“Hey—” I say gently, “Hey, are you—?”
Her eyes snap up. The fire’s still there, but it’s drowning in pain.
“Don’t,” she whispers. “I’m fine.”
Liar.
Up close, I see the bruise already blooming on her cheek. Her lip trembles before she traps it between her teeth. Her scarf’s fallen away. More red spills out—wild, untamed.
Her clothes hang off her, like they were made for someone else. Long sleeves. Layers. Designed to hide what no one wants to see.
To hide the damage.
“You’re not fine,” I say quietly. “I saw.”
Her throat bobs. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“In a church?” I huff. “Yeah, probably not. Neither should you.”
Her lashes drop. “Whyareyou here?”
I rub my jaw. “Running from a ghost.”
She blinks.
“Yeah,” I nod, sinking onto the front pew. “I ran outta the Shanghai Tunnels. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been haunted for years, but this… this was something else. Didn’t pass the vibe check.”
Something flickers in her face. Not a smile, not quite—but close. A crack in the ice.
“I just wanted somewhere… away. Then I stumbled here. I don’t even know how far I ran. Long enough to get soaked and leave puddles wherever I sit.” I glance at her cheek. “You sure you’re okay?”
She nods.
How pretty she lies.
“I’m Trey,” I say, softer now. “What’s your name?”
She hesitates.
“Seraphina.”
Of course it is.
Sounds like a name that belongs in a romantasy.
I let the name settle on my tongue. “You’re gonna think less of me,” I say, “but that’s a hell of a name. Seraphina… sounds like a fallen angel in an epic.”
Her brows furrow. “You think I’ve fallen?”
“I think you’re still standing,” I reply. “And that’s more impressive.”
She studies me. Starts to move like she might bolt.
I stand, slow, careful not to crowd her. “Can I help?”
Her chin lifts. Defiant with quiet strength. “No one can.”
Then she whispers, “But thank you.”
