Shattered Minds

Chapter 26

MAEVE

The office greets me with a silence that doesn’t belong. No hum of keyboards, no phones ringing off the hook.

It’s the kind of quiet that crawls under your skin and seeps into your very essence. Like, every pair of eyes has been waiting for me until the second I walked in.

Clutching the strap of my handbag, I pass by Lydia’s desk, pausing. She snaps her gaze down, drumming her fingers against her half-empty coffee cup like she’s waiting for something to explode.

I frown and keep walking.

What the hell is her problem?

A few coworkers glance up as I pass, their eyes sharp and too quick to look away.

The low hum of the fluorescent lights prickles at the base of my skull. A throb I can’t seem to shake. Something’s off, but I can’t put my finger on it.

Do they know something I don’t?

I make my way to my desk and drop my bag down. The sound cracks through the silence, gaining the attention of those closest to me.

Their focus snaps back to their own work just as quickly, and I drop onto my chair, tucking a stray hair behind my ear. I boot up my computer and wait, drumming my fingers on the desk as I dart my gaze around the office.

Heads are down, but no-one is really working, their hushed conversations travelling across the room as though they were screamed.

I shake my head and return my focus to my computer screen. It glows with the latest draft I’ve been working on. The fake story Holloway wants purely in case he asks me for it. But I can’t focus on that right now.

Normal isn’t in my vocabulary anymore. And I don’t think I can fake it any longer.

My mind wanders to Asher. To what we did three nights ago.

The way he made me forget everything. I could become addicted to it. I needed him to punish me, make me hurt in all the right places just so I could erase the memories of what we did together.

Even as I stabbed Dr. Sterling, the darkness crept in, curling inside me like a second skin. And for a moment, I wanted it to consume me. To win.

Is that how Asher feels when he takes a life? Powerful? Like nothing could stop him.

Then there’s Caleb. His silence since he left my house the other morning tells me everything. He’s already decided I’m no longer worth saving.

Doesn’t mean I’m giving up.

They’re two sides of the same coin, both equally dangerous. Both equally necessary. And I’m starting to think I can’t survive without either of them.

There’s no point telling him about the folder from Sterling’s house. It was another dead end. Someone doesn’t want me to find Bethany, and they’re doing a fantastic job of making sure that never happens.

More quiet, hushed voices carry over to me from across the room. Only this time, my name lingers in the conversations like static.

The weight of unspoken words presses down on my shoulders. It’s unbearable. I need to know what’s going on.

I rise from my chair, clenching and unclenching my fists as I make my way toward Lydia’s desk.

She doesn’t look up. Doesn’t even blink.

Is she really going to pretend I’m not standing right in front of her?

I clear my throat pointedly. Lydia sighs, dragging her gaze up to meet mine as though it physically pains her.

“What’s going on?” I say, scanning her face.

Her usual smile is replaced with a deep frown, her expression pinched, too careful. Too smooth. What’s she hiding?

“You haven’t heard?” she says, her focus darting toward the others in the office.

“Heard what?” I cross my arms over my chest, an amour to blunt the blow of what Lydia is about to say.

It’s been days since I last spoke with her. Or has it been weeks? Time is a blur, each day fusing with the last.

Maybe it’s about Dr. Sterling. But that shouldn’t be a shock to anyone. Not after what’s been dredged up. He’s not the first, and he won’t be the last. Not if Asher has his way.

Lydia leans forward and cups a hand around her mouth as though she’s about to spill some dirty little secret. I just hope it’s not mine.

Her eyes flick past me, scanning for anyone who might be listening.“Terry,” she whispers. “They found him this morning. Hung himself. Ceiling fan.”

The words hit me like a slap to the face. Seconds pass, slowly, agonisingly, but the sting doesn’t fade. Instead, it festers, lodges in my chest and grows teeth.

Terry.

Dead.

“What?” The word scrapes against my throat, barely audible above the pounding in my head.

Lydia nods, pressing her lips into a thin line. “They’re saying it was suicide. Left a note and everything.”

A note.

Of course there was a note. There always is when someone wants you to believe it was their choice.

But I know better. Is that why it feels like every set of eyes is on me at this very moment? They’re waiting for me to choke, to admit that the reason Terry is dead is because I’m pretty sure my psychopathic—boyfriend? Fuck buddy?—murdered him for touching me.

I swallow over the lump lodged in my throat.

Another death on my conscience. All because I opened my mouth.

He wants to hurt me . That’s what I said.

