Gustav’s fingers tighten around mine. Possessive.
“She is,” he replies.
They leave.
The moment they’re gone, Gustav crowds me back against the wall, palms braced on either side of my head. His forehead dips to my temple. His breath shakes.
“I think I’m sick,” he whispers, voice breaking in a way that stabs straight through my ribs.
“I know,” I say softly, threading my fingers through his hair, petting him like he’s something wounded and precious.
He exhales, shuddering.
“I’m getting worse.”
“I know,” I say again.
Despite the sharp sadness of it all, a smile tugs at the corner of my mouth.
He came back. He chose me. And I am the only one he lets in.
I press my cheek to his shoulder, holding him close, and whisper another truth that terrifies me most.
“New rule. I’m not leaving you. You don’t leave me again. No more disappearing.”
And in the quiet of the corridor, with his body shielding over mine, I promise myself I will find a way to save him.
Even if it destroys us, I won’t let him burn alone.
Chapter 35
Gustav
The American witch is good.
Here I am. I didn’t kill her father. She baited me back. And she still has a pulse.
A formidable opponent.
The night wind bites as we cross the courtyard toward the residence hall. She walks close enough that it’s cute. She doesn’t pull away. She hooks her elbow through mine like she belongs there. Clearly, she believes she has the right to touch me.
I should push her off. I should tell her to stop. I should remember she lied. All women lie.
But every step beside her scrapes another pixel of black from the edges of my mind.
She makes the noise quiet.
That alone is... disturbing.
She talks softly about the last few days. Her words spill warm and bright, a contrast to the cold evening and the darker parts of me pacing inside my chest. I respond with grunts. Nods. Nothing more. My hands stay in my pockets, but she keeps touching me, brushing me, leaning in when she laughs. She looks proud. Happy. Radiant.
It’s unsettling.
She is too close. Too trusting. Too willing to melt into me when I am barely holding myself together.
The voices swarm like gnats.
Don’t get attached.
