"Are you asking me to be your girlfriend James Beaufort?" I questioned him, while lying on top of him half naked.
As James Beaufort and Everly Calloway navigate the delicate transition from friendship to romance, they face obstacles that test the st...
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Chapter Eighteen:
< James >
I descended into the cellar as I promised Everly, bracing myself for the inevitable clash with Cyril. The moment our eyes met, words erupted, sharp and venomous, until the sound of the cellar door slamming open stole our attention. A heavy thud followed, and to my horror, I found Everly sprawled at my feet, her hands drenched in blood. She had managed to leave a pooling trail on every step. Ellie was beside her, miraculously unharmed, her quick reassurance doing nothing to quell the rising panic in my chest.
"Evie... my god," I whispered, scooping her up with a desperation that gripped my entire being. I carried her to a chair, my hands shaking as I searched for a first aid kit. She tried to explain what had happened, her voice trembling as she spoke. When I finally unwrapped Ellie's scarf from her foot, I realized with a sinking feeling that she would need stitches. But with the situation we were in, getting her proper medical attention was a distant dream.
Cyril, ever the opportunist, chose that moment to mutter an insufferable, "I told you so," as if that would somehow vindicate him. Footsteps echoed from beyond the cellar door, and I tensed, ready for a confrontation. The handle rattled, but the door held fast, locked from the inside. Whoever it was retreated as quickly as they had come, leaving us in a tense, suffocating silence.
"It's locked from the inside," Everly whispered, her voice strained. The fear in her eyes was mirrored in mine. We were trapped, with no idea if the intruder was still lurking above us.
"If you had just listened to me... none of this would've happened," Cyril squeaked, his voice grating against my already frayed nerves. I turned to him, ready to silence him with a well-deserved punch, but Everly's injury drew my attention back to her. Blood was pooling on the floor, and the sight of it pushed any thoughts of revenge from my mind.
"You should be thankful I don't have time to argue with you any longer," I spat at Cyril, turning my focus entirely to Everly. Lydia appeared beside me, first aid kit in hand.