I might as well have signed Terry’s death certificate the second I let Asher see those bruises. But I wasn’t myself. I’m not even sure who myself is anymore. It’s definitely not Maeve Lockhart from before the murders. She died the moment she stabbed someone with a letter opener.

Still, I can’t bring myself to feel guilty. Not in the way I should. Terry was an arsehole.

“Right,” I manage to say, my voice flat. “That’s . . . awful.”

Lydia studies me, her signature red lips pursed, her eyes narrowing slightly. “You two had words, didn’t you?” Her gaze darts over my face, assessing, burrowing.

I rear back, my eyebrows shooting up my forehead. How does she know? Is she spying on me?

I should’ve known she was up to something the night she came to my house. Maybe her and Terry had a better friendship that I originally thought. She doesn’t seem too torn up about his death, though.

If anything, there’s a smugness to her features that unsettles me. Like her shit don’t stink.

My hand drifts toward my sleeve, fingers grazing the fabric over the bruises Asher turned into something far worse. “What are you getting at, Lydia?”

She huffs out a laugh, dismissive but too tight around the edges. “Oh, don’t mind me,” she says, waving a manicured hand. “Just trying to keep up. You’ve been such a ghost lately. How’s that Pinnacle story treating you?”

The subtle hint of a smirk twitches the corners of her lips, but I catch it. Is that why she has an attitude? Because she’s pining over the Pinnacle story? Wow. I thought we had an understanding. Seems I was wrong.

She’s not checking on me. She’s testing me. Waiting for me to drop the ball. Joke’s on her—I dropped that ball weeks ago. How I’m still functioning is beyond me.

“I’m fine, Lydia,” I mutter, storming back to my desk.

I drop into my chair and click aimlessly through emails, pretending to work, even as my hands shake.

This isn’t what I wanted. Yet, I’m buried so deep beneath the growing pile of dead bodies, I may never find the strength to dig my way out from the decomposing rot that is my life.

And now I can add Terry’s body to the top of the pile.

Why make it look like a suicide? That’s not Asher’s style. His calling card usually comes in the form of torn flesh and blood-soaked floors.

This was purely for me. His messed-up way of showing me he can control any part of my life.

And do I even care?

Hours pass, and the whispers about Terry fade into the normal background noise of a busy office. Still, the pressure on my chest doesn’t lift.

I should have stayed home. Barricaded myself in my room. Pretended the outside world didn’t exist. But hiding won’t wash the blood off my hands. Or the creeping suspicion that everyone here knows more than they’re letting on.

Though, that could just be my growing paranoia.

Either way, I need something to keep me going. Coffee will suffice until I can get my hands on something stronger.

I push my chair back, snatching up my mug from my desk. Lydia has disappeared, but at least I’m not being looked at like some science experiment now. Head down, I rub at my tired eyes and make my way towards the kitchen.

Hushed voices filter through the partially open doorway to Holloway’s office.

Again. My name falls from someone’s lips.

I slow my steps, my grip tightening around my mug as my pulse skyrockets. Maybe it’s not paranoia after all.

“She’s been slipping for weeks now,” Lydia says, her voice low but insistent. “She barely even speaks to anyone anymore, let alone produces anything usable.” Her tone drips with faux concern. “What has she produced so far? Nothing. Not even anything on those stupid Thornhaven murders.”

Lydia has turned on me. Can’t say I’m surprised, or that she’s wrong. I haven’t produced anything usable. Somewhere along the way, I fell into a grave deeper than deep, and I’m still trying to shovel my way out.

I step closer, my pulse continuing to pound in my ears, drowning everything else out but the sting of my name on her lips.

“. . . wasn’t always like this,” Holloway murmurs. “She used to be one of our best.”

“Exactly. Used to be,” Lydia says, emphasising the words. “But let’s be honest. Can we really count on her anymore?”

I clench my jaw.

Lydia. Always smiling. Always watching. And now . . . now she’s sharpening the knife behind my back. Lucky I caught her before she stabbed me with it. At least now I have a chance at defending myself.

“Well . . .” Holloway sighs. I can just picture the look on his face. “We can’t afford to carry dead weight, Lydia. Especially not with the Pinnacle account. We need people who can deliver, no matter what.”

Is he fucking serious?

That’s it. I’m not going to stand here and listen to another word.

I shove against the door, my entire body vibrating. It swings open, slamming against the wall on the other side, shaking the glass in the centre.

