Page 153 of The Girl Who Only Died Once

“I’m so sorry,” Chloe breathes, and he grips her tighter. “I’m so sorry, I put you through that, I shouldn’t have, I’m so sorry…”

His words from before, of telling her she’s too selfish, of all the hurt and fear and terror he had. Of all the risks she took, of the natural anger he had, all crash into her.

He fists his hands into the back of her jacket, just like he did when she first told him that there is a way he could be accepted, even without his powers and his abilities and everything he did.

Behind them, Killian and Ambra resume deliberations, lower than before, some presumption of privacy.

Cause she had died. She had made her best friend, practically a brother, watch. Out of a selfish reason she could’ve found another way around.

Because even though it benefited her. Even though it brought her to Killian, even though they’re so close to finding the spirit fox, it still hurt him.

“Can you hear me now?” Gurlien mumbles.

“Yeah, it…it faded,” Chloe says, and to her horror, she’s almost tearing up. “I’m okay, I’m…I’m okay.”

“Your ribs are still messed up,” Seanna mutters behind them, and Gurlien pulls away from Chloe enough to give the pre-teen a critical look. “And your glasses are fixed but your face is still scarring.”

“When this is all done, you owe me an explanation on how you stumbled into dealing with that situation,” Gurlien mutters, and he’s frowning again, but this one’s familiar. The frown he puts on when he doesn’t want to broadcast all his emotions.

“Apparently, when this is done I owe a bunch of Wights to break into a bunch of bases for them and free people still in captivity,” Chloe says, half wincing, and Gurlien claps her on her back. “Remember Stella?”

Ambra cuts off mid-word, before shaking herself loose and continuing whatever whispered conversation with Killian.

“Hard to forget,” Gurlien says dryly.

“I got dumped at the cabin and had to run away and her mom helped me escape,” Chloe says, and it feels like so long ago that it happened. “So I’ll probably be doing that…”

Finally, Gurlien grips her by the shoulders, giving her just about the strictest of looks he could possibly summon up, only belied by the lightness in his eyes, the sheer relief in the micro expressions of his face.

“Don’t do that again,” he says, and his voice breaks, just a bit. “Don’t you ever take a risk like that again.”

Behind them, with Ambra and Killian now hissing conversation back and forth in a language that Chloe absolutelydoesn’t recognize, Seanna makes a small sound, like she wants to ask a question but desperately doesn’t want to interrupt.

So Chloe breaks the contact and gestures her over, and Seanna favors her with the dirtiest of looks a pre-teen can summon up before stepping close.

“Why are they arguing?” she asks, dipping her voice lower than probably necessary. “You said they’d help, they said they’d help, now they’re upset.”

Chloe glances at Gurlien, who glances right back.

“How much does she understand about demons?” Gurlien asks, right over her head.

“More than you!” Seanna immediately shoots back.

Once Killian issatisfied with whatever terms Ambra gives him and swears to do whatever Ambra tells him to do, he gives a rather tearful Seanna a hug before whisking Chloe away.

This time, back to the threadbare shack in the desert—the one with no door, where the wind blows harshly through the cracks in the boarded-up window.

Chloe stumbles on the sand-smoothed wooden slates of the floor, and the band aid she tried to transform is still tucked between the bare cot and the wall.

Before letting her go, Killian stills, his eyes flashing red, his power flexing until every nook and cranny is flooded with him, obviously testing his wards.

He finds what he wants and gentles his hand on her arm. “The only thing that’s been here is a curious Wight,” he says, a tremor running under his tone. “And they backed off the moment they realized this was a demon spot.”

Chloe grabs his hand—even after a few weeks, the new callouses still startle her every time—and pulls him to sit on the bare cot with her.

He puts up far less of a fight than she thought he would, blinking up at her, the shifting double face slack, his shoulders slumped.

“She’s safe,” Chloe says, and he nods, obviously giving in and leaning his head against her shoulder. “She’s safe, probably in the safest place in the world from them right now.”

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