Page 111 of Ashen Souls

I stood frozen on the corner, trying to overlay the ghost of that Thursday night onto the dry street. The disastrous date. The relentless downpour. The yellow blur of the taxi cutting through the dark, followed by the blinding glare of headlights just before the impact shattered the glass. Then, the abrupt shift to the clinical white lights of the hospital. The hushed, disbelieving voices of the attending doctors.

You’re a medical marvel, Aveline.

No one walks away from a collision like that.

The driver didn't make it.

A drop of rain hit the back of my hand, snapping me out of the echo. Above me, the slate clouds finally broke, unleashing a freezing drizzle that slowly darkened the faded asphalt.

I hugged my ribs, shivering as the dampness seeped through my hoodie. All this time, I had clung to their narrative. Luck. A statistical anomaly. Divine timing.

But standing here now, with his brand fused to my wrist, the illusion of simple luck dissolved.

It hadn’t been a miracle.

I closed my eyes, and the suppressed fragments of the crash clicked into place. I had seen him. In the wreckage, hovering at the very edge of my fading consciousness. A looming shadow wrapped in smoke, watching me bleed.

He had been there. He had intervened.

Because if I had died, the living key to his prison would have vanished with me.

I hadn’t survived a fatal accident. I had been preserved.

I looked down the empty, rain-slicked street. He had been watching me long before the dreams ever started.

Someone called my name through the gray downpour.

“Aveline?”

I turned. Ethan stood a few paces away on the sidewalk. He didn't have an umbrella. The rain was already saturating the shoulders of his dark coat, but he didn't seem to notice.

He took in my soaked clothes, my shivering frame, and the utter desolation on my face. His expression crumbled. He closed the distance between us, stopping just short of touching me. “Hey,” he murmured, his voice cracking. “Hey, look at me. What happened?”

I should have lied. I should have forced a polite smile, pretended I wasn’t completely unraveling, and kept walking. But the genuine concern in his voice broke the last thread holding me together.

A fractured sound escaped my throat, and the tears spilled over, mingling with the rain on my cheeks.

Ethan stepped into my space and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me flush against his chest. He held me fiercely, his grip the only solid, real thing left in a reality that was rapidly turning to ash.

I surrendered to it for one reckless second. I buried my face in his coat, surrounded by the scent of damp wool and a faint trace of coffee. It was pure human warmth. Everything my monster was not.

Ethan pulled back just enough to cup my face. His palms soothed my chilled skin as his eyes scanned my face with raw panic. He swiped his thumb across my cheekbone, catching a tear.

“You're shaking,” he whispered, his voice calm but firm. “Aveline, please. Talk to me.”

I leaned into the warmth of his palm.

But my mind conjured the image of that deadbolted dorm room. The shredded furniture. The feral claw marks. The layer of gray ash where a human being used to be.

A sickening wave of dread washed over me. Ethan was holding me. He was looking at me with undisguised devotion. And Daeren was always watching. Every second I stayed in Ethan’s arms, I was painting a bullseye directly on his chest.

I shoved him away. The abrupt force of it made him stumble back, his hands falling empty to his sides.

“Aveline?” Hurt and confusion clouded his eyes.

“I… I can't.” I backed away, my breathing shallow and erratic. “Don't touch me. Please, Ethan, just stay away from me.”

His mouth opened: to argue, to offer a cab, to do what a good man would do. I didn't give him the chance. I turned and bolted into the gray downpour, leaving him alone on the empty street.