Lydia’s hand flies to her chest, and she has the nerve to look shocked, as though she didn’t just betray me. Holloway blows out a breath, his shoulders slumping.

“If I’m such a liability . . .” My voice slices through the room, “maybe you could’ve told me to my face instead of whispering behind my back like a slumber party schoolgirl.”

Lydia holds out her hands in her failed attempt to placate me. “Maeve, I?—”

“You what?” My gaze snaps to her throat. It wouldn’t take much, just a little squeeze, a little pressure. The thought slithers in before I can stop it. I shove it away and take a step closer. “You thought backstabbing your way into my job was the smart move? Or do you just like the sound of your own voice when you’re tearing someone else down?”

I take another step, the floor creaking under my weight. My pulse thunders in my ears, my fingers curling around the handle of my mug.

“Maeve,” Holloway says, holding up a hand. “Calm down.”

“Calm down?” I throw my head back, laughing. There’s no humour in it. “I’ve given everything to this job, and you’re seriously considering throwing me under the bus because Lydia can’t handle a little competition?”

Lydia’s face flushes, and she sinks into the armchair opposite Holloway’s desk as if attempting to make herself smaller. “This isn’t personal, Maeve. You’ve been?—”

“Unreliable? Is that the word you’re looking for?” My teeth clamp down, my breathing shallow and uneven.

Lydia shakes her head, her mouth twisting into something cruel. “You think you’re the only one who wants to succeed? I want to make a name for myself, and well . . . you are dropping the ball. I don’t even know who you are anymore. You’ve changed, Maeve.”

Fists clenched, I move towards her. If she thinks?—

“That’s enough, Maeve.” Holloway exhales sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose like I’m giving him a headache. “You’re a valued member of this team, but Lydia’s not wrong. You’ve been slipping. Everyone’s noticed.”

My phone buzzes in my pocket, grounding me physically in the moment. I ignore it, my focus remaining on the two people before me.

“Fine,” I say through gritted teeth. “You know what? I fucking quit.” With that, I spin on my heel and storm out of the room.

Holloway calls after me, but I keep moving, my legs unsteady. I’m not spending another minute here. Everything’s changed.

Lydia is right about one thing; I’m not the same person I was seven months ago when all I wanted were the answers to Bethany’s disappearance.

What I’m searching for now is far beyond any of this mediocre office-politic bullshit.

My phone continues to vibrate against my leg.

Damn it. What now?

I snatch the device from my pocket, my hand tightening around it. Caleb’s name burns across the screen. I stare at it, frozen, my thumb hovering over the answer button as the memory of Asher’s touch lingers on my skin.

I close my eyes and breathe deeply through my nose. Whatever he wants, it’ll have to wait. I’m in meltdown mode right now, and I’ll only ruin my chance of keeping him in my life if I lash out. He doesn’t deserve that.

I don’t deserve him.

My desk appears in front of me, and I shove my belongings into my handbag, my hands shaking so violently, my fingers struggle to grasp the smaller items.

For all the years I’ve spent here, I never once made this place my own. No photos of loved ones. No favourite quotes taped to the desk. The moment I step into the elevator, it’s as though I never existed here at all. No-one even gives me a second glance.

Except Lydia. Her smug smile is the last thing I see before the elevator doors close. She’s now just another wound that won’t stop bleeding.

Moments later, the doors slide open again, a heavy thud breaking through my dazed state. I can’t believe I just quit my job. What the hell do I do now?

Exhaling, I grip the strap of my handbag and dart into the undercover carpark.

My phone vibrates a second time. Caleb.

Shit. I can’t ignore him forever. At some stage, I’m going to have to face the fact I betrayed him, and it’s possible this might be the last phone call I ever have with him.

I tap the answer button and press the phone to my ear. “Hey,” I say, wincing at the forced casualness in my tone. “Is everything okay?”

“Maeve.” Caleb’s voice is quieter than I expected, tinged with something I can’t place. Hesitation, maybe. Or regret.

This is it. He’s about to tell me he never wants to see me again. And I don’t think I have the strength in me to beg him to reconsider. Everything inside me is slowly dying, the thorns of Thornhaven digging deeper into my flesh, leaving open wounds.

He sighs, continuing. “Look, I know we’re not exactly on the best terms right now, but I need you to come to the clinic.”

The hollowness in my chest eases slightly, replaced with a calmness only Caleb can make me feel. “Why?”

“Please,” he says, his tone almost desperate. “Just trust me. I wouldn’t call if it wasn’t important.”

