Page 60 of Midnight at the Magnolia

“Neither did I,”Lauren whispers.“But we all make our choices.”

Before I can respond, she brings the butt of the gun down on my temple. There’s a moment of searing pain, the taste of copper flooding my mouth. Then the world goes black, the darkness swallowing me whole.

As consciousness slips away, my last thought is of Celeste—not the woman who just betrayed me, but the woman I fell in love with. In that final moment before oblivion claims me, I realize that despite everything, I still love her.

“Love’s what got us both killed,”Lauren’s voice fades with my consciousness.“You just haven’t realized you’re dead yet.”

And that, more than anything, is what truly terrifies me.

16

CELESTE

BAYOU HERALD

Anonymous tip leads to massive document leak exposing corruption. Sources suggest possible connection to Viper killings. City officials scramble to contain scandal.

The soundof Ethan’s body hitting the floor echoes in my mind like the death rattle of nightshade berries dropping in Grandma’s garden. I stand over him, his gun heavy in my hand, the metal still warm from his grip. For a moment, I’m frozen, cataloging details like Grandma taught me to study poisonous plants:

The vulnerable curve of his neck.

How peaceful his face looks in unconsciousness.

The steady rise and fall of his chest.

The trust I’ve just shattered, as delicate as moonflower petals.

“Some cuts go too deep to heal, child,”Grandma’s voice whispers in my memory.“Like pruning too close to the root.”

“We need to go. Now.” Alex’s voice cuts through my shock, urgent and low. The sound makes my skin crawl—a cottonmouth’s warning before it strikes.

I look up at him, then back at Ethan’s unconscious form. His face, usually so full of warmth and trust, is slack and vulnerable. Like morning glory exposed to frost, something beautiful destroyed by necessity. It breaks something inside me, something I didn’t know could still break.

“We can’t just leave him here.” The words taste bitter on my tongue, like unripe elderberries.

Alex’s eyes narrow, cold and calculating. Snake eyes, Grandma would say. The kind that see prey, not people. “What are you suggesting? We don’t have time for this, Celeste.”

“Even the deadliest bloom needs tending,”Grandma’s voice echoes.“Choose your poisons carefully, child. Some kill quick, some kill slow, but they all take something from the gardener.”

In that split second, I make a decision that will change everything. The weight of it settles on my shoulders, heavy as August air before a storm. “Help me with him. We’re taking him with us.”

Alex curses, but moves to grab Ethan’s legs. Together, we awkwardly maneuver him through the back door of the diner and into Alex’s waiting car. The cool night air hits my face as we step outside, carrying the scent of rain and jasmine—nature’s own warnings about storms to come.

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