Chapter 234

Grayson’s POV

“Ava is carrying twins.”

I paused only momentarily before continuing, my shoes crunching on the uneven stone. The crowded alley throbbed with murmured conversations, the scent of herbs, burning incense, and a lingering metallic tang. People moved through the marketplace, bartering, whispering, disappearing into shadowed corners.

Evelyn Pierce’s voice cut through the noise, “Did you hear what I said?”

I exhaled, resisting the urge to snap. “It’s hard not to hear you, considering how irritating you are,” I said flatly, maintaining my pace. “And I know what you’re doing. It won’t work. We agreed not to speak. Stop talking to me.”

“This disrespectful attitude—”

I stopped abruptly, turning to face her. My patience frayed. “Do you ever stop?” My voice was quiet, but the frustration simmered beneath a forced calm. “After all this time, don’t you ever stop?” I studied her—chin high, shoulders squared, a woman who’d never considered she might be wrong.

She waited, lips pressed into a thin line, but I wasn’t finished.

“I began this as a completely different person. I didn’t see past the hate, the walls I’d built. Then I met Ava. She made me want to be happy. She made me want to see the world as I once did, before my father—before everything changed me.” I gestured vaguely at myself. “But you? You had twenty-four years with her, and still—nothing changed.”

Evelyn clicked her tongue, the condescending sound grating. “I raised my daughter properly in those twenty-four years.”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “You caged her. You controlled her. And you made her miserable.” I saw it now, clearer than ever. And, much as I hated to admit it, Damien had been right. “And in many ways,” I exhaled, the weight of it settling on my chest, “I’ve done the same.”

Evelyn’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of something crossing her face, gone before I could identify it. “You and I are not the same, Grayson.”

I scoffed. “No?”

“No.” She smoothed her dress, as if this were a polite debate, not the unraveling of decades of damage. “Everything I did, I did to protect her.”

I laughed dryly. “That’s the thing about you, Evelyn. You always think you know best. But tell me—who exactly were you protecting her from? The world? Or yourself?”

Evelyn’s expression remained unreadable. The market pulsed with life, people moving through the thick air. Dim lanterns cast long shadows, and in the distance, a woman with bloodstained hands crushed something, whispering in an unknown tongue.

“You act as if I should apologize,” Evelyn said, her tone devoid of remorse. “As if I should feel guilt for raising my daughter as I saw fit.”

“Guilt?” I repeated, biting back a bitter laugh. “You should feel guilt. You should feel shame. You spent twenty-four years breaking her spirit, and for what? Because you thought keeping her locked away would make her stronger? Make her like you?” I stepped closer, my voice low. “You’re a woman who mistakes control for love. And the worst part? You don’t even see it.”

She stared at me, silent. Then, deliberately, she adjusted the clasp of her necklace—a familiar gesture I’d seen Ava use when uncomfortable.

“The choices I made were not mistakes,” Evelyn said, her voice measured. “I shaped Ava into the woman she is today. A woman strong enough to carry the weight of her bloodline.”

I exhaled slowly, shaking my head. “That’s it, Evelyn. She was already strong.” I turned, scanning the market, searching for the High Priestess. And yet, here I was, arguing with a woman who would never change.

Evelyn kept pace. “You seem awfully defensive for someone so sure of himself.”

I ignored her.

“If I were truly wrong, if my choices were so destructive, then why does Ava still seek my approval?” She tilted her head. “Why does she still want to please me?”

I clenched my jaw.

Evelyn smiled, a slow, knowing curve of her lips. “You think love alone is enough, Grayson. That’s where we differ. Love is fleeting. Love is fragile. But power?” She gestured around us. “Power is the only thing that endures.”

“You sound just like my father,” I said coldly.

Evelyn arched a brow. “Your father was a fool, the worst of the Blackwoods I’ve known.”

“And yet, here you are,” I said, meeting her gaze, “with no one who truly loves you. What you and Luther have is mere companionship.”

The words hung between us, sharp and cutting. For a moment, I thought I saw a crack in her expression. But then the practiced mask was back in place.

“Love is overrated,” she said lightly, as if bored. “But I suppose you already know that, don’t you?”

I clenched my fists, forcing a deep breath. She wanted to provoke me. I wouldn’t let her.

I refocused on the task at hand.

The market stretched before us, stalls overflowing with the bizarre. A jar of bloodstained teeth. Feathers from an unknown creature. Bottles of swirling gold liquid, whispering secrets. A vendor with hollowed eyes grinned, his smile stretched too wide.

Somewhere in this chaos was the High Priestess.

And Evelyn, whether I liked it or not, was my only lead.

I turned back to her, exhaling sharply. “Enough of this.”

Evelyn raised an eyebrow. “Tired of our little heart-to-heart?”

I glared. “You seem to know a lot about this High Priestess—someone no one knew existed until now. That’s why you’re here. So focus on finding her before Damien does.”

Evelyn sighed. “Seems I’m not the only one who dislikes listening. As I said, you won’t find her. That’s why Damien hasn’t, despite his connections. She will find us.”

I clenched my jaw. “And what makes you so sure?”

Before Evelyn could answer, a low, knowing voice drifted from behind us.

“Because I would never miss the chance to see my daughter.”

I turned sharply, hand near my gun, but the figure wasn't a threat, not in the way I expected.

An older woman stood at the edge of the market, bathed in the dim lantern light. Her silver hair was intricately braided, her features striking despite her age. Then she smiled. “My daughter,” she finished, her gaze lingering on Evelyn with eerie fondness. “It’s good to see you, Lily.”