“I know what it’s like to feel broken inside and have everyone tell you it’ll be fine.” He paused, like the words cost him something. “It doesn’t help. I know it doesn’t help.”
My breath caught, because the rumors about Tobias were everywhere. People were saying a vampire attack had nearly killed him a few years ago, that centuries of dark memories had been forced into his mind, and that he’d never been the same since.
Now here he was, a man who carried centuries of borrowed darkness in his head, the first person on this island who hadn’t tried to convince me that everything was going to be fine.
He was quiet for a moment, as if weighing his next words carefully.
“The official explanation is that emberlink bonds can behave unpredictably in unique circumstances,” he finally said. “They’re blaming magical interference from the sea.”
It sounded more like an apology than an answer.
“Do you think he’s coming back?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” he said, and then he added, “I’m sorry. That’s not what you needed to hear.”
“No.” I stared down at my untouched drink. “But it’s more than anyone else has given me these past eight days.”
His pale eyes lost focus, drifting past me to a place I couldn't follow, and the color left his face so fast it was like watching a candle sputter out. His fingers twitched at his side, and for a few horrible seconds, he wasn't there at all. He was standing right next to me, close enough to touch, but wherever his mind had gone, I couldn't reach him.
"Tobias?" I said, and my hand found his arm before I thought about it.
His breathing slowed, and his shoulders loosened, and he stared at my hand like he was memorizing the weight of it.
I pulled back before I could think better of it, heat flooding my cheeks.
“People don’t usually thank me for disappointing them.” He glanced down at his drink, then looked back up to me, as if whatever I said next would matter more to him than I could understand.
“You didn’t disappoint me. You were honest.” I kept my gaze locked on his, and from the way he blinked at me, you’d think no one had ever looked at him for this long. “Everyone else keeps telling me what they think I want to hear. You told me what you actually believe.”
The party noise swelled around us, but it felt distant and muffled, like we were standing in a bubble that only fit two.
“You said the bond feels wrong.” His tone was deliberate, like each word was being placed instead of spoken.
I nodded, that empty space in my chest hurting at the reminder.
“Have you told anyone else?”
“Who would I tell?” The thought came out more bitter than I intended. “His sister’s barely holding it together. His friends keep looking at me like I’m supposed to have answers. And the Council...” I gestured vaguely at him. “No offense.”
“None taken.” His mouth quirked, but his eyes stayed serious, and in the lingering few moments of silence, I thought that was going to be it. “But for what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re imagining the wrongness you’re feeling.”
Before I could press further, the hellhounds attacked, and he was gone.
Now, his pale eyes lift to meet ours, but there’s a faraway quality to them—like part of him is somewhere else entirely.
Then his gaze settles on me, the faraway look fades.
“Avery. Alessandra,” he says, soft and unhurried, like he’s measuring each word before letting it go. “Is everything okay?”
“Callie’s missing.” Alessandra doesn’t waste time with pleasantries. “She didn’t answer when I knocked on her door. We searched the entire dorm, and no one’s seen her since this morning. And my emberlink bond...” She presses a hand to her chest. “I can barely feel her anymore. It’s like she’s… well, I’ve never felt her this far away. Ever.”
Tobias sets down his paperwork slowly, recognition flickering across his face. It’s the look of a man who understands this kind of pain—who reallyseesthe person he’s talking to.
Just like how he saw me last night.
His eyes drift to me for a beat longer than necessary before settling on Alessandra.
“I know the past few days have been a lot.” He glances at the window, his eyes going far off for a second before he refocuses on us. “But sometimes when people are struggling, they withdraw. She might just need space.”