Something sharp twists low in my stomach. It’s that same familiar pull I only ever feel around him. And Asher.

My words lodge in my throat. Part of me wants nothing more than to see Caleb, to lose myself in his infectious enthusiasm and forget about my indiscretion with Asher. But another part of me recoils at the thought of facing him again, certain I’ll ruin things even further.

I close my eyes, picturing Caleb’s soft expression, those warm hazel eyes that always seem to see right through me. “Okay,” I say with a sigh. “I’ll be there soon.”

I don’t know what he wants, but it’s got to be better than this parade of fake smiles and backstabbing coworkers.

Whatever’s waiting for me at the clinic, it won’t fix me. It might even shatter me further until there’s no putting the pieces back together again.

But at least with Caleb, I can pretend I’m whole.

* * *

The drive to the clinic feels both endless and far too short. Every corner, every green light drags me closer to the inevitable.

I pull into the parking lot, sliding in beside the Charger near the entrance. My fingers tighten around the steering wheel as I stare at the Thornhaven Veterinary Clinic sign glowing faintly above the door.

Can I face what’s on the other side? Guess I’m about to find out.

I kill the engine and step out into the unseasonably warm afternoon air. When the weather turned like this back at the orphanage, Bethany would drag me to a window, and we’d climb out and sit on the roof to watch the sun go down. It was during those moments, I could forget I was stuck in a never-ending cycle of abuse.

That’s not the case right now.

Even the cool edge of the breeze does nothing to stifle the heat crawling up my spine.

My feet carry me to the front entrance, my mind in complete chaos. Is this what it feels like to face your worst fear?

A sinking in your stomach, nausea swirling like you might just vomit at any second. The fear of losing Caleb, of losing his warmth scares me more than death ever could.

I push against the glass door. It resists me, heavier than it should be, as though it knows exactly what I’m about to face and it’s giving me a few more seconds of oxygen.

Though it’s nothing compared to the pressure crushing my chest.

I suck in a deep breath and step into the clinical space, the scent of antiseptic immediately stinging my nostrils. And there he is, Caleb, in his scrubs, a stethoscope draped around his neck.

My throat tightens, my emotions getting the better of me. I want to run to him, wrap myself in his arms and forget about the past hour.

Or, my entire life.

It’s only been a couple of days since he walked out my front door, but I can’t fight the way my heart beats faster, just for him. Especially when he smiles like nothing has shattered between us.

Why isn’t he yelling? Telling me he never wants to see me again? I don’t deserve that smile.

Or him.

“You made it,” he says, ushering me closer, his grin growing wider. “Come on, she’s back here.”

She?

He grabs my hand, linking his fingers with mine, and leads me down the hallway to the back of the clinic. I squeeze his hand, guilt gnawing at my insides like something feral.

These same hands had gripped my hips like a vice, though it wasn’t Caleb holding me then.

God, I’ve tangled myself in something I don’t know how to escape.

Caleb pushes open a door marked Exam Room 3 , and a soft whimper echoes around the silent room.

“Oh, my god.” My hand flies to my mouth and I step closer. “What’s her name?”

On a padded section of floor draped with towels, lies a golden retriever, her swollen belly heaving with each laboured breath.

“This is Daisy,” Caleb says, his voice gentle. “We named her after she was brought in as a stray last week, already in the late stages of pregnancy. We’ve been monitoring her closely, and it looks like tonight’s the night.”

His enthusiasm is palpable, and he almost looks like a kid in a candy store. Free of anything that could taint this moment.

So why am I here?

The frightened dog’s eyes lock onto mine, her sides swelling and contracting in rapid bursts. My heart cracks, melting at the edges.

“Hey, sweet girl,” I murmur, reaching out and stroking her silky ears.

Daisy’s tail thumps weakly against the floor, the slight gesture of trust bringing tears to my eyes.

Caleb is busy pulling on latex gloves and arranging instruments on a nearby tray, his eyebrows pulled in, concentration set on his features.

He’s nothing like Asher. Everything about him radiates warmth, generosity, the kind of goodness I forgot existed. After everything, his heart remains intact, still beating even when there’s nothing surrounding him but suffocating darkness.

His light draws me in, whether I want it to or not.

Right now, he’s in his element. And I want to memorise every glance, every brush of skin. All of it.

“What can I do to help?” I say, forcing the chaos in my head to quiet, just for now.

