Page 49 of Wraith

But there was something else there too. Something unsettling. Something that made my chest ache in ways I didn’t want to acknowledge.

A slow smirk tugged at her lips, eyes alight with mischief as she tilted her head. "Still sulking, Lucian? I expected more of a fight."

I clenched my jaw. "A fight?" I echoed. "What would be the point? You made sure of everything."

Lilith sighed, stepping closer, her fingers trailing along the air as if brushing an invisible thread that tied us together. "And yet, you still act like you have a choice."

Ciaran exhaled sharply, gaze flicking between us. "We don't have a choice," he said, quieter. "We never did."

Lilith smiled at that, pleased. "You see? Ciaran understands. He's always understood." She turned her attention fully on him, reaching out to press her fingers against his chest, right over where his heart had once beaten. "You've been so loyal."

Ciaran didn't move away. He didn’t resist. He only watched her with something twisted, something devoted.

I wasn’t sure which was worse—his unwavering obedience, or the fact that I could feel myself unraveling, too.

Because even as she smiled like she owned me, I saw her in there. Not just Lilith, the thing that haunted me, but Lily—the girl who had once laughed, who had been something softer. The one I had loved. The one I took for granted. The one I killed.

And it was that glimpse—fleeting, barely there—that terrified me most.

Lilith turned to me now, her expression shifting—something darker, something softer. "Still pretending like you can fight me, Lucian?" she murmured, reaching up to trace a cold finger along my jawline.

The pull between us tightened, coiled, an undeniable force dragging me toward her. I hated how much I felt it. How much I still wanted her, even knowing what she had done.

"You killed us," I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper.

Lilith only smiled, her fingers trailing down my chest in a featherlight touch. "And yet, here you are. Still mine."

Ciaran exhaled, stepping closer. "Just stop fighting, Lucian. Stop pretending. It’s easier that way."

His voice sent a chill down my spine. He was completely gone.

But I wasn’t. Not yet.

I shook my head, but my body betrayed me, already leaning toward her, already surrendering to the pull.

Lilith let out a soft hum, her hand flattening against my chest, pressing just enough for me to feel the weight of her claim. "There it is," she whispered, lips curving. "That moment when you finally realize... you were always going to be mine."

Her other hand slipped into Ciaran’s hair, nails scratching lightly over his scalp as he closed his eyes and leaned into the touch like he was starving for it.

"He stopped fighting first," she murmured, gaze flickering back to me. "It didn’t take much. Just a little patience. A little pressure."

Ciaran turned his head slightly, his lips grazing the inside of her wrist in silent worship. "You never had to force me, Lilith."

I wanted to deny it.

But I couldn’t.

Because that flicker of her—the girl I had loved—was there. And I didn’t know if it was real or if she wanted me to see it. If she was showing me mercy, or if she was making sure I fell harder.

Lilith’s lips parted in satisfaction, her fingers curling under my chin, forcing my gaze to hers. "And you? How much longer will you pretend, Lucian?"

I swallowed hard, the answer clawing at my throat, desperate to escape. But I couldn’t say it.

Not yet.

Lilith only smiled.

She could wait.

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