Chapter 652

Rosalind stood frozen, her mind elsewhere as two shadowy figures drew gleaming blades from their belts. In one fluid motion, they charged toward the masked stranger, steel flashing under the streetlights.

The mysterious man remained silent. His body moved with lethal grace, each motion radiating an aura of controlled violence that made the air itself seem to tremble.

Within moments, both assailants lay motionless on the pavement.

"Rosalind!" Harrison's voice cut through the night as she arrived with Charlotte in hand. "What happened here?"

"I'm... I'm alright," Rosalind managed, though her hands still shook.

Her gaze darted back to the masked savior. Having dispatched his opponents, he was already turning to leave.

"Wait!" Rosalind called desperately. "Who are you?"

The figure paused mid-step but didn't turn.

Watching his retreating silhouette, she tried again. "Do I know you?"

Silence.

"Thank you... for saving me," she whispered.

Without acknowledgment, the masked stranger melted into the crowd, leaving only an unsettling chill in his wake.

Harrison was already on the phone with authorities. "Do you recognize him?" she asked urgently.

Rosalind shook her head. "Not at all."

Charlotte tugged at Rosalind's sleeve with wide eyes. "I was so scared for you."

Rosalind managed a weak smile, tousling the child's hair.

"Someone clearly wants you dead," Harrison stated grimly. "We'll find out who sent these men. Let's get you home."

But Rosalind didn't move. "You go ahead. There's something I need to do."

Harrison grabbed her arm. "Where could you possibly need to go now? After him?"

Rosalind said nothing.

"That man... he moved just like Everett," Harrison observed quietly.

Before another word could be spoken, Rosalind was sprinting down the street.

Charlotte looked up at her mother. "Why is Rosalind crying?"

Harrison knew Everett Sinclair. And that masked figure had carried himself exactly the same way.

Rosalind had claimed she'd moved on, that Everett was part of her past. Yet at the slightest resemblance, she'd abandoned all caution.

Three years. Three long years, and she still hadn't let go.

Scooping up Charlotte, Harrison answered simply, "She's going to find someone very special."

"Does she love him?" Charlotte asked innocently.

Harrison's smile was bittersweet. "More than anything."

Meanwhile, concealed in darkness, Arabella's nails dug bloody crescents into her palms.

Those assassins had been her doing - paid handsomely to carve up Rosalind's perfect features.

She'd been so close. One more second and-

Then that masked interloper had ruined everything.

The rage threatened to choke her.

Rosalind burst onto the crowded boulevard, shoving through the evening throng.

Her eyes darted frantically across every face, searching for that impossible familiarity.

Could it really have been him?

But the sea of strangers yielded nothing.

"Everett!" she cried desperately. "EVERETT!"

Then - a glimpse. That unmistakable posture across the street.

She lunged forward without thinking.

A car horn screamed.

Tires screeched.

Headlights blinded her.