." I teased him as I covered myself in bubbles.

"I knew you wouldn't make it easy for me, babe." He smirked at me.

"Nothing worth having ever comes easy Jamesie. I had to know if I gave you a chance, we wouldn't be something you would take for granted. I didn't want our relationship to be a fleeting thing." I gave him a knowing stare.

"Eve, nothing about us is fleeting. I'm more in love with you as the days go on. And whatever happens next...I'll protect you. Whatever the cost." James' light hearted tone stiffened at the thought of what could happen next. I grabbed his hand.

"James..." I whispered, my voice trembling as my lips brushed against his. I moved over him in the tub, the water spilling over the edge like the emotions surging between us. "Fuck, we're making such a mess," I laughed softly, the sound mingling with the splash of water as we stood up together. He reached for a towel, his movements deliberate, as he wrapped one around me and lifted me effortlessly from the tub.

James smirked, a playful glint in his eyes as he pulled me closer, his arms encircling me in a warm, protective embrace. "Now, where were we..." he hummed, his voice low and filled with intent.

"I'm not sure... remind me," I murmured, my gaze locking with his, the unspoken desire in my eyes telling him everything he needed to know. His lips began to trace a path down my shoulders, each kiss igniting a fire within me. As he slowly made his way down my collarbone, I felt the towel slipping, nearly forgotten in the overwhelming sensation of his touch.

The way his lips caressed my bare skin sent shivers down my spine, and the gentle yet firm grip he had on my waist was indescribable. James moved with purpose, his hand sliding from my waist, trailing down with a tantalizing slowness until it rested on my thigh.

"You drive me absolutely wild, Everly..." James whispered, his voice thick with desire as I scrambled to retrieve my towel, trying to regain control before things spiraled further.

"And what you do to me, James... it's beyond words," I murmured as we stepped out of the bathroom together. The thought of our friends, just down the hall, lingered in my mind, but the electric pull between us was too powerful to resist.

"Oh, to hell with it," I breathed, catching sight of James about to slip on his boxers. In a swift, decisive move, I pulled him onto the bed, the towel falling away as he tossed the covers over us. I climbed on top of him, our eyes locking in a gaze so intense it felt like the world had vanished, leaving only the two of us.

James fumbled for his pants, retrieving a condom from the pocket with a playful grin. "Safety first," he teased, making me giggle despite the heat between us. "As much as I'd love to have 12 little yous, let's wait until after you wear the white dress." His certainty that we were destined for forever was intoxicating, making my heart race with a mixture of love and lust. Our version of dirty talk was laced with dreams of diamond rings, far-flung adventures, and building a family together. This boy was my anchor, my guiding star, the one who brought me back to myself whenever I felt lost. In his arms, I found a sense of belonging I'd never known, not even within my own family. James gave me something I once believed didn't exist.

We always began with a slow, sultry rhythm when I was on top, a dance of seduction that hinted at the passion simmering beneath the surface. But everything changed the moment he took control. There was nothing quite like the sight of James above me, his gaze tracing every freckle, every scar, every imperfection on my skin with reverence. He kissed a path up my neck, his lips finding mine with a tenderness that belied the heat of the moment. I was lost in our love, consumed by it, and no force on earth could pull me back from the edge. His hands explored my body, sending shivers down my spine, while my legs wrapped around his torso, anchoring us together as he moved with the steady rhythm of waves crashing on the shore. I clung to the bed sheets, every nerve ending on fire, desperately trying to stifle the urge to cry out his name. But James loved it when I did, and in the end, I couldn't hold back.

"James... James..." I began in a soft whisper, but the words quickly slipped into something more, a breathless sigh as I tried to hold back. I bit my lip, the sensation of his lips on mine drawing out a smile I couldn't contain. "Fuck..." I murmured, feeling the intensity between us.

"Evie..." Hearing my name on his lips, spoken with that intoxicating mix of passion and tenderness, sent a shiver through me. The world outside faded, leaving only this moment where I was his, utterly and completely. A lady in the streets, but here, in this sacred space, I was entirely his. And being his...felt incredible.

"James... James!" I cried out, unable to contain the sound of his name as it escaped my lips. My hand flew to my mouth, trying to stifle the next outburst, but the fire within me only grew. He smiled, a knowing, satisfied smile, as he finished and began to trace a line of kisses down my stomach, each one a soft whisper of devotion.

