Destiny’s eyes fluttered again.
“Regan?”
Regan broke.
Not loudly. Not dramatically. She pressed her knuckles to her mouth and made a sound that was worse than screaming.
“Yes,” she said, voice shaking. “Yes, baby girl. I’m right here.”
Tarak stepped into our path.
Edge looked like he might shove him aside.
But Tarak wasn’t looking at Edge.
His eyes were locked on Destiny’s face.
The floodlights hit her just then, catching the blood at her temple, the tear in her jacket, the wild fall of her black hair against my arm. Tarak went so pale I thought for one second he might drop.
“Mandy,” he whispered.
Every person in the yard heard it.
Silence landed like a bomb.
Regan went still.
Edge closed his eyes.
Destiny’s head shifted weakly against my chest.
Tarak flinched like he’d been struck.
Then his face folded in on itself.
“No.” His voice broke. “Destiny. I meant Destiny.”
Nobody said anything.
Nobody had to.
The past had just walked straight into the present and dragged every ghost with it.
Tarak’s jaw ticked once. Twice. Three times. His hands curled into fists at his sides.
“Another wreck,” he said, barely above a whisper. “Another wreck. History is repeating itself.”
Regan’s tears spilled over.
“Tarak,” she said softly.
He shook his head, not at her, not at anyone. At the memory. At the whole merciless shape of it.
“I can’t go through this twice.”
Destiny made a small sound.
Not pain.
