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I turn the worn knob slowly. The door creaks loudly enough to make me wince. It swings inward to reveal a narrow spiral staircase winding up into the darkness.

I glance back down the hall, half expecting Edwin to appear, half expecting the pale woman to be waiting there again.

But there’s nothing.

So I climb.

The steps are cold under my feet. The walls close in tight, the air cooler the higher I go, until I reach a small door and push it open onto the roof of a tower.

A breeze hits my face, and I inhale sharply. The town stretches below, quiet and sleeping, streetlights glowing softly. The Cirrus Hotel rises proudly above everything, a scattering of windows still lit despite the hour. Inside, Ophidia is still awake with people pretending to be someone else for the night.

The Mississippi cuts through the land like a dark ribbon, wide and restless. Beyond it stretches a world of strangers, none of whom know my name or care what happens to me.

Elias Crotavere built this manor on the bluff for a reason. Up here, you can see everything.

I rest my hands on the low railing and try to breathe the tension out of my chest. But the weight of responsibility is still there, sitting squarely where my ribs ache. The Crotaveres aren’t just a family in this town. They’re part of the mythology. Their name hangs over Shadow Bluff like a story people have agreed to keep alive. And if I’m at Edwin’s side, then that story becomes mine too.

This is my town now. It could really be my home.

With Edwin.

The thought brings a tender ache to my heart. I’ve never had a home that actually wanted me. I’ve had rooms. A bed I waited in, hoping my father’s anger would burn out before he remembered I existed again. I’ve had spaces designed to contain me.

Edwin’s bed feels safe in the way a weapon feels safe in a capable hand. Dangerous to everyone except the person holding it.

But would the people of Shadow Bluff accept me? They adored Vanessa. Her name hangs over this place, mourned and impossible to compete with. She belongs to the town in a way I never will. And I’m…

What am I?

A girl from Des Moines with a toxic family and a dead brother. A nobody who stumbled into their world with blood on her nightgown and fear on her tongue. A girl who should have been easy to break, yet keeps surviving horrors she never could have imagined.

The wind circles the tower again, cool against my cheeks, tugging at the robe around my legs.

Then a presence comes up behind me. A mass of warmth presses close, and strong arms lock at my waist. He always finds me.

I let myself lean back into him.

“I think I saw a ghost,” I say nonchalantly.

He hums an acknowledgment. “There are plenty of them here.”

“It was a woman.”

“My mother, perhaps.” His mouth brushes against my hair. “I wonder why she won’t leave.”

“Maybe she’s worried about you.”

He turns me until my back meets the low railing. Three stories up, the drop behind me is very real. His hands bracket me in, and the world can’t reach me when he’s standing this close.

A solemn weight darkens his eyes. It could be the shadows making him appear older, but there are moments when I catch glimpses of how much grief he carries, and they always make my heart ache.

“Maybe she’s warning you,” he says.

A chill runs through me, and my shoulders tremble.

“About what?” I can feel something sitting in his chest, some thought he’s been holding down.

He takes my hands.