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I was close, so close, but I didn’t.

“I don’t know.”

“The guilt would kill you,” Ryden whispered. He buried his face in my hair. “You try to act like you kill only to satisfy this hunger, but you lie, love. You kill to protect those who can’t protect themselves just as much as you kill to protect yourself.”

“You think so highly of me, but you’re wrong.”

“No,” he said. “I’m not wrong. Never.”

I followed Ryden into my house. Locking the front door, we moved toward my childhood bedroom. Unlocking all the locks, I stepped into the room where I had claimed my first kill.

“This is where I killed my father. The monster under the bed was gone,” I said, my stomach sinking. No one could know that, could they? That was… something only I knew. It was my secret—mine and my grandfather’s—but Grandpa was long dead.

Ryden surveyed the room filled with monitors, laptops, sound systems, and microphones.

“This is where you record your podcast,” he said, studying the equipment scattered around.

It had been a while since I had recorded anything.

You should just stop, Kat said. With everything going on, you need to be careful.

But this is you. Your dream.

And I’m dead.

“Under the bed,” Ryden said. “There’s no bed now.”

“The couch… that was where the bed once was,” I said.

How could this fucking bastard know that?

Ryden dropped to one knee and pulled out a red box.

Had there been a bomb inside it, I wouldn’t have feared it. But there was no bomb. There was something worse—much worse. Inside that little box was Sister Serena’s life. She had once saved me, and now she would die for that.

She always wore a kind smile for everyone, but it vanished the day she found me drenched in blood. She protected me. She bore the weight of my sins, carrying the burden in silence for two long years before quietly walking away.

And now she was here, paying the price for me once again.

Kat. Daphne. Miranda. Amy. Rishi. Now… Sister Serena.

How many more do I have to lose to him before I finally catch the bastard?

How many more graves must I dig into my soul?

I am tired. So tired.

My fingers were frozen as I pulled a rusted key from the box, staring at the small red bow and cross tied to it.

“The key was mine. After Robert Miller died, Sister Serena made sure every one of us had locks on our doors. And this... this is the cross she used to wear.”

“Oh, love, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” I said, leaning against the hard length of his body for support. I felt like I might collapse, but I knew he wouldn’t let me fall. He’d carry me for as long as I needed him to. That was something I had never had before.

Now that I had it, I feared I might lose it soon.

Don’t let it go, Kat whispered. Never. You deserve him, Yara. You deserve this happiness.