Page 20 of Wraith

Kael crouched to pick up the coin again, his hand trembling as he clutched it tightly. He sank onto the edge of the bed, his head in his hands, his breath ragged and uneven.

“This isn’t happening,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “It’s not real. It’s not?—”

I smiled, a sharp, bitter thing that felt foreign on my face.

“Oh, Kael,” I cooed, my voice dripping with satisfaction. “You’re not losing it. Not yet.”

Twelve

Campus at nightfelt like a graveyard. The buildings stood tall and silent, their windows glowing faintly, like the dull embers of a fire long forgotten. Pathways that were usually crowded and alive during the day stood empty now, the only sound my footsteps crunching against the gravel.

I didn’t know where I was going. I didn’t care.

My breath misted in the cold air, dissipating as quickly as it formed, just like every thought I tried to push away. The thought of the bond tugged at the edge of my mind, faint and persistent, a constant reminder of what I had done. Of what we had all done.

I shoved my hands deeper into my pockets, my fingers curling into fists. It didn’t matter how far I walked or how many times I told myself to let it go. Her face was there, waiting for me the moment I closed my eyes. The way she’d looked at me—pleading, broken, desperate—like I was some kind of monster.

No, not some kind. Iwasa monster.

The streetlights buzzed faintly above me, their flickering light casting long shadows across the pavement. I couldn’t decide ifthe sound was comforting or maddening. It was something, at least. Better than the silence that clawed at my ears when I was alone in my dorm.

Better than the sound of her voice in my head.

“You had a choice,” I muttered, the words bitter on my tongue. My voice sounded foreign to me, like it belonged to someone else. Someone stronger. Someone braver. Someone who hadn’t stood in that theater and let it happen.

I rubbed my eyes, the image of her on the stage burned into the backs of my eyelids. Her wide, frightened eyes. The way she stumbled back, her hands reaching for something—anything—to stop her fall. The sickening crack when she hit the stage.

My stomach churned, bile rising in my throat. I doubled over, gripping the edge of a bench as the memory replayed in vivid detail. Her blood pooling beneath her head. The way none of us moved. The way I didn’t move.

She looked at me. Even then, she had looked at me, like I could save her.

And I hadn’t.

I dragged myself upright, my breath hitching as I swallowed hard. The cold air burned my lungs, but it didn’t clear my head. Nothing could clear my head. Not when every step I took on this empty campus felt like walking through her ghost.

“I didn’t mean to,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “I didn’t mean for it to go that far.”

The words felt hollow, even to me. What did it matter if I didn’t mean it? Intentions didn’t undo what had already been done. They didn’t bring her back.

I veered off the main path, my feet carrying me toward the theater without thinking. My chest tightened as the building came into view, its darkened facade looming against the night sky. I froze, my breath hitching as I stared at the boarded windows and the peeling paint.

I hadn’t been back here since that night. I couldn’t.

But my legs moved anyway, dragging me forward until I stood at the edge of the steps. The door creaked faintly in the wind, and for a moment, I thought about going inside. About standing on that stage and staring at the stain that wouldn’t come out.

I turned away instead, my hands shaking as I shoved them back into my pockets. The night pressed in around me, heavy and suffocating, and I started walking again, anywhere but here.

I wanted to ignore the bond, to shove it away, but it was impossible to ignore. Always there, always pulling, always reminding me of what I couldn’t change.

I hated it. I hatedherfor existing. For forcing this bond on us.

But mostly, I hated myself.

“She deserved better,” I muttered, my voice barely audible. The words echoed in my head, louder and louder until they drowned out everything else.

I thought about the night in the theater, the way we’d all laughed like it was some kind of joke. Like we weren’t tearing her apart piece by piece.

Kael's sneer. Thorne’s taunts. Lucian’s smirk. Aeron's nonchalance.

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