Caleb glances up, the hint of a smirk on his lips. “Just keep her calm. Talk to her, pet her. It’ll make a world of difference.”

I nod, turning my attention back to Daisy. “You’ve got this, girl,” I say, sinking my fingers into her soft fur.

She’s so brave, trusting strangers to keep not only her safe, but her babies too. What does that feel like? That level of trust? Is it instinct, or does she just know Caleb isn’t going to hurt her?

Much like how I know Asher won’t hurt me.

Her breathing grows more laboured, and her muscles tense beneath my touch. Caleb moves in, his hands gentle but sure as he examines her.

“She’s in active labour now,” he says softly, tilting his head as he studies her. “It won’t be long.”

I nod, my stomach tightening.

Of all the chaos and bloodshed these past few weeks, this is the moment that splits me open. Murder has stained my insides. But this, this moment with Caleb, makes me believe I don’t have to choose a side. I can live somewhere in the messy middle, like him.

With him.

Daisy whimpers, dragging me back to the present. I lean closer, whispering soft encouragement while Caleb works beside me.

The room hums with the raw, primal energy of new life. Daisy’s pain and fear pulses beneath my hand, but there’s something fiercer. Determination. She’s a fighter.

“Here we go.” Caleb rubs his hands together, his voice steady and reassuring. “The first one’s coming.”

I don’t breathe. My hand never leaves Daisy’s fur as she strains and pushes.

A low, guttural sound rumbles from deep within her and bounces off the walls. With one last heavy push, a tiny, wet bundle slides into Caleb’s waiting hands, slick with blood and mucus.

“It’s a girl.” Caleb quickly clears the puppy’s airways and rubs it vigorously with a towel.

The little fur ball lets out a high-pitched squeak, and tears sting my eyes at the sound. For the first time in a long time, a small sliver of light pierces its way into my heart.

Caleb places the puppy near Daisy’s head, and she immediately begins to clean her newborn, her tongue gentle but thorough. The tiny creature, no bigger than my hand, wriggles and mewls, instinctively seeking its mother’s warmth.

“One down,” Caleb says, his eyes shining under the bright lights. “A few more to go.”

As if on cue, Daisy tenses again, her muscles rippling beneath her golden coat. I stroke her head as she bears down once more. The second puppy arrives. Another girl, her fur a shade darker than her sister’s.

“You’re doing great, Daisy,” I whisper, a tear slipping down my cheek.

“So are you,” Caleb says, pressing his lips to my temple. “Thank you for being here. I’ve missed you.”

The earthy scent of him mingles with the metallic tang of blood, grounding me in the moment. Daisy whimpers again, breaking mine and Caleb’s small moment, her laboured breathing creating a symphony of new life.

Caleb works tirelessly, his hands moving with practiced precision as he tends to each newborn. He gently clears their airways, rubbing their tiny bodies to stimulate breathing and circulation. The tenderness in his touch doesn’t surprise me.

He has that effect on me, too. I know the tenderness of those hands. Of what they can do. Of how they make me feel.

Daisy groans low in her throat with each strain, her body curling around the next tiny bundle slipping free. Caleb expertly guides the pup, ensuring a safe delivery.

That’s five now, this one a boy with a white patch on his chest. He’s larger than his four sisters.

Daisy’s fighting for them, even when she’s exhausted, torn apart. Maybe that’s what survival really looks like. Not the blood or the rage, but this. This quiet, brutal kind of love.

“That’s it, girl,” Caleb says, his voice a calming presence in the room. “You’re almost there.”

As he tends to the newest arrival, I shift my focus back to Daisy. Her eyes are wide, filled with a mixture of exhaustion and determination as her body tenses again. The ripple of another contraction moves across her swollen belly. Caleb notices too, his hands poised and ready.

“Maeve, grab that towel.” He nods towards a stack on the nearby shelf.

I reach for the towel, my fingers trembling with the anticipation of what comes next. The sixth puppy emerges, smaller than the others, its fur a rich chocolate brown.

The tiny creature doesn’t move.

Caleb works quickly, rubbing the puppy vigorously with the towel. The seconds tick by.

Come on little one. Breathe. Just breathe.

Caleb cradles the tiny life in his hands, rubbing and rubbing. Sweat beads on his forehead. “Come on, baby,” he says, a frown marring his face. “Damn it, breathe.”

He’s so fucking beautiful. Even with the tension rolling off him, he doesn’t give up. Just like he hasn’t given up on me. He knows the truth about Asher, about the blood on my hands. And yet, he still smiles at me like I’m the only person he would ever want to experience this moment with.

