Page 106 of Haunt Me, Maybe

I slammed into Gideon with the full force of my existence. The impact shattered what remained of his composure, and he screamed. He grabbed for me, but I was already there, driving him backward step by brutal step.

I wrapped myself around him and pushed. Behind us, I heard Aven scream. A sound that ripped through me worse than any vortex ever could. It held the kind of grief that could end worlds. The kind of grief I’d become the cause of.

“No! Wes—WES!”

Her voice cracked on my name, splintering into sobs that followed me like shrapnel. The vortex destabilized instantly. With something living and tangible inside of it, it imploded. The mill moved. Its foundation dropped, and earth slid to entomb that writhing hole of magic like a massive jaw snapping shut. It dragged Gideon with it.

Dragged me.

Pressure built beyond comprehension. Light and dark sliced through what remained of me at once. Every memory tore open. Every frozen second since my death.

Every moment with her—I held on to those the tightest. The quiet nights when she talked to the dark, the way her hand pressed against my chest like she could feel my heart, the promise I’d made to stay.

They all flashed bright and then began to fade. Gideon thrashed in my grip, but I held tighter. Pushed harder. There was a final, catastrophic burst of light, and then⁠—

Silence.

The mill stilled. The wind died. Gideon stopped moving, and I finally let him go. He sank away from me while I remained trapped under that last slice of earth. I could almost make out the violet and gold wisps from here. So close. So close but…I was gone.

It was the end for me, but Aven was still there. And that was enough.

Aven

Smoke filled the mill like the last exhale of something that had fought to the death and lost. It clung to every surface, every crack, every fresh scar the building had taken for us tonight. My circle was shattered, its chalk smeared into hopeless gray streaks; its runes burned black.

I fell to my knees and pressed my palms to the cold floor, fingers splaying wide, clawing at nothing; like if I held on hard enough, I could drag him back from wherever the dark had taken him. The vortex was gone. The center of the room was scorched black …but solid.

The crows were gone too, and their absence left a silence heavier than their screaming ever had. The air was still. Too still. The kind that settled over a battlefield when the last body stopped breathing. I didn’t care. Not about any of it—the mill or the safety of the town.

I didn’t care about anything except the empty spot where my heart used to be.

“No,” I whispered. The word cracked the quiet. “No, no, no, no—” The whisper became a sob, then a raw scream that tore out of me until my throat strained. “Wes!”

Nothing answered.

The space where he stood was empty. The shadows didn’t ripple. No familiar chill brushed my skin. No quiet voice murmured from over my shoulder, warm and steady and mine. He was gone. Truly gone. And the worst part—the cruelest part—was that Gideon was gone too.

The monster who’d stalked every breath I’d taken since I was eight was finally, irrevocably ended. It was victory—freedom. And yet here I was, once again alone. Once again, heartbroken.

Why did the universe always demand this price? Love or happiness. Safety or the people who made safety worth having. I’d let myself believe in a future.

What was I supposed to do now?

Go back to that attic and pretend the silence wasn’t screaming? Work at the café, smile at customers, pour coffee with hands that still remembered the shape of his?

Walk these streets knowing every corner would cut me open with a memory? Or worse—leave. Pack a bag, buy a ticket, vanish into some new nowhere where nothing reminded me of him at all.

My chest heaved. I couldn’t breathe around the grief. I couldn’t survive this. Couldn’t keep going. Couldn’t⁠—

Something groaned in the dark, and my head snapped up. Across the room, half-hidden behind a collapsed beam dusted in ash and splinters…something moved. A body. My heart stopped—actually stopped.

I scrambled to my feet, stumbling over debris and ignoring the sharp ache in my ribs, the burn in my legs, the way the world tilted. I drew closer and familiar features slowly resolved through the haze: dark hair matted with soot, a torn shirt, the line of his jaw, the faint scar on his throat I’d traced with my eyes a thousand times.

Wes.

He lay on his back, clothes shredded and skin streaked black and gray. A thin line of blood trickled from his temple. I dropped beside him so hard my knees bruised.

“Wes.”