“No.” His voice slices through mine, harsh and final. “It was a mistake. And you need to leave. Now. Before someone sees you and I lose everything.”
The words hit harder than any blade. He doesn’t want me. The anger claws at my chest, tangled with the hollow ache tearing through me. Wraths aren’t supposed to break—but I feel the gut wrenching rip of my soul bleeds through the liquor and the potion. Why does it hurt so much?
“It’s not safe,” he presses, every word peeling me apart. “It’s dangerous for us to even try. You have to fight the bond. Push it down. We can’t let this go any further. Please—promise me. No more late night visits. No more books. No more. We can’t risk it, Arwen, I’m sorry. You need to go.”
And I see it in his eyes—he’s already decided. Resigned. Survival weighs heavier than whatever fragile bond sparked between us.
My throat closes. If I speak, I’ll shatter. So I don’t. I turn silent and walk out. Another bond—gone. Another rejection. This one cuts twice as deep. My raging fire turns into a drowning flood in my chest.
32
Thou Shalt Not Expect Warmth from the Cold-Blooded
Arwen
Istumble back into the bathroom, fingers shaking as I peel away the clothes that aren’t me. It’s like they’re made of someone else’s skin—the too-short skirt, the top that made me feel like a walking insecurity—all of it crumpling onto the tile in a pathetic little heap.
The mirror catches me before I can look away.
A girl that I don’t recognize stares back—red-eyed, blotchy, hair trying to escape the pathetic pigtails.
She looks wrecked. She looks… like me.
“What the hell happened to you?” I whisper at my reflection, voice cracking.
Worthless. Useless. My brain chants it like a cruel mantra I can’t escape. Another bond—rejected. Two now.
I yank on my old clothes and shove my things into my bag. My hands won’t stop trembling.
No way am I letting my friends see me like this. They’d take one look at my puffy eyes, ask what happened, and I’d fall apart all over again. I bolt out of the bathroom before the tearscan regroup.
My chest keeps tightening, like someone cinching an invisible belt around my ribs. I tell myself to go to my dorm, lock the door, fall apart in private. I’ve handled this chaos before on my own, I can do it again.
But my body has other plans. My feet turn down a different corridor, quickening even as my brain drags behind. I’m barely aware of the walls or the doors blurring by. It’s like something inside me makes the choice for me—quiet, certain, unstoppable.
By the time the fog in my head clears even a little, I’m already standing in front of Brixton’s room.
Universe, please let him be here. I need him.
Not because I’m looking for answers. Not because I think he’ll fix this. I just need something solid to hold onto before I shatter completely.
My hand hovers over his door. My heart is a drum in my chest, loud enough that I feel like the whole dorm could hear it. And when I finally knock, it’s barely a whisper: “Brix… please…”
I wait. And wait.
I knock harder. And finally, the door opens, but his frown is like a wall between us.
“Arwen… what’s wrong?” His voice is cautious, tired.
“I… I needed to see you,” I say, voice shaking. “I’m trying to keep it together. Everything’s too much right now. Can I stay here? Just for a little while?”
He blinks at me, like he’s seeing through me—or maybe right into the chaos I’ve become. “Arwen… whatever it is, it can’t be that bad. I mean… maybe you should just go get some sleep.”
I laugh, sharp and broken.
“Sleep? Brix, I’m spiraling—” My words dissolve into sobs. “I don’t know what is happening to me. It feels like something inside me is broken. Broken more than even before. I feel worthless. No sin power, STILL.I’m… nothing. And I’m going to be exiled.”
He looks nervous, and why wouldn’t he be? All I bring is problems and chaos.
