Chapter 27
MAEVE
The lingering warmth of Caleb’s body clings to me, woven into the fabric of my skin, a quiet reminder of the night we carved out of the chaos. After everything, somehow, we found our way back to each other.
I open my eyes, embracing the darkness. Once upon a time, I would’ve cowered, checked every shadowed corner for the monster waiting to devour me. But I’ve met him now. Opened the door to him. Tasted him.
And he doesn’t scare me anymore.
The space beside me is empty, the sheets already cold. A slow, creeping ache unfurls in my chest, but it isn’t just absence that tightens my throat.
He’s always here. Even when he’s not. A shadow buried beneath my skin, waiting to remind me how little of myself I get to keep.
Has Asher stolen Caleb away from me again?
The thought is quickly drowned out by the faint sound of music—low, haunting, and unmistakably deliberate.
Since when does Caleb own a piano? He’s full of surprises.
I slip from the bed, wrapping the sheet around me, and follow the melody as it tugs at the invisible thread wound tight in my chest. My bare feet are silent on the hardwood floor, each step carrying me closer as the music swells, thickening in the air like smoke.
My heart thumps against my ribcage.
Which version of the man I’m falling in love with will I find when I round this corner?
Caleb or Asher?
There’s nothing typical about our kind of love. It’s an obsession, really, a bond that no-one else will ever understand. It doesn’t even have to make sense.
It just is.
And does it even matter anymore? Why keep trying to fight the inevitable?
Each of them satisfies something in me I shouldn’t crave. Caleb, with his tenderness, the way he still believes in love, even when he’s seen the worst of humanity. And Asher, with his calculating coldness, and the part of him that isn’t afraid to burn the world down just to keep me close.
I keep moving until I find the source of the sound—a room right at the end of the hall, hidden away. My footsteps falter.
Asher.
The moonlight spilling in through the windows casts an ethereal glow across his face, softening the sharp edges I’ve come to associate with his cruelty. His fingers dance over the keys with a grace I didn’t know he possessed.
When he’s like this, it’s easy to forget who he is. What he’s done.
What I’ve done.
The music swells, filling the room with a sorrow so heavy it presses against my chest, stealing the air from my lungs. I lean against the doorframe, my legs suddenly weak.
Asher’s eyes are closed, his expression carved from something raw. Concentration, pain, and a look dangerously close to vulnerability. This version of him is nothing like the monster who has terrorised my nightmares.
He looks human.
How can someone who claims to feel nothing create something so devastatingly beautiful? Music like this doesn’t exist without grief. Without longing.
Without a heart.
I take a step forward, tentatively, the thread between us tugging tight once again. The floorboard creaks beneath my weight. Asher’s eyes snap open, instantly locking onto mine.
We stare at each other, suspended in something neither of us can name. I brace myself for the familiar coldness to settle over his features, for the predatory gleam that always crawls down my spine when he looks at me like prey.
But it doesn’t come.
Instead, I’m met with a gaze so raw and vulnerable, something inside me splinters.
“Little Shadow,” he murmurs, his words catching in the fading notes.
The sound of my nickname on his tongue shatters the trance.
This is Asher. The man who has killed without hesitation, who’s made monsters out of both of us.
And yet . . .
My focus falls to his hands, still hovering over the piano keys. Those same hands that have broken bone and spilled blood now tremble, as if the weight of the music has left them fragile.
“I didn’t know you could play,” I manage to say, my voice barely cutting through the silence of the room.
Asher drops his gaze to the piano, a frown tugging at his brow. “Caleb was the one who had lessons,” he says quietly. “Before . . . everything.” His fingers twitch over the keys, like muscle memory alone is keeping them steady. “I just . . . remember.”
The words hang in the air between us, heavy with unspoken memories and shared pain. I take another hesitant step forward, drawn by some inexplicable force, the distance between us shrinking like it always does.
But there are things I need to discuss with him before he fades into Caleb’s subconscious once again. I need to stand strong, not get sucked in to the power Asher makes me feel.
“You killed Terry,” I say flatly, like it’s just another fact on the table.
Asher doesn’t look at me. His fingers glide over the keys once again, the melody as steady as his hands. “Do you have a point to make, Little Shadow?”
The nickname grates against me now, sharp and intimate all at once.
“Why do you call me that?” I say, wrapping my arms tight around my waist as though it’ll hold me together.
When I’m around Asher, it’s hard enough to breathe, let alone do anything else.
His hazel eyes find mine, his expression unreadable. “Why not?” His hands slow, the music stretching thin between us. “You’ve always liked it. Especially the other night when I was inside you.”
The memory slams into me, unwanted but electric. The way his hands gripped my hips like I’d slip right through his fingers if he let go. The scrape of his teeth against my skin, the bruises he left behind as proof I’d never shake him.
Heat crawls up my chest. How does he do that? Say those words like they mean nothing, and everything all at once.
