Transmigrated as the Crown Prince's Mate
Chapter 98: He’s Dying...

Chapter 98: He’s Dying...

Damian’s voice echoed in the room, filled with frustration. "Yes!" He took a deep breath, his silver eyes glowing with intensity. "Because I’m supposed to keep you safe."

Evelina stiffened, her heart pounding—not from fear, but from the surge of emotions his words ignited. "I didn’t ask you to," she snapped, her voice rising to meet the storm in his.

"That’s not the point!" Damian’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. "It’s not about what you asked for. It’s about what I—" He cut himself off, jaw tightening as if the words themselves were too dangerous to release.

Evelina stepped forward, her frustration bubbling over. "Then what is it about, Damian? Your pride? Your need to feel like some hero? Because guess what—I’ve been taking care of myself long before you showed up!"

Damian’s eyes darkened further, a muscle ticking in his jaw. "And look where that’s gotten you—attacked, threatened, nearly killed more times than I can count."

Her breath hitched, but she refused to back down. "I survived, didn’t I?"

"Barely," he ground out, his voice low, dangerously controlled. "And now someone’s leaving threats at your door, and you didn’t even think to tell me?"

Evelina’s hands curled into fists. "I didn’t need you swooping in like some overprotective guard. I can handle it."

Damian let out a sharp, bitter laugh, raking a hand through his dark hair. "Clearly."

The single word hit harder than it should have, slicing through the fragile space they’d carved out in the aftermath of their kiss.

Evelina’s chest tightened, her anger warring with the ache that bloomed in its wake.

"Maybe I’m not the one with the problem here," she shot back, her voice trembling with suppressed emotion. "Maybe you just can’t handle the fact that I don’t need saving."

A thick, suffocating silence fell between them.

Damian stared at her, his face carved from stone, but his eyes betrayed him—flickering with something raw, something wounded.

Without another word, he turned on his heel and strode toward the door. Evelina’s heart screamed for her to stop him, to take back the words that had cut too deep, but her pride held her in place.

The door slammed shut behind him, the sound echoing through the empty room like a final word neither of them could unsay.

Evelina stood there, breathing hard, her chest aching with something she couldn’t name. Relia’s voice was soft in her mind this time; no teasing, no sarcasm—just quiet observation.

"Well... that went well."

She felt a tightness in her chest from emotions she couldn’t sort out—anger, regret, and confusion— all mixed together like a tangled thread.

With a frustrated breath, she dropped to her knees, mechanically starting to gather the scattered items from the floor.

The broken pieces of glass reflected slivers of moonlight, sharp and fragmented, much like her thoughts.

She picked up the crumpled note—You’re not safe—and stared at it for a beat, her fingers tightening around the fragile parchment until it wrinkled beneath her grip.

The words felt heavier now, not just a threat but a catalyst for everything that had fallen apart tonight.

Relia’s voice broke through the silence, soft but unmistakably smug. "It was quite a performance, though. Drama, kissing, yelling, door slamming. All we’re missing is a dramatic thunderclap."

Evelina sighed, her shoulders slumping as she gathered the remaining papers. "Was I wrong not to tell him?"

The question slipped out before she could stop it.

Relia didn’t answer immediately. Then came her typical, maddening response: "What do you think?"

Evelina let out a shaky laugh, equal parts frustration and exhaustion. "I don’t know."

"Sure you do," Relia countered. "You just don’t like the answer."

Evelina paused, her hand hovering over a shard of glass.

She hated how right Relia was. She had known. Deep down, she’d known that keeping the note from Damian wasn’t the smartest choice.

But admitting that out loud felt like peeling off armour she wasn’t ready to lose.

"I didn’t want to worry him," Evelina muttered, more to herself than to her wolf.

Relia huffed. "Oh, please, spare me that, Evie. You didn’t tell him because you didn’t want to feel vulnerable. Big difference."

Evelina flinched at the truth of it.

She sat back on her heels, the note still crumpled in her hand. Her eyes drifted to the door where Damian had left, her heart aching with something she wasn’t ready to name.

"I just..." she whispered, her voice trailing off as she tried to find the words.

Relia’s tone softened, the sarcasm fading. "You don’t have to do everything alone, Evelina. That’s not strength. That’s fear dressed up as pride."

Evelina closed her eyes, pressing her fingers against her temples. The weight of it all—the note, the argument, the kiss—pressed down on her like gravity had doubled in this room.

Maybe Relia was right.

Maybe she was tired of carrying everything on her own.

But admitting that felt like stepping off a ledge with no promise of a net below.

With a shaky breath, Evelina wiped the drop of tears gathering at the corner of her eyes. She glanced once more at the door, her heart conflicted.

Maybe she didn’t have to do it alone.

But first, she needed to figure out how to fix what had just broken between them.

In the next few minutes, Evelina finished arranging the scattered mess, her mind still heavy with the echoes of her argument with Damian.

She moved toward the bathroom door, her fingers tugging at the laces of her dress, craving the solitude of a warm bath to wash away the tension.

But just as she was about to slip the fabric off her shoulders, a loud, frantic bang rattled her door.

"Lady Evelina!" a voice shouted, breathless and panicked. "My lady, are you in there?"

Startled, Evelina yanked her dress back up, her heart racing as she rushed to the door.

She flung it open to find Jasper standing there; his usual smug grin was nowhere in sight. His face was pale, eyes wide with fear, chest heaving as if he’d sprinted across the palace.

"What is it, Jasper?" Evelina demanded, her pulse quickening at the sight of him in such disarray.

Jasper swallowed hard, struggling to catch his breath. "It’s my master—the prince. He’s... he’s dying."

The words hit her like a punch to the chest.

"What?!"