Page 176 of Buried in Blood
And at the end of the hall—him.
Reese.
He’s standing in a doorway. Dressed in black, head bowed, hands bloodied. But when he looks up, I forget how to breathe.
Because he sees me.
The version of me I buried long ago.
Not the broken, haunted girl.
Not the weapon Damien forged and discarded.
But me.
Barefoot, trembling, real.
“Why are you here?” I ask, voice echoing around us like wind through a mausoleum.
“To find you,” he says.
“You shouldn’t be.”
“I never left.”
He steps forward. With every movement, the hallway behind him darkens. The lights shatter one by one. But I don’t move.
I let him come.
“I’m not worth it,” I whisper.
He cups my face like I’m made of glass, tracing the scar under my jaw with a reverence I don’t deserve.
“I decide what’s worth it,” he says.
The fog rolls in thicker.
Suddenly, we’re standing in water—ankle deep. Cold. Still. A lake stretching out infinitely. We’re the only ones left in the world.
“You lied to him,” he says quietly.
“Who?”
“Damien. When you said you were his.”
I nod. “It was the only way to survive.”
Reese’s hand drops to my throat. Not hard. Not cruel.
Just… claiming.
“You don’t have to lie anymore.”
The water ripples beneath us, turning darker. Warmer.
Red.
It climbs up my calves. My thighs. It stains the edges of the sky.
