Shadows Of The Past

Evelyn sat alone in her small apartment above Hell's Kitchen, the faint hum of the city below a constant reminder of the life she had built since escaping her past. The night was quiet, but her mind was anything but. Memories, sharp and vivid, played out in her mind like scenes from a tragic play.

She had grown up as an orphan, a street urchin fending for herself in the harsh alleys of the city. It had been a hard life, but not a lonely one. Her only solace had been her friendship with Sasha, a spirited rabbitgirl with a quick smile and quicker fingers. Together, they had become an inseparable duo, picking pockets and stealing food from market stalls to survive.

Those early years were tough, but they had each other. They had a bond forged in hardship and trust, a bond that seemed unbreakable. When the guild found them, it had seemed like a blessing. They were recruited, trained, and given purpose. For a time, it was a good life. They were thieves, yes, but they had a family, a sense of belonging they had never known before.

But that all changed one fateful night.

Evelyn could still recall it clearly. She and Sasha had been on a job, a high-stakes heist that promised a significant payoff. It was supposed to be routine...but it ended in tragedy.

"Almost there," Sasha whispered, her ears twitching as they moved through the shadows. "Just a few more steps, and we're home free."

"Yeah," Evelyn replied, a grin spreading across her face. "This one's gonna set us up for months."

But as they slipped through the darkness, they encountered him: the notorious assassin known as The Butcher, finishing off a target in that very alley. He moved with deadly grace, a red meat cleaver in hand, his reputation as a remorseless killer well-earned.

"Who's there?" Sasha hissed, her eyes narrowing as she tried to make out the figure in the gloom.

The Butcher stepped into the dim light, his eyes cold and unfeeling. "Run," Evelyn whispered urgently to Sasha, her heart pounding in her chest.

"Too late," The Butcher said, his voice a chilling monotone.

The encounter had been brief but brutal. Evelyn had barely escaped with her life, but Sasha had not been so fortunate. The Butcher had taken her, and with her, a piece of Evelyn's soul. She had quit the guild after that, consumed by grief and a burning desire for revenge.

Years of relentless investigation had followed. Evelyn had scoured the underworld for any information on The Butcher, piecing together the fragments of his identity. Her determination had paid off. She had discovered his real name: Victor Delacroix.

She had secured a job at Hell's Kitchen, determined to get close to Victor and exact her revenge. Each day, she worked alongside him, her outward demeanor calm and professional, while inside, the storm of her past raged on. She had waited patiently, biding her time, preparing for the moment when she could finally confront him and make him pay for what he had done to Sasha.

As she sat in her apartment, Evelyn clenched her fists, the memories of her past fueling the fire of her resolve. She would not rest until justice was served, until Victor Delacroix paid for his crimes. She had come too far to turn back now. Her path was set, and she would see it through to the end, no matter the cost.

***

Liam returned to his cluttered room after his dinner at Hell's Kitchen, his mind racing. The evening had gone off without any major incidents, though Lucien had shot him a few odd glances. Liam had done his best to maintain a neutral demeanor, not wanting to tip his hand. The food had been surprisingly good, much better than he had expected given the restaurant's notorious reputation.

Kicking off his shoes and collapsing onto his bed, he pulled out his notebook. It was filled with scribbled notes. He flipped through the pages, stopping at one marked with Evelyn's name.

"Evelyn Hart: Orphan, former thief. Lost her friend Sasha to The Butcher. Seeking revenge against Victor Delacroix," he muttered to himself.

Her story had always been one of tragedy. In the novel, her quest for revenge had backfired spectacularly, leading to her death and further cementing Victor's reputation as a remorseless killer. But Liam had a plan to change that. He wasn't just a spectator in this world; he was determined to rewrite the narrative.

He had observed her closely during dinner service, noting her interactions with the staff and the subtle tension in her demeanor whenever Victor was near. Evelyn was biding her time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. But her plan, as it stood, was doomed to fail. She needed help, someone who could guide her and provide the crucial support she lacked.

"Gotta gain her trust," he mumbled, jotting down more notes. "Show her I'm an ally. Maybe offer information... something valuable."

He frowned, considering his options. The first step would be to find an opportunity to speak with her alone, away from the prying eyes of the other staff members. Lucien, in particular, seemed to have a keen sense for spotting trouble, and he would be a significant obstacle if he decided to take a closer interest in Liam.

The dinner at Hell's Kitchen had given him a glimpse into the lives of the characters he had only known from the novel. Seeing them up close had been a surreal experience, but it had also solidified his resolve. He wasn't here to watch events unfold; he was here to change them.

"Can't just watch," he said to the empty room. "Have to make a difference. Change the story...for her."

He set his notebook aside and lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. This world, with all its dark complexities and dangerous players, was now his reality. He had to tread carefully, balancing his knowledge of the novel with the unpredictable nature of real life.

As he drifted off to sleep, Liam's thoughts lingered on Evelyn. He had read about the pain she went through, the trauma of her tragedy etched into her very soul. She deserved justice for what had happened to Sasha. And he would make sure she got it, no matter the cost.

"Tomorrow," he muttered, his voice fading as sleep took over. "Tomorrow, we start the next phase."

Tomorrow, he would begin the next phase of his plan. He just hoped that, when the time came, Evelyn would be ready to trust him. Because if they were going to take down Victor Delacroix, they would need to work together.