UNKNOWN:Just saying… maybe she’s not yours anymore.
Me:It would be wise to remember your place; this won’t end well otherwise. I’ve cleaned up your messes before. I can makeyoudisappear too.
You’re not irreplaceable.
UNKNOWN:I… I don’t know if…
Me:Don’t get weak on me now. One slip. One quiet moment. That’s all you need. And when you have her? You bring her tome.
UNKNOWN:I’ll handle it. Just don’t push me again.
Me:Tick-tock. If you don’t, someone else will.
And they won’t be as gentle.
Chapter thirty-three
Ava
Iseetheglassbefore I even reach the door.
It’s scattered across the sidewalk like shattered ice, glittering cruelly in the rising sun. My heart starts pounding before my brain can even process what I’m seeing. The “Open” sign hangs crooked, swinging slightly in the morning breeze. The lock… it’s mangled, twisted out of shape like someone ripped it apart with their bare hands.
The door is broken.
My store—my safe place, my quiet world of stories and peace—is broken.
I step forward, glass crunching beneath my boots, and freeze the moment I see inside.
Tables overturned. Shelves knocked sideways. Books—my books—are strewn everywhere like debris in a storm. It’s chaos. Total destruction.
But it’s the red that stops me cold.
Spray paint, thick and violent, slashed across the far wall in letters so jagged they look like they’re still bleeding.
My stomach lurches. The words blur as my vision swims.
I can’t breathe.
My fingers fumble for my phone. I don’t even remember unlocking it before Elijah’s name is ringing in my ear. He answers on the first ring.
“Ava?” His voice is sharp, already wired with tension.
“I—someone—Elijah—” My voice cracks, my throat closing. “The store. The front door is—someone smashed it. It’s all—”
“Ava.” His tone changes instantly—lower, firmer. “Don’t go in. Baby, listen to me. Do not go inside.”
“I—I already did. Just a little. It’s… they ruined everything. There’s paint on the wall, and the shelves, they—” My breath hitches as I choke on a sob. “They wrote something. It 's about us.”
There’s a beat of silence, the kind that vibrates with controlled fury.
“What does it say?” His voice is ice.
I try to speak but nothing comes out. My whole body is shaking. I press the back of my hand to my mouth to muffle the sound before the sob finally escapes.
“Ava. Baby. Talk to me. I’m almost there.”
I close my eyes, willing myself to hold it together, but the words come out broken.
