Chapter Twenty-One

They were watching her.

Every hair on the back of her neck rose as the sensation swept over her, alerting her and sending alarm ringing through her mind. "Finally," she muttered. How long had she been strolling along Piccadilly and Bond Streets with the bag from Seven Dials, trying to gain the Revivalists' attention like a doxy seeking customers? Hours, perhaps? Long enough for her to intimately understand the way a peacock must feel when showing off to attract attention—a bit foolish and decidedly cheap.

But it worked.

Eyes bored into her back, sharp as a thousand daggers, weeping of ill intent.

Remember, directly up to your flat to draw them into one single, contained space for Catamount and his Runners to seize them. Though she wanted to glance over her shoulder and break into a dead run, she held her pace steady. Only a few more steps.

Her shop came into view, and her hands shook terribly as she opened the door and rushed through. The familiar sights and scents instantly comforted her nerves, though it was short-lived. "Upstairs," she panted, thankful Odette remained safe and protected at Catamount's home.

Catamount .

As she ran through the shop toward the back stairs leading to her flat, her mind flashed to the very first time she met him, the memory clear and strong. Blessedly, beautifully clear, after three confusing, heart-aching years of fog. He been the most captivating man she'd ever seen.

"Whisky, please," he'd said, sliding onto a stool at the tavern she worked at in the hub of Seven Dials, his voice weary and rough and so incredibly masculine. Like him. Every inch of him had been rugged and tough. Even his eyes, crystalline green, held a world-weariness in them that had not just tugged at her heart, but yanked it right out of her chest to land right in his hands.

"What's your name?" she'd asked, her stomach quivering at this bronze-haired man in a long, dusty coat.

"Catamount," he grunted, and swiped a hand across his unshaven jaw and up through his hair, tousling the blond-tipped strands. "Yours?"

"Julie, monsieur ." She rounded the long bar and began pouring him a drink when she spotted no sight of the owner who normally manned the taps and bar. "Catamount… That's an unusual name, no? What does it mean?"

"It means ‘big cat.'" His eyes slid across the bar top to her, the intensity of them boring through her, like a predator sighting prey.

The name made sense.

"My mother insisted," he added, his deep voice resonating in the pit of her belly. His gaze flicked over her from her auburn curls struggling against the confines of their pins, down to her worn work boots, and back up to rest briefly on her freckles before meeting hers. "While carrying me, my father read letters her cousin sent from America, detailing the creatures he encountered as he explored the vast land, and he often wrote about these enormous, powerful cats the Americans called catamounts. She thought by naming me that, I'd be equally as strong and powerful." He smirked and took a sip of the drink she'd placed before him. "Not sure why I just told you that."

"I have that look about me," she said around a smile, liking this man very much. "What do you do, Monsieur Catamount?

"I'm with the Bow Street Runners. Captain Catamount Castlebury at your service."

She laughed then, the sound ringing out across the dingy tavern, filled with delight. "Well, seems your mother was right."

Her mind whipped back to the present just in time.

Juliette hit the landing to her flat at a dead run, nearly ramming into her door in her haste to get inside. " Merde ," she grunted, fumbling with the doorknob.

The door downstairs crashed open, the sound of splintering wood echoing through the shop.

The Revivalist had arrived.

" Merde! " she swore again. Shaking violently, she fought the door open and crumpled against it once she was inside. "Hurry, Catamount," she pleaded under her breath, clutching the empty carpetbag to her chest. "Please hurry."

Suddenly the door behind her trembled, fists pounding hard and angry against the barrier. "We know you're in there!" one of them called, his voice sickening in its glee.

Taking a deep breath, Juliette reached down deep for the survivor in her—that tough and capable part that had seen her through a life fraught with hardships—and pushed away from the door.

It was time to face her tormentors.

The air in her flat hung heavy with tension as the six ominous figures of the Revivalists splintered her front door, shattering it to pieces, and closed in around her. Each of them, a nobleman draped in black clothes, exuded danger that sent shivers down her spine. But she refused to show cowardice.

"You'll rue the day you crossed me," she warned on a bluff. "I've the Bow Street Runners on my side." At the front of the group of murdering madmen was the one she recognized, the man she had made a deal with on that fateful night in Seven Dials three years ago. His eyes, dark and penetrating, held a burning anger that seemed to sear into her soul. "I thought you were dead!" she exclaimed.

"Only in your dreams, poppet. I survived and I want my money back. That was an awful lot you stole, you know."

"I-I don't have it!" Juliette shook her head. "I promise." She'd spent it all on buying her shop and the things within it. The money itself was long gone.