When his hand gently parted my thighs, I felt a surge of anticipation. His lips traveled lower, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. "James... James... oh, wow... James..." I murmured, unable to hold back the words, my voice filled with awe and pleasure. Every movement of his tongue spoke of love, and in that moment, I felt completely, utterly cherished.

"James... James..." I whispered, my fingers tangling in his hair, gripping it as waves of sensation overtook me. "James... uh... James..." His name was all I could manage, each syllable carrying the weight of my desire. As the intensity built, I bit down on the blanket, stifling a cry that threatened to escape.

Finally, he emerged from beneath the covers, his eyes devouring me with a reverence that made my heart race. He looked at me as if I were his altar, something sacred and cherished, and in that gaze, I felt worshiped in the most beautiful way. "How was that?" he asked, his voice a soft murmur, full of knowing satisfaction.

"I have no words... other than, again. Just do it again... please," I whispered, my breath catching as his hand trailed down my stomach.

"If you insist, princess," James replied with a teasing smile, ready to disappear beneath the covers for a second round. I marveled at our luck, that we had been left undisturbed for so long. But fate had other plans. Just as James was about to assume my favorite position—second only to his lips on mine—the door burst open, shattering our stolen moment. We both sprang apart, James rolling one way and I the other, scrambling for cover. Thankfully, his dress shirt was within reach, and I quickly pulled it around my bare shoulders.

"Fuck! Does no one feel the need to knock around here?!" James stood up, hastily pulling on his boxers, which lay conveniently at his feet. He rushed around the bed to help me up, and to our utter disbelief, we found Cyril standing in the doorway, Lydia by his side. An usual scene for both James and I to take in after last night's events.

"I am so sorry to interrupt... but..." Lydia's voice trembled, her face pale. "A brick was just thrown through the window downstairs." James looked away, his gaze fixed on the floor as if searching for something he couldn't find. 

"Lovely, now care to explain why he's here with you," he muttered, his voice tight with unspoken tension.

"I was in the room when it happened," Cyril's voice trembled with urgency, cutting through the tension. "I know I'm the last person you want to talk to, James. But we're in real danger. Someone knows we're here. Someone has found you." His finger pointed accusingly at me, making my heart skip a beat.

Before the weight of his words could fully sink in, the power cut out, drenching the room in suffocating darkness. The storm outside had subsided, but an unsettling calm hung in the air, signaling that whatever was coming had nothing to do with the weather.

"What the fuck..." James growled, instinctively stepping between Cyril and me, his protective nature flaring up. "You think I'm going to believe you, of all people? After everything you've done?" His words were like a knife, sharp and accusing. Lydia's face twisted in confusion at his implication, her eyes darting between her brother and Cyril. "And don't even think about pointing your finger at my girlfriend again." James shoved Cyril back, the tension between them crackling like a live wire.

I reached out, placing a calming hand on James' shoulder, trying to ground him amidst the chaos. But the unease in the room was palpable. We hadn't even acknowledged the fact that we were now enveloped in pitch-black darkness, the only sound our ragged breathing.

"A brick?" I repeated, my voice barely above a whisper, disbelief clinging to every word as I turned to Cyril. "What was the purpose? A warning of what's to come?" My mind raced, trying to piece together the puzzle. Ellie had already found us, wreaking havoc in her own way. A brick through a window seemed too juvenile, too simple. "Where is Ellie? I can't help but think she has something to do with this," I added, my thoughts spiraling as I tried to make sense of it all, the fear gnawing at the edges of my composure.

"She's in the living room," Cyril replied, his voice laced with an unsettling tension. "Only Lydia and I were in the study when it happened. Now, with the power out, it's clear we need to get out of here. And regardless of how you feel about me, James, I would think you'd care more about Everly's safety than your hatred for one of your oldest friends." Cyril's words cut through the chaotic noise of our friends scrambling downstairs, each of us desperate to make sense of the unfolding nightmare.

James' jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides. "You're lucky my sister and my girlfriend are in this room right now, Cyril. Otherwise, I'd knock you out for the things you've been saying since last night. Don't you dare question my love for Everly. I'd do anything to protect her," he growled, shoving Cyril toward the bedroom door with a force that made the tension between them nearly palpable.

