Page 18 of Second Chance with the Half-Elf

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We descend in tense silence, footfalls swallowed by the gathering wind.

Outside, the sky churns—thick with bruised clouds.

Without a word, I shrug off my coat and drape it over her shoulders.

She stiffens, then sighs. “Thanks.”

We walk the path back toward town side by side, not touching, not speaking.

But every step burns with what almost happened.

Or stillcould.

When we reach her street, I pause.

“You’ll be safe here,” I say quietly.

She meets my gaze, stormlight flickering in her eyes.

“I can take care of myself,” she says. But she doesn’t move, like she expects me to lead her anyway.

I nod once. “I know.”

Then I turn and walk away—before I do something neither of us is ready for.

Not yet.

But the tide is rising fast.

And some storms can’t be outrun.

CHAPTER 7

EVIE

The sky’s been itching to break all day.

I can feel it in the walls—plaster hairline-cracked and humming with the weight of pressure. The kind of storm that doesn’t just wash things clean. The kind that digs in, claws at the edges of things you thought were long buried.

Perfect timing.

I’m pacing the living room like a caged thing, wine glass untouched on the table, when the lights flicker once... twice... then hold steady.

For now.

I eye the attic stairs. One box left.Personal—Private.

Of course.

Because if this house has taught me anything in the last few days, it’s that no ghost goes quietly.

I drag the box down, breath shallow, heart already tight. Dust billows out with a scent that hits sharp—salt and old roses and the faintest trace of sandalwood. My mother’s scent, long faded.

I sit cross-legged on the worn rug, fingers numb as I untie the brittle ribbon.

Photos. Jewelry. A silk scarf I remember tangling in my hair at six.

And some letters.

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