And then I hear it—his voice.
Low. Soft.
“Dove…”
The shadow steps closer until all I can see is blackness. And then?—
I hear the door creak open.
29
ASHTON
Istand by the towering window in the gothic mansion, the wind outside howling through the barren trees that claw at the stone walls like skeletal fingers. My breath fogs up the glass as my gaze is fixed on the balloons—red, yellow, blue—swaying gently in the distance. They never stop coming. It’s been weeks since I let Dove go, weeks since I shoved her out of my life for her own safety. But Lilith’s message comes every damn day in the form of those balloons.
I don’t know why she keeps sending them. Maybe it’s a game for her. Maybe she’s reminding me of the consequences of my actions. The consequences of keeping Dove too close. I feel the weight of my decisions settling in my chest, suffocating me in the dark silence of the mansion.
Let her go, I think again, my hands curling into fists at my sides. But the words feel hollow now. It was supposed to be an act of protection, of love, but it has twisted into something I can’t escape. My world—my carefully controlled world—feels like it’s unraveling with each balloon that floats by. I haven’tseen Dove in weeks, but the ghost of her—of the girl who had been so close, so real, so mine—still haunts every corner of the mansion.
The balloons mock me from afar, drifting through the cold air like some cruel reminder of his failure.
She left because of me.
I hadn’t wanted to. I hadn’t wanted to drive her away, to shatter what we had so carefully built, but Lilith… Lilith had forced my hand. She would stop at nothing, and I knew that better than anyone. I had seen her chaos up close, felt the rawness of her madness for as long as I could remember. I had no choice but to let Dove go. Lilith would have taken her from me in a far worse way—if not killed her, then twisted her until she was nothing.
I rub my temples, trying to push the thoughts away, but they won’t go. They never do. Every time I close my eyes, I see Dove’s face—the way she looked at me with those wide, trusting eyes before everything collapsed. I can’t forget the feel of her against me, the sound of her breath in my ear, the way she believed in me, even when I didn’t deserve it.
But Lilith—God, Lilith—had come for me. And I had done the only thing I could. I had let her go.
For her own safety.
But even as the words echo in my mind, I know they’re lies. They’re the justification of a man who couldn’t protect the one thing I’d ever cared about. I had let her go, but it’s become my own personal hell. Every moment without her feels like a wound I can’t heal, like a scar that stretches deeper with every passing day.
I grip the windowsill tighter, my knuckles white, staring out into the distance. The mansion feels cold, even in the warmth of the late afternoon sun. I could have stopped herfrom leaving. I could have dragged her back into the house, locked her in a room and kept her close—but I didn’t.
Lilith was closing in. Her madness was closing in.
The balloons float higher, drifting slowly with the wind, and I feel the familiar pang of guilt gnawing at me. I let out a shaky breath, running my fingers through my dark hair, a futile attempt to shake the tension building in my chest.
There’s a dull ache where my heart used to be. Every time I walk through the empty halls, every time I sit in the grand dining room or stand in front of the fire, it feels wrong. It all feels wrong without her. She should have been here, laughing, teasing me, making the silence a little more bearable. But she’s not. She’s gone. She’s gone because of Lilith and my own failure to protect her.
And the balloons keep coming.
They keep reminding me of the truth I can never escape: Dove is gone, and no matter what I do, I can’t undo the damage I’ve caused. She’ll never come back—not like this. Not when I let her go for her own safety. Not when she’ll never trust me again.
The dark figures of the balloons continue to float by outside, mocking my torment. I watch them for a long time, my stomach in knots. The ache in my chest tightens, a raw, gnawing emptiness that I don’t know how to fill. The house is too big, too cold. The walls seem to close in on me with each passing minute.
She’s gone.
My chest feels tight. My throat constricts. I turn away from the window and walk back into the room, my footsteps echoing in the silence, the weight of my failure pressing down on me with every step. I don’t know how much longer I can keep pretending like I’m okay. Like I’m okay with what I did. Ican’t keep ignoring the truth that’s been festering deep inside of me.
The mansion is empty, but I’ve never felt more alone.
I can’t undo what’s been done.
But if I could… I would. In a heartbeat.
My pacing slows, my hands clenching and unclenching as I try to still the storm raging inside of me. Every inch of this house holds traces of her—a faint scent of her perfume still lingering on my clothes, her fingerprints smudged across the dusted-over books in the library, the ghost of her laughter echoing through these dark, silent halls. The mansion itself feels colder without her warmth, every shadow a reminder of the emptiness she left behind.