Suddenly, a high-pitched squeal pierces the air, and Caleb sinks onto the tiles beside me, exhaling slowly. The puppy wriggles in his hands, its tiny pink mouth opening and closing as it cries out.

I let out a shaky laugh, my chest loosening.

“That’s it, little one,” Caleb says, his eyes crinkling with a smile.

He gently places the puppy near Daisy’s belly, where it instinctively begins to root for milk.

Daisy twists her head around, her nose twitching as she sniffs her newest offspring. Her tongue darts out, licking the puppy clean with long, gentle strokes.

Warmth fills me, infiltrating every cell in my body. It’s the kind of warmth that’s not hollow, but just there, unassuming.

The tiny puppy latches on, its whole body quivering with the effort of its first meal. The other five puppies, already nestled against their mother’s warm belly, squirm and whine softly. Their little paws knead at Daisy’s fur, their eyes still tightly shut against the bright world around them.

Caleb slides his hand into mine, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You did so well.”

I lean into him, resting my head on his shoulder, and sucking in the strength from his steady presence.

“Do you think there are more coming?” I say quietly, not wanting to disturb the peaceful scene before us.

Caleb shakes his head, his eyes never leaving the puppies. “I don’t think so. Six is a good, healthy litter for a first-time mum.”

As if to confirm his words, Daisy lets out a contented sigh and settles more comfortably into her bed. The puppies, now all latched and nursing, make tiny grunting noises of satisfaction.

A smile creeps onto my lips, and I swipe at my tears. Even at just a few minutes old, hints of Daisy in their wrinkled faces and stubby tails are evident. The shape of their noses, the twitch of their tails. The runt of the litter, has a white patch on its chest that reminds me of a lopsided heart.

“Look at that one,” I say, gently touching its soft fur. “It’s like he’s wearing a little heart.”

Caleb leans in, his breath warm on my cheek. “She,” he says, chuckling. “That one’s a girl.”

“Shut up, smart arse.” I give him a playful shove and turn my attention back to the tiny creature.

Her siblings, shades of gold and rust, squirm for a better position against Daisy’s belly.

“She’s a fighter,” Caleb says, rubbing the small of my back.

His presence beside me feels like a lifeline, an anchoring. A new beginning.

Just the touch of his hand on my back radiates a comforting heat, chasing away the chill that has settled in my bones. I lean into him, craving his light to drive out the lingering shadows, even if just for a little while.

Caleb shifts beside me. “We should probably clean up a bit.” He gestures to the mess of towels and blankets strewn about the tiled floor.

But I don’t want to move just yet. The little runt continues to squirm, drawing my gaze back to her tiny form. I can’t help but see a reflection of myself in her determined spirit, fighting against the odds.

I face Caleb, biting down on my bottom lip. Should I tell him about Terry? About quitting my job? No, it would ruin this moment.

Instead, I reach out. My hand hovers, pausing just above the warmth radiating off his skin. He stares down at me, his breathing speeding up. I trace the line of his jaw, the dark stubble rough against my fingertips.

Caleb leans into my touch. The tenderness in his expression is almost unbearable, a stark contrast to the cold efficiency I witnessed in Asher.

“You were amazing,” I say, searching his face for any sign of the hurt I caused him. “I don’t know how you do it, with everything that’s happened.”

Caleb’s eyes soften, and he leans in slowly, giving me time to pull away.

But I don’t. I can’t. The magnetic pull between us is too strong to resist.

His lips brush against mine. It’s nothing like Asher’s bruising, demanding kiss. Where Asher had been all fire and fury, Caleb is the calm before the storm, his touch healing the invisible wounds left by his alter ego.

I melt into the kiss, my fingers sliding into his hair, anchoring myself to him. Caleb wraps his arms around me, pulling me closer, but there’s no urgency in his embrace. It’s as if we have all the time in the world, and he intends to savour every moment.

“Maeve,” he says against my lips, his deep voice like a tether pulling me back from the edge. “Stay with me tonight. No chaos. Just us.”

Before I can second-guess myself, I nod. His warmth is too much to resist.

He finally pulls away, leaving me breathless, and rests his forehead against mine, his warm breath fanning across my face. He cradles my cheeks, gently stroking my skin like I’m something precious, fragile.

Caleb is the only light I have left. For tonight, I’ll let him hold me.

Before the shadows find me again.