Page 151 of When Death Whispers

“I will follow hers,” Steo says. “No others.”

The silence returns—but it’s different now.

Not trust, not yet, but something close enough to build on.

Maybe this is what it means to be hers.

Maybe that’s enough.

Then—

She stirs.

A soft sound, almost a sigh—and it nearly undoes me.

I squeeze my eyes shut, breathing through the crush of relief and something rougher, deeper, that feels a hell of a lot like love.

Beside me, Rad shifts—the tension bleeding from his frame like a punctured wound. Even Steo, who hasn’t moved for what feels like hours, exhales slow and shallow, a sound barely louder than the hush of the burrow itself.

She’s waking up.

She’s still fighting.

And I'm not leaving her side ever again.

57

Voices drift through the fog.

Distant. Deep. Familiar.

Then—warmth.

Not heat. Not light. Just presence. Heavy and steady, like the air itself is holding its breath around me.

And then I do breathe.

Sharp. Shallow. My chest aches with it, but it’s real.

I stir. Something cool brushes my cheek. A shadow, maybe. Or a hand.

I blink.

Shapes blur and sharpen—three of them, crowding my vision. All different, all too close. A demon prince with fire in his eyes. A reaper wrapped in silence. A boy with bruised knuckles and soft worry etched into every line of his face.

Rad. Steo. Hudson.

All of them hovering like I might vanish if they look away. All of their presences humming in my chest like they’re part of me.

“…Hi,” I croak, my voice rough and small.

Hudson exhales a laugh that’s half-sob. “Jesus. Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

Rad just smirks, but his clawed hands tremble where they hover near mine.

Steo doesn’t speak. He only reaches out and touches my hair—so lightly I almost don’t feel it.

The room glows pink around us.

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