"You thought you could escape us," he sneered, a malicious grin twisting his features. "That we wouldn't find you."

To his left, a tall and imposing figure stood with a cold, calculating demeanor. His gaze, sharp as a blade, assessed Juliette with a detached cruelty that set her on edge. "You couldn't hide forever," he declared.

A man with a pox-scarred face approached. Even though he wore a mask, she instantly recognized him as Lord Breyer, a daily patron of the tobacconist directly across from her shop. "You played a dangerous, losing game, my lady," he remarked, his tone laced with a dark amusement.

Behind them, a pair of identical twins moved with an eerie synchronicity. The Turlington brothers. The "elder" twin was heir to an ancient viscountcy. She knew because she dressed their mother, Lady Agnes, and she gossiped something fierce. "We've been watching you," one of them whispered, the words sending a chill down Juliette's spine.

Completing the sinister ensemble was a man with a lean, predatory grace. His movements were calculated, and his eyes gleamed with an unsettling hunger. "It's time to pay for your sins," he hissed.

Juliette knew that if she were more knowledgeable of the peerage, she would be able to identify them all.

The memories of that night in Seven Dials flooded back again, her past choices standing before her, ready for revenge.

The one with whom Juliette had made that ill-fated deal stepped forward with a sinister grin. "You thought you could align yourself with the captain of the Bow Street Runners and betray us without consequences? Like we wouldn't know what you were up to."

Juliette, her back against the wall, squared her shoulders. "I'm not your pawn anymore. I won't be manipulated by the likes of you."

The scarred man chuckled darkly. "You're playing a dangerous game, modiste. Crossing paths with a Runner won't save you."

With a mocking smile, the tall figure added, "You might have escaped us once, but your little alliance won't shield you forever."

The twins echoed in eerie unison, "We know what you did, Juliette. You can't erase the past."

One of them hissed, "Catamount Castlebury won't protect you. He can't."

Juliette, her voice steady despite the rising terror, shot back, "Catamount is more than you think. And he will protect me." In fact, he should be storming the door to the shop below any moment now.

She was relying on it.

Relying on him .

The leader's eyes flared with anger. "You've sealed your fate, barmaid. This is the end of the line for you." He circled her. "You took our money and betrayed your precious Bow Street Runner. You're no different from us. Just a player in this sordid game."

"I did what I had to survive that night. But I won't let you continue your reign of terror. Yes, I took your money! You bloody paid it to me to tell him about the attack, and I did." And people had died because of it. She had to live with that knowledge every day for the rest of her life.

The scarred man scoffed, "Survival is often a matter of perspective. You enjoyed the spoils of our actions, all while pretending to be the innocent, forgetful victim."

The twins chimed in, their voices a disconcerting harmony, "You're a traitor, Juliette. A deceiver. Catamount Castlebury will know the truth about you."

Lord Breyer spoke, his gaze piercing through the shadows. "Your love for the Runner won't save you from the consequences of your bad choices."

Juliette, defiance burning within her, retorted, "I'll face the consequences, but I won't let you destroy the lives of innocent people any longer. I took that money to escape this wretched city, to create a life far from the darkness you bring. A life with Catamount, free from your terror."

The leader sneered, "A life of luxury funded by the suffering of others. You're no different. Just a selfish whore in our twisted game."

She shook her head. "I'll never be like you. I've fought to build a different life, one filled with love and goodness. One that helps people, not hurts them."

Laughter echoed in the small living room. "Love, dear Juliette? Love won't erase the choices you made."

Lord Breyer stepped closer. "Your fate is tied to ours."

"I choose love over darkness, and I'll fight for it until my last breath," Juliette returned.

The leader seized her arm in a bruising grip. "I'm going to enjoy your agony," he said.

She winced at the pain but refused to let fear dominate her spirit. "If my fate is entwined with yours, then I'll face it on my terms, not yours." Juliette's mind raced, searching for a way to turn the tide.

That was when she heard it.

Her heart skipped a beat at the familiar birdcall, a secret song shared only between her and Catamount. A communication call they set up long ago, from when she was Julie. Hope surged within her as she gathered her strength, ready to face whatever unfolded.

The leader sneered, oblivious to the significance of the sound. "Your lover won't save you. No one will. You're all alone."

Juliette's focus remained on the window past his shoulder. "He'll find me, and you'll pay for every ounce of pain you've caused."

