Page 26 of Wraith

Kael slammed his fist against the counter, the sound sharp enough to echo. “So, what? You humiliated him instead? That’s better?”

The energy in the room was electric, the weight of their emotions tangling beautifully in the air. I moved toward Kael next, my voice a soft, taunting purr. “You think Aeron’s the only one who failed him? What about you? What did you do while he fell apart?”

Kael’s fists clenched, his breath hissing through his teeth. “We all let him down,” he muttered, the guilt twisting his features. “But Aeron?—”

“Don’t,” Aeron snapped, rising from his seat. “Don’t you dare put this all on me. I wasn’t the only one who?—”

Lucian cut him off, his voice sharp enough to slice through the chaos. “Then who, Aeron? Who else is to blame? You’re the one who ignored him.”

Aeron’s fists clenched, his voice rising. “What about you? You’ve been so wrapped up in your own shit that you didn’t even notice him falling apart!”

The argument escalated, their voices crashing into each other in a crescendo of blame and guilt. I let myself bask in it, the bond feeding me their anguish like nectar. It was almost too easy.

But I wanted more.

I turned my focus inward, following the faint thread of Ciaran’s bond to where he lingered, aimless and broken in the dorm where he died. It took only a slight tug to bring him to me.

He appeared beside me, flickering like a half-formed shadow, his eyes wide as he took in the scene. “What’s happening?” he whispered, his voice trembling.

I smiled, my lips curling with delight. “They’re grieving you,” I said simply. “It’s messy, isn’t it?”

Ciaran stepped closer, his gaze darting between his friends. His expression crumbled as he saw the raw pain etched into their features. “They’re blaming each other,” he said, his voice heavy with disbelief. “They shouldn’t?—”

“They should,” I interrupted, my tone light and mocking. “Because it’s their fault, isn’t it? All of them played a part.”

“No,” Ciaran said quickly, shaking his head. “It wasn’t—it wasn’t like that.”

“Oh, but it was,” I cooed, drifting toward Lucian. I leaned close, my breath brushing against his ear as I whispered, “It’s all falling apart, Lucian. And you can’t fix it.”

Lucian froze mid-step, his jaw tightening as the thought took root. “This is pointless,” he muttered, his voice low and clipped. “Arguing won’t bring him back.”

Kael rounded on him, his frustration boiling over. “So what, we just forget about it? Pretend it didn’t happen?”

Ciaran’s hands reached for Kael, his form flickering as his fingers passed through him. “Kael, stop,” he pleaded. “This isn’t what I wanted.”

I watched him struggle, his desperation growing with every failed attempt to be heard. My grin widened as I leaned toward Aeron, my voice a soft murmur. “He hates you most, you know. You were his last hope, and you failed him.”

Aeron flinched, his expression twisting as he shoved past Kael. “I can’t do this,” he snapped, heading for the door.

Ciaran turned to me, his stormy eyes wide with horror. “You’re doing this,” he said, his voice trembling. “You’re tearing them apart.”

I laughed, the sound sharp and delighted. “Sucks, doesn’t it?” I said, my voice dripping with satisfaction. “Watching and not being able to do anything. You’re just like me now.”

Seventeen

The cold metalof the dumbbell felt good against my palm, grounding me in the way nothing else could. The rhythmic sound of weights clinking, the sharp tang of sweat and iron—it was the closest I got to peace these days. But even here, the bond hummed faintly, like a whisper in the back of my mind I couldn’t shake.

Ciaran’s face kept flashing behind my eyelids. The hollow look in his eyes the last time I saw him. The way he slumped in his seat that day, his voice quieter than usual when he tried to talk about her.

You told him to stop. You shut him down.

I gritted my teeth and lifted the dumbbell higher, ignoring the tightening in my chest. He was talking about Lily, like we hadn’t all silently agreed to bury that along with her body. I’d thought shutting him down was the right call at the time—protecting him from the spiral I’d been teetering on myself.

And now he’s gone.

The weight dropped to the ground with a thud, the sound echoing across the empty gym. My breathing was ragged, my chest heaving as I glared at the mirrored wall in front of me. My reflection stared back, disheveled and drenched in sweat, but all I could see was failure.I should’ve done more. Said more. Listened.

The air felt heavier than usual, pressing against my skin as I grabbed a towel and wiped my face. My phone buzzed on the bench nearby, the notification lighting up the screen. A group message. Lucian’s name at the top.

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