Page 25 of Wraith

I stepped closer, my presence cold and suffocating. “Lily is dead,” I spat. “You killed her. I’m what’s left.”

His chest rose and fell in uneven gasps, his wide eyes searching mine like I was some puzzle he could solve if he just tried hard enough. Good. Let him try. Let him drown in it.

“I didn’t mean to,” he said, his voice breaking. “You have to believe me. I didn’t want any of this to happen.”

I laughed again, the sound cold and hollow, echoing off the tiled walls. “Didn’t mean to?” I repeated, my head shaking with disbelief. “You stood there. You watched. And when it was over, you left. You could’ve gotten help, but instead, you left me there like garbage.”

His breath hitched, tears brimming in his eyes. “I know,” he said quickly, his words tumbling over one another. “I know I did. And I’ve been trying?—”

“Trying?” I cut him off, my voice icy. “Trying to do what, Ciaran? Redeem yourself? Do you think this—killing yourself—makes it better? That it balances the scales?”

His shoulders sagged, his gaze falling to the floor. “I couldn’t live with it,” he said softly, his voice trembling. “The guilt… the weight of it. It was too much.”

“Too much,” I repeated, tasting the bitterness of the words. “You have no idea what ‘too much’ even means. You went about your life, playing at grief, while I was stuck here. Watching. Always watching.”

His shoulders sagged, his gaze falling to the floor. “I thought… I thought it would end there,” he said softly, his voice trembling. “That when you were gone, it would all just… stop.”

“Stop?” I repeated, my tone sharpening. “You thought it was that simple? That my death would be the neat little solution to all your problems?”

He winced, his hands twitching at his sides. “I didn’t know what else to think,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “I couldn’t see a way out. Not for you. Not for me.”

“You didn’t want to see,” I snapped, the lights flickering faintly with the force of my anger. “You stood there. You watched. Then you left me there. You could have gotten help. Instead, you left your fated mate's body there to rot while you pretended you could just move on.”

Ciaran’s head snapped up, his eyes wide with anguish, his breath catching as though my words had physically struck him. “I wasn’t trying to move on,” he rasped, his voice trembling. “I didn’t know how to—how to face what I’d done.”

“You didn’t even try,” I said coldly, the bitterness in my tone cutting like a blade. “You ran. Like a coward. Like all of you.”

His jaw tightened, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. He looked like he wanted to say something, to beg or explain or justify himself, but no words came. Just silence. Heavy and broken.

“You’re not free, Ciaran,” I said finally, my voice low and venomous. “Not from me. Not from this.”

He stared at me, his mouth opening as though to protest, but no sound escaped. His hands clenched at his sides, his entire body trembling as the weight of my words settled over him.

And I didn’t wait to see if he’d recover. I turned, fading into the flickering shadows, leaving him drowning in the aftermath of his own failure.

Sixteen

The bond tugged at me,sharper than usual, pulling me toward Lucian’s apartment. A wicked grin curled my lips as I gave in to it, the connection humming with a tantalizing cocktail of guilt and tension. Something had stirred the pot, and I wasn’t about to miss the fallout.

Lucian’s apartment was already thick with tension by the time I arrived, the bond thrumming faintly as I slipped inside. The room reeked of anger and grief, layered so perfectly I almost didn’t need to intervene. Almost.

Lucian paced in sharp, agitated steps, his movements as jagged as the words he threw like daggers. “We were supposed to look out for each other,” he snapped, his gaze cutting toward Aeron. “Where the hell were you?”

Kael leaned against the counter, his knuckles white where they gripped the edge. “He was calling out for help,” he said, his voice tight. “And you just brushed him off?”

Aeron, sitting stiffly in the corner, shot them both a glare. “You think I don’t feel guilty enough?” he hissed. “What about you? What did any of you do? Don’t put this all on me.”

Perfect. They were already cracking, and I hadn’t even done anything yet.

I drifted closer to Aeron first, the bond feeding me just enough energy to fuel my whispers. “You should’ve answered him,” I murmured, low and soft, the words curling into his thoughts like smoke. “You could’ve saved him. But you didn’t.”

Aeron flinched, his jaw tightening as he snapped, “He was spiraling for months! I couldn’t babysit him every second.”

Kael’s head shot up, his eyes narrowing. “That’s your excuse?” he spat. “You couldn’t be bothered to give a damn about your best friend?”

Lucian stopped mid-step, his gaze locking onto Aeron like a predator sizing up its prey. “You knew he was struggling,” he said, his voice dangerously low. “And you told him to get over it?”

“I told him not to talk about her,” Aeron shot back, his voice breaking. “Not in the middle of a fucking café, where everyone could hear.”

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