"For all I know, this is just a prank. I don't believe you, and I sure as hell don't trust you, Cyril. Make yourself useful—go to the basement and find some candles. And while you're at it, maybe flip the power grid that you and Ellie so conveniently shut off." James' voice was cold, his hands moving methodically as he buttoned his shirt, but his mind was clearly elsewhere, lost in the turmoil of the situation.

Cyril shook his head, defeated. "I warned you," he murmured before leaving the room, his footsteps heavy as he descended the stairs. Lydia's eyes darted between James and me, suspicion brewing within them. She hadn't yet heard what happened last night or how deeply Cyril was involved.

"What is going on here? I want answers, now! From both of you!" Lydia's voice cracked with frustration and fear as she demanded the truth.

I turned to face James, feeling the tension in the room grow thicker with each passing second. Before I could speak, the sound of shattering glass echoed from downstairs, sending a jolt of fear through me.

"What the fuck was that?" James said, his voice sharp as Lydia bolted down the steps to investigate.

"James, what if Cyril's right? Maybe we should call one of the drivers and just get out of here. My grandfather will understand, especially if we believe someone my father wronged has found us," I pleaded, my voice trembling as I hurried to gather my things, panic clawing at my chest.

Screams echoed from below, amplifying the urgency that hung heavy in the air. The house was plunged deeper into darkness, the power outage wrapping us in a suffocating cloak of shadows. James came up behind me, wrapping his arms around my trembling body in a desperate attempt to calm the panic spiraling within me.

"Evie..." he murmured, lighting a candle to cast a soft, flickering glow between us. "Cyril just wants attention. He's using this as a ploy to force me into talking to him. No one could've found us—we were so careful. Aside from Lydia texting Graham, I doubt anyone knows we're here. And as for Ellie, she's trapped here herself. It couldn't have been someone from outside. And when I prove this is all a farce, Cyril's sleeping outside for the rest of our stay." James laughed, trying to lighten the mood, but the darkness looming over the house was far more than just the aftermath of what the storm left behind.

"You should talk to him then. I want it all out in the open—no more surprises. Settle this, however you need to, even if it means beating the shit out of each other. I just need to know that no one here wants to cause harm to us. Well, besides Ellie... but that's not by my choice. I need to know that the people I've let into our lives aren't a threat. If this is my father's doing, that's an entirely different matter, and it could escalate just as quickly. So please, I'm begging you, my love. Just talk to him so I know whether I should be terrified or not." I cupped James' face in my hands, my gaze locking with his. The flickering candlelight reflected in his blue eyes, revealing the tears he was trying to hold back. Despite his conviction that this was all a joke, I could see the uncertainty in his eyes. He was just as terrified as I was.

"If it will bring you peace of mind, I'll do it," James whispered, his breath warm against my ear as he held onto my trembling frame. "I hate seeing you like this." His voice was steady, but beneath it, I could hear the tension he was trying to mask. "I'll talk to him, maybe I'll hit him, we'll see... but I'll do what I can to get to the bottom of this, for you." His words lingered in the air as he darted down the steps, leaving me alone with my racing thoughts and the oppressive silence of the house.

My hands shook as I pulled a sweater over my head, fumbling with my skirt as I tried to gather myself. Suddenly, a faint light flickered through the darkness from the woods beyond. It wasn't the harsh beam of a flashlight but something more ominous, like the distant glow of car headlights. My heart raced—no one was supposed to be here, and certainly not at this hour.

"James!" I screamed, my voice slicing through the silence as the terrifying realization set in—we were definitely not alone. Panic gripped me as I rushed down the steps, frantically closing the blinds, trying to conceal us from whoever was outside.

"James!" I called out again as I reached the kitchen, the cold tile pressing against my bare feet. I could hear him in the wine cellar, his voice tangled with Cyril's in a heated argument. They were too caught up in their shouting to hear my desperate cries. I stumbled through the dark, my vision blurred by tears and fear, and suddenly, a sharp pain shot through my foot as I stepped on a shard of broken glass.

I screamed, collapsing to the floor as blood pooled around me. The beam of light from outside grew stronger, cutting through the darkness and casting an eerie glow through the door.

