Page 9 of Fallen Gods
I brace one arm across the window casing and continue to wait. There was no point pushing the old man for answers. He’d give them only when they served him. For now, I just needed one look at the woman responsible for ripping my family apart. One look to confirm I feel absolutely nothing for her except hatred.
Then, like I’d summoned her myself, a long black car glides to a stop. And Rey Stjerne steps out, rain catching in the dark shine of her hair.
I only get a brief look at her before she turns away from me—but it’s enough.
The last time I saw her, she had wild, dark curls, ripped jeans, and an oversize NYU sweatshirt with a mustard stain on the sleeve. Odd, the things that stick.
Now? Everything’s different. Sleek bun, hair yanked back so tight it looks painful. Wide sunglasses. A mouth set in a line that makes her look carved from ice. Long black coat, dark-wash wide-legged jeans, high-heeled boots, soft gray sweater. Every piece deliberate, calculated.
I let out a long breath, the tension in my jaw easing for the first time in more than a week. This version of her will be easy to hate.
I continue to watch as the trunk closes, Rey and her father hugging before he heads back into his car. Then she and her driver walk over to stand on the sidewalk. Too close.
I reach up and clear the fog from the glass again, imagine I can hear her voice in the air, drifting through my second-floor window. Even though we haven’t seen each other in years, I’d never forget a voice like Rey’s.
It’s a complete and total contradiction, soft and airy when it shouldn’t be and extremely sharp when it needs to be. The kind of voice that slices through you like a knife, cutting you to ribbons but making you thankful for the pain—until you realize it’s too late and you’re already bleeding out.
I shudder. I may not survive this semester.
I don’t even know why I keep watching them. I shouldn’t care, and I really don’t. I’m just curious.
From up here, she looks smaller than I remembered. Almost fragile.
She’s angled slightly away from her driver, like she’s alreadyhalfway gone. He says something, but she doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t smile, either. Just nods once and keeps her hands in her coat pockets.
Other students are starting to arrive—parents dragging suitcases, hugging too long, laughing and snapping family photos on their phones. But she doesn’t move like them. Doesn’t carry that awkward, wide-eyed energy everyone else has. She’s composed. Still. Like she’s going to a funeral instead of her first day of college.
The driver shifts closer. She doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t lean in, either.
Instead, she lifts her head slightly, scanning the buildings. Her gaze never reaches this window, but I take a step back anyway.
Not because I’m hiding.
Just habit.
Everything about her stance is the same as I remember—guarded, purposeful, almost cruel. She’s a monster dressed up like an angel.
I don’t look at Rey as she passes closer. My father always told me not to stare at storms—especially the ones that wear a human face.
I learned that too late.
The last time I ignored the warning signs, it cost me everything. My parents are a memory now—scattered in ash and silence.
And the man responsible for that silence raised her.
I exhale, long and slow, until my shoulders relax, then look down at my phone. It’s only day one, and she’s already affecting me this harshly. Maybe she’ll ignore me the way I plan on ignoring her.
Why the hell is she at Endir? Her of all people? The daughter of the antichrist?
I hate her father.
I hateher.
I despise everything their family stands for and everything they did to hurt mine. Haven’t they already done enough? Now they have to infiltrate the only peace I have left?
She turns, and the sunlight streaming through a cloud behind her casts her in an otherworldly glow. She glances up and, in an instant, she’s looking right at me. Right through me. But no, I already took a step back. She can’t actually see me.
I’m going to give her a wide berth and pray she does the same for me. I’ve worked hard for the peace this place gives me. I’m not about to surrender it now.