“I’m not like you, Asher,” I murmur, shaking my head. “I can’t . . .” The words trail off, my bottom lip caught between my teeth.
I want to close the distance. Let him pull me under like he always does.
But I can’t do that. He’s not Caleb.
And I’m not ready to drown.
“I know,” Asher says simply, as though we’re discussing the weather.
My hands clench into fists, frustration bleeding through me like static. “So that’s it? We aren’t going to talk about what’s happening between us? Or the fact you killed Terry? Do you know what that could do to me if someone finds out?”
Asher doesn’t flinch as his fingers move fluidly, never missing a note. “What is it you want to talk about, Maeve?” he says, almost bored. “I did you a favour. No-one is going to miss that arsehole. Terry had been a very bad boy. Do you want to know what I found?”
God, he’s so frustrating, so hard to read.
I let out a laugh, sharp and bitter. “No, Asher. I don’t want to know, and quite frankly, I don’t care. Plus, I never asked you to kill him. That’s all on you.”
Asher flicks his gaze up to mine, that coldness creeping into his stare.
His hands don’t stop playing. “Sure, you did.” His voice is low, amusement evident in the tone. “You told me he wanted to hurt you. You think I’d let him walk around breathing after that?” He shakes his head, tutting under his breath. “You forget I don’t feel guilt. So you can keep pretending you’re outraged, but we both know”—his fingers strike a low, deliberate chord—“you knew exactly what you were doing when you told me.”
My spine stiffens. “That’s not true.”
Asher finally lifts his hands from the keys, letting the last note hang between us like a question. His gaze darkens, dragging over me like a caress and a curse all at once.
He raises an eyebrow, dropping his hands into his lap, his bare chest rising and falling in a deep, slow rhythm. “Isn’t it?” His voice softens, almost gentle. “You think Caleb would’ve protected you like that? You think he’d do what needs to be done?”
I shake my head, my words catching in my throat.
Asher smirks. “You keep trying to crawl back to the light,” he says, “but you always end up back here. With me.”
I throw a hand up, clutching the sheet tighter in the other. “Do you feel anything at all, Asher? Regret? Love? Or is it all just a game to you?”
He slams his hands against the keys, the discordant crash cutting through the air like a scream. The sound reverberates off the walls, sinking into every dark corner of the room.
“No.” The word is sharp, guttural as he presses his palms flat against the keys, like he’s holding something in. “But sometimes . . .” His jaw ticks as he exhales. “Sometimes I wonder what it would be like if I could. Most of the time, I wish to be anywhere else but locked inside Caleb’s mind. Except for when he’s with you, Little Shadow. Even when he’s only thinking of you. His heart races, and that warmth that rushes over his skin . . .” He swallows, shaking his head infinitesimally. “It’s during those times I forget who I am—what I am. It’s the closest I’ll ever get to what you call love, Maeve. And I’m fine with that because I’m the necessary evil, the one who’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”
The honesty in his voice cuts me deeper than any knife ever could, leaving a wound so raw and aching in its wake I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to stitch it back together.
As much as I want to believe there’s something salvageable in him, I know the truth. Asher doesn’t love like normal people do. He consumes. He possesses. He destroys.
And what’s worse?
I’ve killed, too. I’ve stood in the dark and let it swallow me whole. I suppose we’re both looking for the same thing.
We just want the pain to go away.
But Asher will never admit that. He’d rather bleed out slowly before confessing he’s just as human as the rest of us.
“And what if I told you I was falling in love with Caleb?” My voice falters, the words slipping out before I can stop them. “With . . . you.”
“Is that so?” Asher’s expression doesn’t change. Not at first. But the tick in his jaw, the faintest shift in his eyes, betrays him.
“Yes,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “And I’m going to tell Caleb everything. About us. About what we did.”
Asher shoves to his feet so fast the stool scrapes across the hardwood. He eats up the distance in three long strides, and suddenly he’s everywhere—his body, his scent, his rage pressing in on me.
His presence swallows the air between us, and I retreat instinctively, my back hitting the wall before I even realise I’ve moved.
He leans in, head tilted, eyes sharp and feral like he’s assessing how best to devour me. “Do you really think Caleb will save you from me?”
My pulse spikes in my throat, but I force myself not to flinch. He doesn’t scare me. Not anymore.
“He deserves to know, Asher. I can’t keep hiding things from him.”
His lips curl into something that isn’t quite a smile. “And what exactly do you think will happen when you tell him?” His warm breath fans my face. “It’ll crush him, Maeve. There’s a reason my memories remain locked up tight. I could let them flow, drown him in them if I wanted to, but what good would that do?”
The weight of his words settles in my chest like a stone.
I swallow hard, rubbing at my temple to ease the ache. “I didn’t—I never thought about that.”
Asher presses in closer, slow, predatory, until there’s barely any space between us. The faint scent of his cologne, dark, and something distinctly Asher, wraps around me like a noose.
