“Why not?”
“Because I’m not someone you should waste your concernon.” His voice was cold now, final, like he was trying to push me away. “You have no idea what I’ve done. Who I am.”
I stared at him, my chest tightening. “Maybe I don’t,” I said softly. “But I do know one thing. You’re not as heartless as you pretend to be.”
His head snapped up, his dark eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my breath hitch. For a moment, I thought he might argue, might tell me I was wrong. But instead, he looked away again, his fingers tightening around the mug.
The silence stretched between us, heavy and charged. I wanted to reach out to him, to touch his hand, to tell him that whatever darkness he carried, he didn’t have to carry it alone. But I didn’t know how. I didn’t know if he’d let me.
Finally, he set the mug down and pushed his chair back, standing abruptly. “Get some rest,” he said, his voice low and clipped. “It’s late.”
“Ashton—”
“Goodnight, Dove.” He didn’t look back as he walked out of the kitchen, leaving me alone with the tea and the ache in my chest.
I stared at the empty doorway long after he’d gone, the sound of the ticking clock filling the silence. Whatever he was hiding, whatever pain he was carrying, I knew one thing for certain.
It was breaking him.
And, somehow, it was breaking me too.
23
ASHTON
As the morning light filters through the windows, casting a soft, golden glow across the room, I find myself staring out, lost in thought, watching as another balloon drifts down the winding path leading up to the house. It’s a different color today, a stark, ominous red. I already know who it’s from; I’ve known for days. Each balloon is a silent warning, an unspoken message from Lilith creeping closer, tightening her web around us.
Part of me knew this couldn’t last, that there was always an end waiting just out of sight. Lilith’s growing presence means Dove is no longer safe here. If I keep her, I’ll put her in harm’s way. But letting her go? The very thought feels like it’s tearing something open inside me. She’s burrowed so deep that I can’t tell where I end and she begins, and yet…
“Ashton?” Her voice cuts through my thoughts, soft, uncertain, like she’s sensing the shift in the air.
I don’t turn, don’t meet her gaze, because I know if I do, I’ll break. She deserves better than this, better than me, and yet Ican feel her eyes on me, can feel the way her presence fills every corner of this room, of me.
“What is it?” I reply, my voice sharp, colder than I mean for it to be. I want her to go away, to leave before I lose my nerve, but she steps closer instead.
“You’ve been distant all morning,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “What’s going on?”
I steel myself, hardening every piece of me that’s ever softened under her touch. “You’re leaving today, Dove.” The words come out harsh, final, leaving no room for argument.
There’s a silence, heavy and charged. I can feel her shock, the weight of her breath catching in her throat. She doesn’t believe me. She can’t believe me.
“What happened to forever?” she asks, her voice fragile, cracking under the strain. There’s something raw in her gaze, something that tears at me, but I force myself to remain still, to keep the mask firmly in place.
“Forever?” I scoff, letting the word hang in the air like a cruel joke. “Did you really think this was real?” My words sound distant, hollow, even to me, but I know I have to say them. If I don’t, she’ll never leave. She’ll never be safe.
She stares at me, her expression shattering like glass. I see it all in her eyes—the disbelief, the pain, the realization that I’ve broken something inside her. And it feels like I’ve taken a blade to my own chest, twisting it deeper with every second that I don’t pull her close, that I don’t tell her the truth. But I can’t. For her sake, I have to let her go.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I say, feigning a disinterest that feels like acid in my mouth. “It was just a game, Dove. You were just… something to pass the time.”
She recoils, her eyes wide, and I know I’ve pushed too far, but I have to keep going. “Go on,” I continue, gesturing towardthe door, trying to hold on to whatever’s left of my resolve. “Pack your things. There’s nothing left for you here.”
She stands there, still and silent, her broken gaze piercing through every lie, every attempt I make to sever this connection. She doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, as if she’s willing me to crack, to tell her that it’s all just a terrible joke. But I don’t.
With one last lingering look, she turns and walks away, leaving me in the silence, with only the weight of my own decisions pressing down on me. The balloons outside drift closer, red against the soft morning sky, and I watch them, knowing that I’ve finally done what I never wanted to do.
I’ve let her go.
The sound of Dove moving around the room reaches me, and I don’t dare look up. I hear the soft rustle of her bag, the shuffle of her feet on the floor, and the quiet, almost imperceptible hitch in her breath. I know exactly what she’s doing, and every movement she makes drives a knife deeper into my chest.
