I slump back into the dark, chains biting my wrists, the scent of her blood warm in the air, taunting me.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Kayden
I'm standing on the porch, watching the last burn of sunlight bleed into the trees, like the sky's been cut open. Everything's quiet except for the chaos inside my head.
The door creaks behind me. I don't need to turn. I know it's my brother.
"Since she's got this influence that works on vampires, it makes things harder," Asher says as he steps beside me, arms folded like we're on watch duty.
"You don't say." My voice is flat and tired.
Silence stretches for a beat.
"You don't want to see her," he says.
"I do. I did from the start." I grip the porch railing tighter.
"But you're scared," he adds without judgment.
"Yeah, I am." The admission tastes wrong in my mouth, but there it is.
He doesn't jump in. Just lets it hang there until I find the nerve to keep going.
"What if this is it? What if there's no coming back? What if the version of her we loved is… gone?"
"We can't think like that," he says quietly. Then, after a breath, "I can't. I can't let her last words to me be that hateful. I won't."
Asher shifts and adds, "We can't let this darkness destroy what we had."
I blow out a slow breath. "I keep wondering how real it was. What if we were only convenient?"
"No," he cuts in sharply, turning toward me. His hand lands on my shoulder. "Don't do that to yourself. Youknowwhat it was. Youfeltit. Maybe a part of you wants to believe you can't be loved, but that's not her voice, brother. That's yours."
That hits clean.
I swallow hard, jaw tight. And then he says, deadpan: "For the record, I love you, too. Even if you're a pain sometimes. Oftentimes."
That earns a snort out of me. "Well, don't get all sappy, Ash. You'll ruin your brooding rep."
He smirks, and I finally let the weight on my chest ease a little.
"Love you too, brother," I say. It's quiet, but real.
He pulls me into one of those stiff, manly hugs, complete with back pats and all the unspoken shit stuffed into the silence between us.
Then I straighten, roll my shoulders back, and say it. "I'll go to her."
He nods once. Another pat. No speeches. No good-lucks.
I step off the porch and head for the cellar.
My darkness is going to meet hers. What could possibly go wrong?
I close the door behind me and start down the stairs, slow and steady, like I'm walking into a lion's den.
Which, let's be honest, I am.
