Chapter 16
Ash
Where was she?
I waited for her at dinner.
I waited for her in the common room.
I waited outside the girls’ wing until a guard threatened to tase me.
She didn’t come.
I was five seconds from tearing the doors off every room in this place when I finally saw her—slowly making her way down the hall toward Night Block.
Something was wrong.
She moved like every step hurt. Like her ribs were bruised. Like breathing cost her.
Cold rage crackled through me.
“Who hurt you?” I demanded.
Whoever it was—
I’d skin them.
I’d feed them their own teeth.
I’d decorate the fucking courtyard with their insides.
She jumped, startled, like she hadn’t even noticed me there.
Then—
She smiled.
It was soft and tired and meant to soothe me, which made me want to burn down the entire institution.
“I’m okay,” she said gently. “I’m just tired, Ash.”
“Was it Marr?” I hissed.
My fists clenched so hard I felt bone grind. Marr. The rat bastard with his needles and his smile and his fucking fascination with her. I imagined ripping his spine out through his chest. Maybe wearing it like a scarf.
“No! No one hurt me, I promise,” she insisted. “I’ve just had a long couple of days. I want to go to my room.”
“Can I come?”
I didn’t even pretend to play it cool.
I needed to see her. Needed to breathe the same air. Needed to make sure she wasn’t lying to make me calm down.
She hesitated—just a second—and I felt something in my chest fracture.
Then she nodded.
“Okay. Jess told me she’d be out, so it’ll just be us. Is that… okay?”
Okay?
It was the best fucking news I’d ever heard in my life.
My smile was probably deranged. I didn’t care.
“Just to watch a movie,” she added quickly, like she needed to set the terms. “Jess said I could use her DVDs.”
“Movie?” I echoed.
“I love movies.”
I said it too fast. Too eager.
But she didn’t seem to mind.
She just let out a small breath, like she was relieved someone wanted something so… normal from her.
She didn’t know that I would sit with her in silence.
Or watch ten thousand movies.
Or kill everyone in this place if she asked.
She didn’t know she’d already become oxygen.
And as she led me toward her door—walking slow, one hand on the wall like she needed the support—I knew two things with absolute certainty:
She wasn’t okay.
I wasn’t letting her out of my sight until she was.
As we reached her door, she stopped.
Her hand hovered over the handle, trembling just a little. She turned to me, chewing her lip like she was bracing for something painful.
“Ash,” she said softly.
“I like you. I do.”
My chest lit up like someone had set off fireworks in it.
“I like you too,” I blurted, probably grinning like an idiot.
For the first time all day, she gave me a real smile. Small, warm, careful—like she was offering me something fragile.
“I just…” She swallowed. “I don’t want to get your hopes up. I’m not good with touch, okay?”
She took a tiny, shaky breath, the kind someone tries to hide.
The kind that meant she fully expected me to pull away.
That was all?
“So no touching!” I said immediately, nodding like my head was on springs. “Promise!”
Her shoulders loosened in relief.
That killed me.
That she expected disappointment—expected to lose people over this.
She smiled again, and the whole hallway felt brighter.
I would’ve sworn the air got lighter.
Or maybe that was just me.
I’d do anything for her.
Anything at all.
She went to get changed in her room and I went through the selection.
I flipped through the stack until I found it—one of the greats.
When she stepped back out, she’d changed into soft grey pants and a loose white long-sleeved shirt that hung off her like a cloud. Her gloves were back on. Clean ones. She looked smaller somehow, softer. Tired.
She paused when she saw the DVD in my hand.
“Bring It On?” she said, eyebrows lifting.
I nodded enthusiastically. “I learned the routine. Want me to show you?”
“No! No, Ash. Please.” A laugh escaped her—light, real, tired. “Relax. Sit.”
She gestured to the couch.
I dropped onto it instantly, then grabbed a cushion and wedged it between us like a barrier—not because I wanted it, but because she needed it.
Her shoulders eased when she saw it.
Good.
I could do this.
I could do anything if it meant she felt safe.
So we settled in.
And we watched.
It didn’t take long for her breathing to slow, her head tipping slightly toward the cushion barrier between us. Within minutes, she was asleep.
For the first time in my life, I didn’t feel the need to move.
No jittering leg.
No tapping fingers.
No urge to bounce or pace or burn off the fire under my skin.
I stayed completely still—because she was here, and she trusted me enough to fall asleep beside me.
In the dim glow of the TV, she looked almost angelic.
Silver-white hair spilling around her like a halo.
Lashes resting against her cheeks.
Her glove-covered hands curled lightly in her lap.
I had never seen anything so beautiful.
A part of me… the reckless part, the hungry part… wanted to reach out. To touch a strand of her hair. To feel if her skin truly was as soft as silk looked.
But the bigger part—
the part that cared about her more than anything—
wanted her to trust me.
So I didn’t move.
I stayed perfectly still.
And I watched her.
Quiet. Calm. Content in a way I didn’t think I was capable of being.
Just… watching her breathe.