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The man who has created my nightmares, who has towered over me again and again—the one who brought death into my life is now kneeling at my feet the way I imagined he always wanted me to do.

“What are you doing?”

He reaches for my hand, slowly and carefully, giving me the chance to pull away… but I don’t. Not because I want him to touch me, but because I’m almost too stunned to remember that I shouldn’t. His hand wraps around mine with a gentleness that makes me sick.

He touches me like he doesn’t want me to break. It’s too late for that.

Preston turns my hand over and presses a kiss against my scraped knuckles.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers against my skin before placing another kiss there. My body has forgotten how to function, unable to swallow or breathe.

This… is the Preston I’d started falling for. The man who was sweet and could comfort me, who spoke to me like I was extraordinary when I felt painfully invisible. For one terrifying second, Ghost disappears, and it’s just Preston again.

His hands move to the outsides of my thighs, sliding up to my hips, dragging me closer to him. He gives me another kiss, but this time on my hipbone, and it causes my skin to break out in goosebumps. I hate myself for feeling so conflicted about him, when it’s so obvious to me how evil he truly is.

My own hands somehow find their way to the back of his head, tangling my fingers in his short hair, allowing him to rest his head against my stomach.

Just as quickly as I’d forgotten, the memories come back again.

“Don’t,” I whisper harshly, taking a step away from him.

He moves on his knees, following me, but I take another two steps back.

“No. Don’t touch me.”

His eyes close, and a breath of defeat deflates his chest. He knows how close he’d come to getting me to forget everything.

“Please. I’m on my knees, begging you to be mine. That’s all I want, Wynnie, I mean fuck…” His words are angry, but it’s almost as if the frustration can’t find them. I want to feel bad for him, but when I think of Caleb and Blaire and Hudson—when I think of what I did to Ellie—any feeling of remorse washes away.

I grab the butter knife sitting on the table quickly, pressing it to the underside of his chin.

“Leave me alone,” I demand, keeping my grip tight on the silverware.

“You’re going to kill me with that?” A smile breaks through as he speaks.

“It’ll be a lot of work, but it’ll be worth it.”

“Do it then, because if you won’t be mine, there’s no point in any of this.”

I add pressure, the knife dimpling his skin. He’s staring up at me, jaw tight and eyes meeting mine with a glint of sadness.

“After what I did to Ellie, I know I could kill you and forget about your existence without even an afterthought.”

“Do it.”

My teeth press together so hard that it feels like they are going to crack. Still on his knees, he moves closer to me again, both of his hands wrapping around mine, holding the knife. “Make me suffer. A life without you is worse than what I would endure from this.”

I rip my hand away, throwing the knife to the ground. My empty hands find his shoulders, and I shove him backwards; he loses his balance and hits the floor too.

“Fuck you, Preston! Fuck you for getting into my head like this! I want to fucking kill you—dig your grave and put you in the ground next to Ellie and Caleb. But goddamn it, it’s like I lose track of what I’m supposed to be doing when you look at me like that.”

“I can’t help how I look at you. You’re my world.”

I wish I could think straight; I wish so badly that he would disappear. At the same time, I wish I could let Preston in. Not Ghost. Preston.

He gets back up on his knees, hands touching my hips again. “I want to look at you… touch you…” His hands slide up my sides,

“Don’t,” I tell him again, but it lacks conviction. I’m not entirely sure I mean it.