Page 106 of Gravehouse

Daniel waits by the railing near the pool, posture loose but his eyes cutting right through me.

I stop in front of him. “What is it?”

Clearing his throat, he runs a hand through his beard. “The house.”

Of course it’s about the house. “What about it?”

“The buyer who fell through?” He watches me for a second. “It was Asher.”

My mouth snaps shut, fingers biting into my arms. “What?”

“The anonymous buyer. It was Asher. He purchased the house through a shell company, but Punk traced it back to him finally, or someonelether finally trace it back…”

He bought my house.

“There’s more.” Daniel’s voice drops. “He’s here. Arrived in Veilarath this morning.”

I blink. “On what side?”

If I didn’t know this man, I’d say he looks pressed. “Ah, this side. And he’s not alone.”

The world goes quiet as I say her name, needing to hear it even though I already know. “Camille?”

Daniel nods, lips pulled tight.

My eyes close as I breathe in the setting sun, hoping it’ll distract me from feeling that familiar pulse ofragereturning.Hello, old friend.

Of course they jumped all the way into whatever they had.Everything was fake with you.

I grit my teeth. “But it’s my birthday weekend.”

“I know.” Daniel winces, the wrinkles on his face deepening. “Pretty sure he knows too…”

“Oh,” I laugh, but I kill it before it gives me away. “He does.”

My fingers find the choker, grazing fresh scars from where I tried everything Google and TikTok recommended I do to remove it. Be great if this fucking thing was fake too.

I open my eyes and stare out at the snow cloaked yard. At Mount Crow that has always felt like mine despite how hard I pretend I don’t want it.

Let him come. Let him see Devon in my kitchen and a version of me he doesn’t recognize anymore. He doesn’t know Devon is a job. He could be my forever home, that’s why he’s in Veilarath and we’re not in the US. I want him to see that the girl he broke doesn’t exist anymore.

I killed her myself.

Daniel interrupts my thoughts. “You want me to see what I can do?”

“No.” I turn back toward the house. “It’s fine. I’m sure we can figure out the house issue while he’s here.”

Through the glass, Devon is still at the counter, head bent over his phone, blind to everything unraveling around him, but especially to the red light flashing in the corner.

My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I open the group chat.

Punk: Oh no, homie…

Shut up and fix this.

Punk: I can fix what I can… but that…

Punk…