 "Fuck... fuck..." I whimpered, pulling the shard from my heel, the pain nearly blinding me. I couldn't scream for James—I didn't want whoever was outside to know exactly where I was.

"You see it too..." Ellie's voice was a hushed whisper, emerging from the shadows as she peeked out from behind a chair. "I'm sorry. I knocked over the vase in the dark trying to hide," she admitted, her fear a strange comfort. It meant that this had nothing to do with Jasper and everything to do with my father.

"Thanks for the warning," I muttered sarcastically, wincing as I pressed my hand against the wound, blood seeping through my fingers.

Ellie eyed the blood with a mix of concern and unease. "That looks bad... if we weren't about to die, I'd say we should wrap it up," she quipped, her voice trembling despite the attempted humor.

"Ellie, as much as I appreciate your bedside manner, find something to defend yourself with," I urged, my eyes locking onto James' lacrosse bag by the front door. But I didn't know if I could even make it that far.

"We should be finding a way out, not waiting to see who's behind that door," she argued, her voice rising with panic.

"And how exactly do you suggest we escape, Ellie? The front door, where the light is coming from? The backyard, straight into the woods? Or the side door, where they'll see us the moment we step outside? Don't you think I've thought about that? Do you think I want to stay here and fight off whoever is coming with a lacrosse stick? My father knows dangerous people," I whispered urgently, my hands shaking not just from the blood loss but from the terror settling into my bones.

"We need to get to that lacrosse bag. We need something to defend ourselves," I insisted, my voice barely above a whisper as a loud thump echoed from the front door. "They might try to break it down. Our only other option is the wine cellar. We can lock it from the inside and wait them out."

Ellie's eyes widened in fear. "Do you think you can make it?"

"Wow, Ellie, I didn't expect you to offer to help," I retorted, struggling to stand as the door thumped again, more insistently this time. "Where is everyone else?"

"They're in the wine cellar—either drinking or hiding because the power's out and Cyril ran around giving everyone cryptic warnings," Ellie replied, her voice tinged with exasperation.

"He did? Then how do I know this has nothing to do with you and Jasper?" I shot back, but Ellie didn't answer. Instead, she knelt beside me, pulling off the scarf from around her neck and tying it tightly around my wound.

"Because, as awful as I am, I'm not this awful. But..." Ellie hesitated, her voice dropping to a whisper. "It could've been something Jasper only shared with Cyril. He really hates you," she added with a dark laugh.

"Wonderful, Ellie. You always know just what to say," I sighed, the pain in my foot throbbing with every heartbeat.

"The boys are still screaming at each other like idiots in the wine cellar, and we're about to get murdered because you're too rich and beautiful. Seriously, Everly... you suck," Ellie rolled her eyes, but there was a flicker of genuine fear in them.

"Thanks, Ellie, you're a walk in the park yourself. Look, when we get to the wine cellar, you can go back to hating me, and I'll do the same to you. But for now, please... help me get down there." I struggled to stand, the pounding on the door growing louder, more desperate.

"Ellie... now or never," I urged, fear constricting my voice as she grabbed my arm and threw it over her shoulder.

"You owe me," she grumbled, helping me hobble toward the cellar door. Together, we managed to pull it open just as the front door burst open. We barely made it down the stairs, tumbling to the bottom in a heap, right at James' feet.

His eyes widened in horror as he took in the sight of me, covered in blood, with Ellie beside me equally disheveled.

"It's her blood, not mine! And everyone, shut up—someone's in the house," Ellie hissed, scurrying to the back of the cellar. James scooped me up in his arms, his body trembling as he unwrapped the blood-soaked scarf from my foot.

"Evie... my god," James murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

"It's nothing... really, I just stepped on a piece of broken vase. I couldn't see anything; it was so dark in the living room and—" My words faltered as I heard someone at the cellar door. I had locked it from the inside, but the fear that gripped me now was unlike anything I'd ever felt. The handle jiggled for a moment, then went still, leaving us in an oppressive silence that was almost worse than the noise.

Whoever was outside, they knew we were here. And whatever they wanted, it couldn't be good. As James stumbled around, searching for a first aid kit, the only thing I could do was cling to him, praying that we would make it through the night.