We do it again. And again. Until I’m breathing normally. Until my heart stops trying to break through my ribs.
“There,” she whispers. “There you are.”
This is why I love her. Why I’ve loved her since we were twelve years old wishing on dandelions. She believes me without question. Without hesitation. Even when I doubt myself, she doesn’t doubt me.
“He said it with such conviction,” I finally manage. “I know in my gut he killed someone. I know in my soul Dom cleaned it up. So why do I feel like I’m hallucinating this?”
“Sometimes our mind protects us from scary things,” she whispers, still keeping one hand pressed to my chest. “I believe you. But I need you to be absolutely sure.”
“Positive,” I reply instantly. “He was crying. He said exactly how he murdered her. And Dom—he said he’d take care of it.”
Alex reaches for her tarot deck on the nightstand. The Tower card is still sitting face-up beside it.
“Let me just—” She shuffles while thinking. Not trying to pull a card. Just... processing.
And then a card flies out.
Not slips out. Not falls.
Flies.
It arcs through the air, flips twice, and lands on the floor between us.
Upright.
Perfectly upright.
Wedged in the crack between two floorboards, standing on its own.
Like someone—something—placed it there deliberately.
We both stare at it.
The Ten of Swords. A body lying face-down. Ten swords stabbed through the back. Blood pooling beneath.
Betrayal. Rock bottom. Brutal, violent ending.
“Holy shit,” Alex whispers.
I can’t speak. Can’t move. The card is standing there, held upright by the floorboards.
“Dylan.” Alex’s voice shakes. “Cards don’t just—they don’t do that. Not unless?—”
“Unless what?”
“Unless something wants to be heard.” She picks it up carefully, like it might burn her. Her hand is trembling.
We sit there in silence. Neither of us can look away from the cards.
“So what does it mean?” I whisper.
“Violent death. Betrayal. Complete destruction.” She sets it down next to The Tower. “Someone murdered.”
Alex looks at the two cards. The Tower. The Ten of Swords. Upheaval and violent death.
Then she looks at me. Really looks at me. And I see her make a decision.
She wipes her eyes. Sits up straighter. That thing she does when she’s scared but refusing to show it.
