I sat next to her, close enough to hear the tremble in her breath.
Slowly, I laid my hand on her shoulder.
That's when it hit me. Completely.
I felt the weight of her heart—that cold emotion that sat on her like a crown of sadness, the fear that crept into every corner of her soul. I felt all of it.
She lost her balance and fell into me, clutching my shirt with hands so weak, so fragile, it was like she thought I was the last thing tethering her to this world.
Then the tears crashed down her face.
They didn't fall.
They came to announce her collapse.
I ran my fingers through her hair, gently, like the world hadn't already torn her to pieces.
She didn't speak. She didn't move.
She just... crashed.
And fell asleep on my shoulder.
Then it hit me again.
Vic.
I'd completely forgotten she was still waiting.
I looked up toward the tree where I last saw her hanging, probably ready to mock me or light another cigarette with dramatic flair.
But she was gone.
My stomach dropped.
Then I saw it.
A snapped branch.
A faint blood trail.
And Vic, collapsed on the forest floor, one arm twisted awkwardly, her head resting against a stone like some kind of Anarchist Snow White—except this one probably cursed in her sleep.
Apparently, she tried to break free.
And in true Vic fashion, she faceplanted into a rock, cracked it, and then promptly passed out.
I sighed.
Of course, this would happen.
Annabel shifted in her sleep beside me, completely unaware.
I gently laid her down against the mossy base of the tree, then walked toward Vic.
"You're so dramatic," I muttered.
She groaned in response.
At least she was alive.
I took a picture of the creature with my digital camera—the deep and unnatural scars carved into its body, like something wicked, for evidence.
Then I set the corpse on fire.
It went up instantly, like it had been soaked in gasoline. The flames devoured it, casting sharp shadows across the forest floor.
I didn't stick around to watch it burn.
I slung Vic over my back—deadweight, bloodied, and still muttering in her sleep like some punk rock gremlin.
Then I lifted Annabel into my arms, careful, cradling her like a princess pulled from a nightmare.
One was a storm.
The other, a dream I didn't deserve.
And just like that, I carried them both home.
By the time I got home, it was late.
Selene was already there, of course—showering.
I kicked the door open with my foot, walked in like a ghost dragging the night behind me, and dumped Vic onto the couch with a satisfying thud.
She groaned but didn't wake.
"You're welcome," I muttered.
Then I turned to Annabel.
Carefully—so carefully—I carried her up the stairs and into the guest bedroom.
I laid her down like she was made of glass. Like one wrong movement would shatter her or wake me from whatever this was.
I turned on the night lamp.
For a moment, I just stood there in the doorway, watching her sleep.
Her breath was slow and steady. Too steady. Like nothing had happened, like she hadn't looked me in the eyes, hadn't seen what I really was—and still let herself fall asleep in my arms.
That kind of trust was dangerous.
I stepped closer.
The moonlight from the window lit her face in soft blues and silver. Her lips were slightly parted. A single, strong, rhythmic heartbeat echoed in my ears.
I could smell her faint traces of perfume, wilderness, and blood. The scent clung to her skin like a memory, pulling at something deep and primal inside me.
I watched her longer than I should have.
Not because I was worried.
But because I wanted to memorize the sound of her breathing.
The way her pulse fluttered in her neck.
The way her fingers twitched gently when she dreamed.
There was a darkness in me that wanted to touch her face. Just to feel the heat. Just to be close.
I didn't move.
But the darkness did.
It slithered up my spine and whispered what it always whispered:
Take her.
She's already yours.
I shook it off.
Barely.
But I stood there a little longer than I should have.
Because at that moment, the thing that scared me the most wasn't losing control.
It was how much I didn't want to.
And for once, the house didn't feel so empty.
I heard Vic groaning in pain downstairs.
The sound snapped me out of whatever sick trance I was under.
Time to check on the punk princess.
When I got to the living room, Selene was already there.
She was roughly putting Vic back together, snapping bones into place like it was second nature, but still keeping it clinical and careful.
That's the thing about Selene. She might work at Oakshade Hospital, but she doesn't turn it off when she's home.
Her bedside manner is all cold precision—mercy, but with a scalpel's edge.
Vic was swearing under her breath, her voice hoarse, like even pain couldn't stop her from being dramatic.
I took one step closer.
And in the blink of an eye, Selene appeared in front of me like a pissed-off ghost in a cardigan.
She grabbed me by the ear.
Hard—so hard I felt the skin tear.
"Sofa. Now."
No vampire speed could save me.
She yanked me across the room like I weighed nothing and threw me onto the couch.
Vic and I locked eyes from opposite ends of the cushions—both of us bracing.
We didn't say a word.
We just sat there like two guilty kids waiting for a stake to the heart.
"Vinnie," Selene said, voice calm—but in that deadly kind of calm.
"Care to explain why a human girl is sleeping in the guest bedroom, and why your sister looks like a truck slammed her into a tree?"
I gulped.
Vic, still lying half-conscious on the couch, somehow raised a hand in front of me like she was shielding me from execution.
"Edward Cullen from Twilight just tried to kill us," she muttered, deadpan.
I choked on a laugh. Couldn't help it.
Selene did not laugh.
She stepped forward, grabbed Vic's wrist, and with the cold precision of a doctor, snapped it.
"Very funny."
That was all she said.
Vic winced, her smirk flickering.
She sat up straighter. Eyes sharpened. No more jokes.
"… I'll shut up now."
I stepped in quickly. "Selene, I'll explain."
She didn't look at me. Just folded her arms and waited.
So I told her everything—the creature, the attack, the girl.
Then I handed her my camera.
She looked through the photos in silence.
And for the first time since I got home, the room felt cold.