Page 61 of The Midnight Death Match

Harek’s brow creases. “No, you actually don’t. Pushing me away is a choice you’re making.”

“I’m the one tied to this curse. The one they want dead, the one who could destroy everything if I slip. You said it yourself—this curse feeds on blood. The more I fight it, the harder it pulls.” I step away slowly, adding space between us.

His voice drops. “And that makes it stop?”

“It makes it easier for you, Einar, and my siblings.” My throat tightens around the words. “If I’m not here, no one has to make the impossible choice.”

He shakes his head slowly. “You think disappearing will protect us? Dying will protect us?” His voice grows rougher. “You’re not protecting anyone, Eira. You’re punishing yourself.”

I break his gaze, the weight of his words cutting deep.

Harek steps closer again, softer now. “We’ve always faced danger together before, and we can do it again. Just because I’m not directly involved in the hunter curse doesn’t mean you have to lock me out. We’re a team. Or did you forget?”

I want to let him closer, to believe him. But fear snakes tighter around my throat, and it’s sharper than my longing. “I don’t want you to watch me become something you can’t save.”

His jaw tightens, and his voice lowers into something raw. “You’re not lost.”

I close my eyes for a beat, fighting the trembling pull in my chest. I can’t bear to look at him any longer. “I need to be alone.”

Harek stills, shoulders tight. He studies me for a long, painful moment. “I’m not giving up on you.”

While his words mean everything, I can’t keep putting him in danger. So I say nothing.

He waits, but I don’t move. Eventually, he steps back into the shadows, his footsteps fading behind him.

Leaving me alone again, just as I asked. An ache pulls at me, but it’s better this way. I can protect him if we’re apart, and it’ll hurt less when we inevitably lose each other one way or another. Sacrificing myself seems a strong option no matter which way I go—fighting this curse and trying to protect my siblings.

The words on my sword pulse subtly. Does being the Secret Keeper play a part in all of this?

Anything is possible, and nothing is. How can both situations be true at the same time?

The silence settles heavier after Harek leaves. I sit on a bench that saw better days decades ago, fold my arms across my knees, and stare into the dark. The ruined city feels colder now, but it’s actually the weight pressing inside me, as though the curse itself breathes quietly at the edge of my thoughts.

A faint shuffle echoes behind me.

Lys slips through the ruined archway like a shadow familiar with every curve of this broken place.

I don’t look at him. “You shouldn’t be here.”

He tilts his head. “And yet hereyouare.”

I exhale through tight lungs. “Don’t you ever get tired of watching me fall apart?”

“Correction. I’m watching you evolve.”

“What, no riddles?”

A hint of a grin tugs at his mouth. He’s actually quite handsome when he smiles. I’m not sure where that thought came from, and I push it away. “You make all of this sound so easy.”

“Not easy.” He steps closer but keeps enough distance not to press. “Necessary.”

I finally meet his gaze. His calm, unsettling eyes hold no pity—only a quiet certainty that both soothes and unsettles me. “The others mean well, but they cling to the rules they were born into. They believe sacrifice is the only language the curse will understand.”

“And you don’t?” My breath catches slightly on the edge of the question.

Lys steps a little closer. “I believe you could become something the curse can’t predict. That is why it fears you. That is whytheyfear you.”

I stare at him, my heart thundering.

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