The leader's slap landed with a sharp crack, leaving Juliette momentarily stunned. Her cheek burned, but her defiant spark remained. As she steadied herself, she locked eyes with the Revivalist, whose sneer conveyed a twisted satisfaction at her pain. "Is this your way of proving loyalty, my dear Juliette?" he taunted her, circling like a vulture closing in on its prey. "I like your cries."

A cold wind whispered through the room then, carrying with it the distant sound of footsteps. Juliette's heart quickened as she recognized the rhythmic cadence of Catamount's approach. With every step, her anticipation built, but she couldn't let on that she'd heard him.

The leader, growing impatient, raised his hand for another strike. Juliette, however, stood firm. "I'll never be like you. I won't let you tarnish the life I've built," she declared.

"It's already tarnished. You paid for it with blood money." The room filled with the tense energy of impending violence. The sick smell of it nearly gagged her. "You think your precious captain will save you? He won't. Not this time."

"You don't know the man you're up against." As Catamount's secret call echoed outside, Juliette met the leader's gaze with a triumphant smile. "He knows exactly who I am, and he's still coming for me."

Her own whistle echoed through the desolation of her ransacked flat. The Revivalists sneered, seemingly unimpressed by her attempt to signal for help.

"You think anyone can save you from us?" the leader said, slapping her once more.

Juliette tasted blood but met his gaze with a furious glare, tightly clutching the concealed fabric scissors she'd used before. She knew she had only moments before Catamount arrived.

As the Revivalists closed in on her, she surreptitiously tightened her grip on the fabric scissors, her eyes darting from one assailant to another. Just as they closed in, another birdcall pierced through the oppressive air.

Catamount was just beyond the flat's front door.

The leader of the Revivalists scowled, sensing the shift in the atmosphere. "What's that blasted noise?"

"You'll soon find out," Juliette replied.

The room seemed to vibrate with tension as the seconds stretched, and then, with a resounding crash, the door burst open. Catamount stormed in, eyes ablaze with fury.

A squadron of Bow Street Runners flooded the room, each one armed and poised for battle. The Revivalists, caught off guard by the sudden onslaught, found themselves outnumbered and outgunned.

Catamount's voice cut through the tension like a blade. "Stand down, Revivalists! Your reign of terror ends here."

The room crackled with charged energy as the Runners fanned out, their weapons trained on the nefarious group. The Revivalist leader, now realizing the tables had turned, spat defiantly, "You can't stop us, Castlebury. This city belongs to us!"

Catamount's response was a steely glare, his hand poised near the hilt of his weapon. "You underestimate the resolve of Bow Street. Surrender peacefully, and maybe justice will be kinder than you deserve."

The confrontation escalated as the Revivalists, unwilling to surrender, lashed out with a sudden burst of violence. In the chaos that ensued, Catamount and the Bow Street Runners expertly navigated the onslaught, their training and resolve evident in every coordinated move.

During the struggle, Juliette, her grip firm on the fabric scissors, found herself face to face with the leader. His eyes, filled with a desperate fury, locked on to hers. "You think this changes anything, barmaid? London will burn, and we'll rise from the ashes."

"I think not," she replied, kneeing him in his bollocks with all her might.

With a howl of pain, he dropped to his knees and clutched his groin. Catamount swiftly intervened, disarming the leader and bringing an end to the resistance. The Revivalists, now defeated and subdued, glared defiantly, their dreams of a malevolent empire shattered.

With the threat at last neutralized, Catamount turned to Juliette. "Are you hurt, love?"

She shook her head, the adrenaline still coursing through her veins. "I'm fine."

The Runners efficiently secured the Revivalists. As they were led away, the room seemed to sigh in relief.

Juliette met Catamount's gaze. "We faced them together," she murmured. "Just like you said."

Catamount, his expression full of pride and relief, nodded. "London is safe now, thanks to you."

With the immediate threat quelled, the adrenaline that had fueled her dissolved into a flood of emotions. She stumbled back on a sob, and Catamount was there, his strong arms enveloping her in a protective embrace. Juliette's tears, long held back in the face of danger and uncertainty, flowed freely. The sobs racked her body as the reality of the ordeal, the memories of Seven Dials, and the recent confrontation overwhelmed her.

"It's over, Julie," he whispered, holding her close. "You're safe now."

But in the aftermath of the confrontation, Juliette couldn't escape the shadows of her past actions. The choices she'd made, the deals with the Revivalist leader, the lies told to herself and Catamount—it all surged to the surface. The warmth of Catamount's presence offered solace, yet the burden of her guilt lingered.

"I didn't want to lose you," she confessed through choked sobs. "But I betrayed you. I took their money, and I lied."

