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Callie: Marlowe??

yes, I typed, my vision puddled with tears. she took it

Callie: omg thank god

Jess: wow

Priya: ok now you have to slay at the pool party

The pool party.

I had no idea how I was supposed to survive that. Presenting Damian as my twin flame to Vivienne’s friends while my soul burned. Fake dating the man who’d quietly destroyed me. I’d thought I could survive overcoming the coven because Damian had taught me to believe in my own strength. The cave had been a test, and I’d passed. Summoning Clemency in a derelict home had been another. But I’d never guessed that the biggest test would be finishing the job after he’d broken me. It was the darkest twist of all.

My head pounded with a beat that dizzied me. I chugged water at the sink, looked at the counter where Damian had touched me and shown me exactly what heaven feels like, and it punched me in the gut. I loved him. I resented him. I was already mourning him. And more than anything, I resented myself for allowing this to happen. For taking about five minutes to fall in love, completely and hopelessly, with a man who worked for an actual, honest-to-god coven of serial killers with a skincare line. I laughed a terrible, horrible laugh.

In the worst of it, when it hurt so bad I struggled to breathe, I realized that the pain of knowing I needed to let him go had made me love him even more, which felt twice as unfair. I opened his bag, pulled out one of his T-shirts, and wore it. I breathed it in and screamed into it. I screamed about the mess I was in. About how a night around a fire and a month of tortured love had ruined my life. I blamed Vivienne for all of it and howled in fetal position.

I lay in bed, cocooned under the covers, where my pillow still smelled of him. When sleep finally arrived, it came with nightmares of Octavia murdering tiny birds with a delicate hat pin, then coming for my throat.

When I woke at seven, I had three blissful liminal seconds before I remembered what had happened the day before, and I thought Damian was lying next to me. I inhaled grief and it sat serrated in my throat.

In the kitchen, I had a near-panic attack that had me reaching for a paper bag to breathe into. Too much caffeine and cortisol and desperation at seven in the morning. Over coffee, I considered packing a bag and simply leaving. Calling Lauren and explaining everything. Telling her we had to go on the run for a while. Then I crumpled a piece of junk mail and swore. I couldn’t possibly do that to my sister. She had a job at a hospital. A mortgage to pay. The less she knew, the safer she’d be.

I showered, but I put his T-shirt right back on. I sent a few vague messages to the group chat, reassuring them everything was ready for the pool party tomorrow. That we were going to get this done. That things would be okay. I had no faith they would be.

At around ten, my phone buzzed. I sighed, expecting more questions from the group chat.

But it was from Damian.

tell me you’re okay. I can’t stand this. I love you.

That sent me right back to bed to scream into a pillow and shake again. To writhe in the pain of not returning his text. I wanted to tell him that I loved him, too. That I loved him more than ever. But love wasn’t the question anymore. His message changed nothing about the woman he had given up or the line I had drawn in the wreckage of the night before.

So I didn’t reply. Eventually, I would have to tell him what I had decided. That I was letting him go, despite loving him so much it made me stupid. And I would have to ask for his help to free myself anyway.

If I couldn’t be his love, at least I’d be his penance.

The afternoon passed slowly. None of the pain had eased. I sat on the balcony when I thought my own tortured breath would suffocate me inside. I ate half a protein bar. Drank coffee until my fingers tingled. Fantasized about a cigarette I hadn’t smoked for nine years. Fantasized about setting the coven headquarters on fire. Tomorrow loomed more every hour.

Sometime in the early evening, the doorbell rang. I froze. Adrenaline zipped up my forearms.

I pressed the door buzzer. “Who’s there?”

“It’s Kai. Can we talk about tomorrow?”

I hesitated. It was strange that he’d driven over, when he could have just called. But I needed him for the pool party. I buzzed him in.

With a grunt, I slid the dresser away from the door.

Kai appeared in the doorway with salt still in his hair, like he’d been dragged from the beach. He frowned when I opened the door.

“Marlowe, you—”

“Look like shit? Yes, I know. Come in.”

I ushered him into the kitchen and somehow found the strength to talk about wine. I told him to arrive at one-thirty. The whites were Sonoma Coast, the rosé was dry and mineral, the orange wine was textural, and none of them were to be described as funky. He was to pour lightly, keep the women away from the deep end after their fourth glass, and, if cornered by Vivienne, use the words saline, elegant, and quietly volcanic until she released him. And, most importantly, he was to make himself softly available to any woman who looked lonely enough to be gently coerced into signing up for the retreat. He was to mention in passing that he knew me because I was Damian’s twin flame and that, like Damian, he had met a woman from Aurora’s retreat. Perhaps he could make a light joke about the magic working. The thought made me sick.

He nodded thoughtfully, as if it was all very doable, and I was grateful for that.