The War God Alpha's Arranged Bride (Evelyn and Alexander) novel Chapter 114

**Steps Along Forgotten Roads**
**By Sophia Reed**
**Chapter 114: The Hidden Room**

[Evelyn’s POV]

I really shouldn’t be doing this. A nagging voice in my head insisted I turn back, that I shouldn’t be venturing down this ominous path.

As I scanned the dimly lit hallway, I sought out anyone who might provide clarity, anyone who could explain the mystery behind this peculiar door. But it was painfully clear: I was utterly alone.

With trepidation, I began my descent down the long, spiraling staircase. Each step felt heavy, laden with an inexplicable dread. My mind was a flurry of warnings, all screaming at me to retreat. Yet, curiosity gripped me like a vice, compelling me forward.

I tried to reason with myself, to convince my feet to stop moving while I still had the chance to turn back. But that inner voice was drowned out by an insatiable desire to know what lay ahead.

With every step I took, the atmosphere shifted. The air grew colder, the dampness seeping into my bones, and an unsettling sensation crawled up my spine. My stomach twisted tighter with each passing moment. The darkness enveloped me, thick and suffocating, as I ventured deeper into the abyss. The walls, rough and ancient, bore witness to a time long forgotten, and I felt a shiver run through me as I realized how isolated I truly was.

What lay at the end of this stairwell?

Whatever it was, it seemed destined to remain shrouded in this grim, icy darkness.

Finally, I reached the bottom landing, squinting my eyes in a desperate attempt to find some source of light. Surely, this place had to be equipped with electricity, right?

No such luck.

Not a single light switch greeted me—only a multitude of weathered torches clinging to the walls like sentinels of a bygone era. My heart raced as I set my sights on a small wooden table nearby, where a box of matches sat invitingly. I approached it cautiously, my fingers trembling as I struck a match and brought it to the edge of one of the torches. The flame flickered to life, illuminating the first part of the room in a warm, golden glow.

What I saw next sent chills down my spine…

Several narrow tables lined the area, each one cluttered with an array of blades and tools that glinted menacingly in the torchlight. Against my better judgment, I felt an irresistible pull to examine one of the tables more closely. As I leaned in, my heart sank at the sight of dozens of instruments, each one more grotesque than the last.

Then my gaze drifted upward, and I was met with an even more horrifying sight: larger weapons mounted on the walls. Swords, axes, knives—each tool seemed to whisper dark secrets of violence and pain, their purposes lost to me but no less chilling.

A gasp threatened to escape my lips, and I quickly raised a trembling hand to cover my mouth.

What in the world was this place?

As I continued to survey my surroundings, my regret deepened. It wasn’t just the weapons that haunted me; my eyes were drawn further upward, where chains and cuffs dangled ominously from the rafters above.

“Oh my God,” I breathed, my voice barely above a whisper.

I stood in a goddamn torture chamber.

The realization crashed over me like a wave, leaving me breathless. Kingston Hall had always been a symbol of elegance and beauty in my mind. Why on earth would such a horrific room exist within its walls?

But then a fleeting thought crossed my mind, a reminder of who I was married to. Alexander Kingston—the self-proclaimed War God of this region. It was a title steeped in blood and conquest, a legacy forged through violence.

But just how much bloodshed had transpired within these walls?

How many souls had been subjected to the horrors of this room? Or worse yet, how many had never walked out again?

He watched as Oliver’s calm demeanor gradually transformed into one of deep concern, his expression shifting as the gravity of the situation sank in. At one point, Oliver looked as though he might need to sit down, his head swimming with the implications of Alexander’s revelations.

“Oh God,” he muttered, the words heavy with dread.

By the end of Alexander’s explanation, both men sat hunched over their chairs, their faces buried in their hands, the weight of the truth nearly suffocating.

After a long, tense silence, Oliver finally lifted his head and spoke, his voice steady yet filled with urgency. “From what you’ve told me, it sounds entirely plausible that Edward’s case is intertwined with yours. Granted, there’s still a lot of fact-checking that needs to happen, but it’s definitely something that warrants further investigation.”

Alexander nodded, determination etched on his features. “I want you and a small team to comb through every scrap of news regarding that god-forsaken accident. Thankfully, there weren’t too many other casualties, but we need to ascertain whether Edward’s situation is connected.”

“Sir, what if it’s true?” Oliver asked, running a hand roughly over his face, the weight of responsibility settling heavily on his shoulders. “What if this is all linked?”

“I don’t know,” Alexander admitted, his voice strained. “I feel an overwhelming sense of guilt, like I should have done something.”

Oliver shook his head gently, trying to offer reassurance. “But surely, Evelyn wouldn’t see it that way. After all, it was Michael who orchestrated everything. If she’s looking to place blame, it should be on him.”

Regardless of blame, a new burden loomed over Alexander: he would have to break the news to Evelyn about her brother’s dire situation.

Suddenly, the door to his office swung open, and in walked a disheveled and terrified-looking Evelyn, her eyes wide and unfocused.

Alexander’s heart plummeted at the sight of her, the fear etched across her face sending a jolt of panic through him. “Evelyn!” he exclaimed, rising to his feet, concern flooding his features.