“You’re being na?ve, Little Shadow.” His tone is almost soft now, gentle like a whispered breath. “Caleb isn’t as strong as you think. He’ll crumble. He already is.” His eyes darken, fracturing for a split second. “He hates me for what I am. But, without me, he’d be dead.”
“You love him,” I say, reaching for him without thinking.
He won’t say it outright, but there’s something just under that cold facade that fights for Caleb. He can lie to himself, but he can’t lie to me.
It’s there. A softness only Caleb can bring out in him.
Asher recoils like I’ve burned him, moving out of reach. “It’s not love,” he snaps. “It’s survival.”
My feet move, and I stalk after him, closing the space he keeps trying to put between us. This isn’t the Asher I’ve come to know. This one is haunted, and I want to crawl into his nightmare alongside him.
“I disagree,” I say, holding out a hand in the off chance he’ll let me touch him. “You care more than you want to admit.”
He clenches his jaw. “Believe what you like,” he says, his voice raw. “But if you’re looking for the softer side of me, you won’t find it.”
I step closer again, lifting my chin, meeting him head-on. This time Asher doesn’t pull away. He stares down at me, his eyes wild and desperate as though he’s fighting a war within himself.
“I don’t need you to be soft.” I trace the angle of his jaw. “That’s what Caleb is for.”
Asher’s laugh is cold and bitter, cutting through the tension like broken glass. “He’s weak, Maeve.” He leans in, crowding me again, towering over me like the shadow he’s always been. “A pathetic shell I must inhabit. You think you love him? You don’t even know him. Not like I do.”
“I know enough.” My voice is steady despite the storm brewing inside me. “I know he wouldn’t hurt me the way you do.”
The words are out before I can stop them. I’ve just dangled a slab of meat in front of the lion.
And I’m the meat.
I stumble back, my legs hitting the edge of the old couch in the corner of the room. Asher follows, like a storm bearing down, until I’m pinned between his body and the cushions. His breath is hot on my face, eyes blazing, feral and unhinged.
“You think you’ll ever rid yourself of me?” He hisses out the words, gripping my arm like a vice. “We’re in this together, Little Shadow. Your hands are as bloodstained as mine.”
I wrench at his grip, but it’s useless. I’m his. He owns me.
“Let go of me, Asher.” I slam my free hand against his chest, my voice stronger than I feel.
A flicker of something else flashes in his eyes—hurt, maybe even fear—but it’s snuffed out in an instant, replaced by the cold, calculating stare of a killer. He steps right into me, and I tumble onto the couch, the air whooshing from my lungs.
“You’re a coward,” I choke out, clutching at my ribs. “A fucking coward.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” His jaw flexes as he paces like a caged animal, raking his fingers through his hair until it sticks out in different directions. “Caleb is weak. He’d be nothing without me. And you?” He rounds on me, eyes dark and wild. “You’re mine.”
I scramble to my feet, anger and fear clawing at my insides, twisting and pulsing. “Caleb is not weak. He’s part of you, whether you want to admit it or not.”
Asher narrows his eyes, his hand coming up fast. Instinct takes over, and I flinch, throwing my hands over my head like a shield.
His breath rushes from him, as though I’ve knocked the air from his lungs without even touching him. “You think I’d hit you?” His voice cracks around the edges, quieter now.
So un-Asher-like.
He steps back, dropping his hands to his sides as if they’ve betrayed him. Like even his own body doesn’t know what to do with him anymore.
I reach for him. “Asher?—”
He shakes his head, retreating further. “You think Caleb will want you when you’ve embraced your darkness, Maeve? He doesn’t know you the way I do. And when he finds out just how black your soul is, he’ll hate you just as much as he hates me.” His voice drops. “He’ll break, Maeve. Because that’s what he does. He breaks.”
The taste of acid creeps up my throat, my stomach knotting so tight it hurts.
“You’re wrong,” I say, my voice shaking with more than just fear. Anger bubbles up inside me, sharp and sudden, as if it could drown out the gnawing guilt. “Caleb loves without question. You’re the one who can’t accept that.”
Asher’s chest rises and falls in quick bursts, his nostrils flaring like a bull about to charge.
The air between us crackles, so tense it could snap. Something dark and fractured flashes behind his eyes, a storm of violence barely contained.
Then, just like a switch being flipped, it’s gone, crystallised into something colder, more controlled.
A cruel smile slides onto his lips. Without a word, he turns, striding towards the door with purposeful steps. The floorboards creak beneath his weight.
He pauses at the door, glancing over his shoulder, is gaze meeting mine, flat and unreadable. “Whatever happens next, Little Shadow,” he says quietly, “remember . . . it’s on you.”
He slams a hand against the wall, the bang reverberating through the house like a thunderclap. His silhouette lingers in the open doorway for a heartbeat, backlit by the warmth of the hallway light.
I blink, and he’s gone, swallowed by his own shadows.