Catamount, though undoubtedly grappling with his own complex emotions, remained a steadfast anchor. "Whatever happened, we'll find a way through."

Juliette was compelled to lay bare her truth, and steeled herself to reveal the tangled web of deceit she had woven. She needed to get it out.

"Catamount," she began, her voice trembling with remorse, "that night, when I took that money and lied to you about the Revivalists' plans, I… I didn't know. I didn't know who he was, what he represented. All I could see was an escape from my life of poverty, a chance to finally leave London with you." Her words hung in the air, the gravity of her admission settling between them. Catamount's expression remained steady, urging her to continue. "I thought it was a real tip, one that would afford us a chance to start anew. I didn't realize the danger, the darkness I was getting us into."

***

The revelation struck Catamount like a physical blow, the realization of the depth of Juliette's actions hitting him with a force that threatened to knock the breath from his lungs. "You sent my men to the wrong place that night, jeopardizing lives," he said, each word clipped with a restrained fury. "And you did it on purpose?"

Juliette winced. "I didn't know… I-I didn't realize the consequences," she stammered. "I honestly thought I was giving a real tip, even though he paid me."

"Didn't the amount he gave you give you pause? Make you question it?"

She shook her head. "No, because he didn't give me much. Just a few coins. It wasn't until the attack when I thought he was dying that I saw the bag of money and took it."

The room felt charged with tension, the air heavy with truth laid bare. Catamount, who had dedicated his life to upholding justice, grappled with the harsh reality that the person he loved had played a role in the destruction that unfolded that night. "I trusted you with the safety of my men, with the safety of innocent lives," he bit out.

Juliette bowed her head, the consequences of her actions settling heavily on her shoulders. The silence hung between them, a stark contrast to the chaos they had just emerged from. The connection they shared strained under the burden of her deception and betrayal.

"The lives lost that night, the families shattered…" He trailed off, unable to find the words to encapsulate the magnitude of the tragedy.

Juliette's eyes welled with tears. "I never meant for any of that to happen. I didn't understand what I was doing."

Catamount clenched his jaw, the conflicting emotions warring within him. He had seen the devastation firsthand, the aftermath of that merciless attack on Seven Dials. The faces of the victims haunted his dreams, and now he grappled with the realization that someone he loved had inadvertently played a role in the tragedy.

"I need time," he finally muttered, his voice strained. "I need time to understand this."

***

Juliette nodded as Catamount turned away, his strides purposeful as he distanced himself from her. Each step resonated with the echoes of a love tarnished by betrayal and the shadows of a past that refused to loosen its grip.

Juliette stood there. The chasm that had opened between them seemed insurmountable. She reached out, a desperate plea in her eyes, but he continued his silent departure.

He paused, his back turned to her, as if wrestling with his own emotions. But then he sighed, opened the door, and strode through. She watched him go, her heart shattering.

Unexpectedly, he suddenly pivoted on his heel and marched back to her. His eyes locked on to hers. "I never cared about the money, Juliette. Not then, not now," he declared. "I wanted a life with you, just as you are. Poverty or wealth, it never mattered. It was always about us. About how much I loved you."

The sincerity in his words washed over Juliette, and a glimmer of hope flickered.

"I lost you that night, but I don't want to lose you again. We'll work this out together, as we always should have." He reached for her, gently cradling her face in his hands, wiping away the tears with his thumbs. "I love you, Juliette. Not the version of you I had in my head, not the Julie you were, but you . Flaws, mistakes, and all."

In that moment, a new foundation seemed to form. The barriers that had separated them began to crumble, leaving room for understanding and forgiveness. Love, resilient and enduring, emerged as the guiding force that could bind their wounded hearts together once more.

Catamount fumbled with something in the inner pocket of his coat and withdrew a small velvet box. The hinge softly creaked as he opened it, revealing a glimmering ring nestled within. He looked up at her with an intensity that matched the gleam of the ring. "Juliette Toussaint, will you marry me?" His voice wavered slightly, imbued with hope and vulnerability, and his eyes bored into hers with an unwavering sincerity.

Juliette's breath caught in her throat, and she blinked away tears. "Catamount, after everything…"

He silenced her with a gentle finger on her lips. "I don't care about the past, only the future. A future with you. I wanted to do this the night you died, and I never got the chance. I've been holding on to it ever since. So, will you be my wife, Juliette?"

He sank to one knee, holding the open box toward her, a symbol of hope and a promise for a future they could shape together. The room seemed to hold its breath as they stood on the precipice of a new beginning.

"Yes, a million times yes," she replied, throwing herself into his arms. "But call me Julie."