I didn’t recognise the woman inside me. Something had switched permanently and any facet of the little girl—the twin who’d always believed in fantasies—had died upon that patch of earth.

I’d been destroyed, yet my eyes remained dry. Not one tear had been shed. Not one sob had come forth.

I’d become barren. No longer able to display emotion or find relief from the pounding terror of seeing proof of my ancestor’s demise.

The diamond collar around my neck disgusted me and the weight seemed to grow heavier with every breath, sucking me deeper into hell.

Struggling to remove my sweat-dried exercise gear, I barely managed to crawl into the shower. Gradually, I turned my blood from snow to spring—thawing out the phantoms that now lurked within.

I stayed beneath the hot spray for ages, curled upon the floor with my arms wrapped around my knees. Mud and soil from the graves siphoned down the drain, swirling around like dead souls.

So much had happened, so much that would’ve broken the old Nila.

But this was just another hurdle—another obstacle to clear in my quest for victory. My essence had been infused with the lingering spirits of my ancestors. They lived within me now, wanting the same thing I did.

The clock hanging above the fish tank in my sewing room announced the witching hour as I climbed exhausted into bed.

Three a.m.

The time when ghouls and demons were thought to roam the passageways of homes and terrorize helpless sleepers.

I’d always been superstitious about keeping my wardrobe doors shut against night monsters. Vaughn used to laugh at me, saying beasts and night creatures didn’t exist.

But now I knew the truth.

They did exist, but they didn’t come out when the witching hour opened a portal from their world into ours.

They weren’t called werewolves or vampires.

They were called Hawks.

And I lived with them.

The next morning, I woke to a text.

A single message from the crux of my annihilation.

Kite007: I feel what you feel. Whether it be a kiss or a kick or a killing blow. I wished I didn’t, but you’re mine, therefore, you are my affliction. So, I will feel what you feel, and I will live what you live. You won’t understand what I mean. Not yet. But it’s my best sacrifice. The only thing I can offer you.

I waited for my heart to spike.

I held my breath for a sparkle of desire.

Jethro had just shown me the truth. In his cryptic, almost poetic message, he’d torn aside the mysterious curtain of who Kite was—fully admitting something that only he would know. There was no way a message like that could come from Kes. I doubted the middle Hawk was deep enough to pen such a complex riddle.

If such a message had come yesterday, I would’ve tripped from lust into love. I wouldn’t have been able to stop my heart from unfurling completely and letting my enemy nest deep inside.

But not now.

Not now that I’d seen the heinous truth.

With steady hands and an even steadier heart, I sent a single message to my brother.

Needle&Thread: I’m living a nightmare, V. I…I can’t do this anymore. I miss you.

Once it had sent, I deleted Kite’s message and turned off my phone.

A NEW MORNING, yet I felt older than I’d ever been.

Every part of me ached.

I’d left Nila at the cemetery—I’d had no choice.

But when she didn’t return after dusk, I went back for her.

She’d sat beneath the crescent moon, arms wrapped tight around her ribcage as if to prevent whatever meagre body heat she had from escaping. Her white skin glowed in the darkness, etched in shadow, making her seem part wraith, part woman.

I’d waited in the blackness, obscured by trees. Waited for her to either fall asleep or fret herself into unconsciousness. I wanted to wrap her in warmth and take her back to her chambers where she could find some resemblance of living…with me.

I wanted to kiss her frigid lips and run my fingers down her icy arms. I wanted to be warm for her and forget all notions of being a glacier.

But powerful waves of hatred and disgust rolled from her delicate form, lapping through the trees and around my ankles. As much as I wanted to go to her, I couldn’t.

For the same reason I needed to see Jasmine so often.

For the same curse I’d lived with my whole life.

So, I’d waited.

I’d sacrificed myself by feeling her pain.

I’d shared the cold with her.

I’d hoped she sensed my presence and it offered a shred of comfort.

And when she’d finally retreated to the Hall, I’d followed discretely. Shadowing her every step, determined she wouldn’t see me.

It wasn’t until she’d stumbled from her bathroom in a cloud of steam and wearing a towel that I’d left the security hub and the constantly recording cameras and returned to my own quarters.

As I lay staring at my ceiling, thinking how disastrous my life had become ever since I texted her over two months ago, I felt another stirring inside my broken heart.

One that gave me a small blaze of hope that there might be some way to salvage this nightmare.

For the first time in my life, I wanted to talk to someone. Fully confess. And not just to my sister.

I wanted to unload and spill everything to my sworn enemy. To the woman I wanted but could never have.

If I stepped off that ledge and took a leap of faith, I had no doubt I would end up dead when I fell. But I’d left it too long to fix myself and no longer had control over my impulses.