His chest rises once more, rattles, and goes still.
“No.” I shake him gently, then harder. “Oliver? Oliver!”
But even as I’m shaking him, even as I’m begging him to breathe, I know it’s futile. Because the light in his hazel eyes—the color so similar to Evie’s—is gone. The boy who made me laugh, who made me feel normal in this crazy place, is never coming back. No more chances, no more time loops, no more trying again.
The rain washes the blood from his lips, making him look peaceful in a way that makes everything worse.
Then I turn to Logan. His arm is no longer around my shoulders. He hasn’t moved, hasn’t denied anything. He just sits there next to me, the rain plastering his dark hair to his forehead, looking totally and completely lost. Like Oliver’swords shattered something inside him that can never be put together again.
“What did he mean?” My voice is steady, but my heart’s hammering so fast it’s like it’s trying to beat out of my chest. “Why would he say that about Miles?”
When Logan’s focus returns, he’s staring down at Oliver’s body like he’s watching the world crumble. And when he finally meets my eyes... there’s fear there. Raw fear. The kind of fear that comes from having your deepest secret ripped into the light.
Reality hits me like a truck. Because Oliver wasn’t delirious. He wasn’t confused in his final moments.
He knew exactly what he was saying.
“You killed Miles,” I repeat Oliver’s words, and it’s not a question, because the truth is written all over Logan’s face. “Your own emberlinked partner. You’re the one who killed him.”
His hands clench and unclench at his sides, fire sparking at his fingertips. The rain hisses where it hits his skin.
When he finally speaks, his voice is barely audible over the rain.
“Yes.”
No excuses. No justifications. Just the truth, raw and terrible, laid bare for me to see.
“Why?” I stand and blink away tears, or rain, or both. “No more lies, no more secrets. Just... tell me why, so I can understand. Please, Logan. I want to understand.”
Ineedto understand.
And so, I say nothing, watching him, waiting for him to explain.
He runs a hand through his soaked hair, and when he looks up at me, he seems younger. Lost. Broken.
“Miles was brilliant. Too brilliant.” His words come out rough, like they’re being dragged from deep in his soul. “He was watching me, documenting every inconsistency, every momentthat didn’t add up. Every time I slipped and knew something I shouldn’t.”
All I can do is stand here, frozen in time, trying to reconcile the fact that the man in front of me—the man I love—killed his own emberlinked partner.
But underneath the shock, understanding stirs. Because I know what it’s like to have magic that doesn’t fit, that marks you as different. The fear that follows you everywhere you go. The constant looking over your shoulder, wondering who’s watching, who’s noticing, and who’s going to be the one to turn you in.
“He confronted me in the Ember Archives,” Logan continues, like he’s reciting from a textbook instead of confessing to murder. “He had all this evidence laid out. He knew I could manipulate time, and that I could compel other witches. He even...” A bitter laugh escapes him. “He made himself a token to resist my compulsion. It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough.”
“Butwhy?”I ask. “What did he want?”
“To expose me.” Logan stands, his hands clenching into fists. “He said abilities like mine shouldn’t be kept secret, and that the Council deserved to know. That I was wasting my power by not exploring it to its full potential, and that I was being selfish by not telling them about what I can do, so they could learn everything about me that they could. He didn’t understand that they think we should be studied. Controlled. Prodded and tortured like lab rats. Forced to do anything they want to support their twisted agendas. He wanted to turn me in and condemn me to a fate worse than death, to a life that would never truly be my own.”
Conviction rings in his voice, and as I listen to him pour his soul out to me, it clicks.
This entire time, Logan’s been shielding me from the same fate he’s been running from. Every time he helped me hide my electricity, every lesson about control—he wasn’t just teachingme. He was trying to save me from what almost happened to him. From what Nina fought against in Fire Philosophy class and Garrett supported. From the Council of witches that fears anything that’s different.
But still… his own emberlinked partner?
“You really think Miles would follow through?” I finally ask. “That he’d turn on you like that?”
“He said if anyone found out that he knew and kept quiet, he’d be cast out of every coven.” Logan looks up at the storming sky, rain streaming down his face, then returns his focus to me. “His reputation, his family’s standing—all of it would be destroyed.”
“So, he chose his reputation over your life.” The words come out fierce and protective. “He chose his family’s social standing over helping his partner. And you killed him for it.”
