Chapter 15
Fifteen
The steam from the still-warm water clung to the tile walls, heavy and oppressive. The faint metallic tang of electricity hung in the air, mingling with the damp smell of scorched metal. He stood there, dead yet not gone, staring at me like I was some ghostly miracle instead of the consequence of his own cruelty.
“You’re…” His voice cracked, shaking as he stumbled over the word. “You’re here.”
I leaned casually against the sink, my arms folded. “What gave it away?” I asked coldly, nodding toward the tub, where his lifeless body floated face-down.
He flinched, his eyes darting to his own corpse and back to me. “I—I didn’t know,” he stammered. “I didn’t think…”
“No,” I cut him off, my voice sharp enough to make him wince. “You didn’t think. That’s your problem.”
The silence that followed was thick, suffocating. Ciaran’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. He looked hollow, his usually sharp demeanor dulled to nothing.
“Why are you still here?” he whispered finally. His voice was barely audible over the faint dripping of water from the faucet.
I laughed, the sound bitter and sharp. “Why am I here?” I echoed. “Do you think I wanted this? Do you think I chose to stay tethered to you?”
His brow furrowed, confusion flickering across his face. “I don’t… understand.”
“Of course, you don’t,” I snapped, taking a step closer. “You never did. The bonds, Ciaran. The ones you all pretended didn’t exist—they didn’t break when I died. They chained me to you.”
His face paled, his hands twitching at his sides. “I thought…” His gaze flicked back to the tub, as if searching for answers. “I thought the bond would… go.”
“It didn’t,” I hissed, my voice low and venomous. “You might have killed me, but the bond made sure I stayed. Congratulations.”
He staggered slightly, his face crumpling. “Lily, I?—”
“Don’t,” I snarled, the word slicing through the air. “Don’t call me that.”
His brow knit tighter, his confusion deepening. “But… you’re Lily.”
I stepped closer, my presence cold and suffocating. “Lily is dead,” I spat. “You killed her. I’m what’s left.”
His chest rose and fell in uneven gasps, his wide eyes searching mine like I was some puzzle he could solve if he just tried hard enough. Good. Let him try. Let him drown in it.
“I didn’t mean to,” he said, his voice breaking. “You have to believe me. I didn’t want any of this to happen.”
I laughed again, the sound cold and hollow, echoing off the tiled walls. “Didn’t mean to?” I repeated, my head shaking with disbelief. “You stood there. You watched. And when it was over, you left. You could’ve gotten help, but instead, you left me there like garbage.”
His breath hitched, tears brimming in his eyes. “I know,” he said quickly, his words tumbling over one another. “I know I did. And I’ve been trying?—”
“Trying?” I cut him off, my voice icy. “Trying to do what, Ciaran? Redeem yourself? Do you think this—killing yourself—makes it better? That it balances the scales?”
His shoulders sagged, his gaze falling to the floor. “I couldn’t live with it,” he said softly, his voice trembling. “The guilt… the weight of it. It was too much.”
“Too much,” I repeated, tasting the bitterness of the words. “You have no idea what ‘too much’ even means. You went about your life, playing at grief, while I was stuck here. Watching. Always watching.”
His shoulders sagged, his gaze falling to the floor. “I thought… I thought it would end there,” he said softly, his voice trembling. “That when you were gone, it would all just… stop.”
“Stop?” I repeated, my tone sharpening. “You thought it was that simple? That my death would be the neat little solution to all your problems?”
He winced, his hands twitching at his sides. “I didn’t know what else to think,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “I couldn’t see a way out. Not for you. Not for me.”
“You didn’t want to see,” I snapped, the lights flickering faintly with the force of my anger. “You stood there. You watched. Then you left me there. You could have gotten help. Instead, you left your fated mate's body there to rot while you pretended you could just move on.”
Ciaran’s head snapped up, his eyes wide with anguish, his breath catching as though my words had physically struck him. “I wasn’t trying to move on,” he rasped, his voice trembling. “I didn’t know how to—how to face what I’d done.”
“You didn’t even try,” I said coldly, the bitterness in my tone cutting like a blade. “You ran. Like a coward. Like all of you.”
His jaw tightened, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. He looked like he wanted to say something, to beg or explain or justify himself, but no words came. Just silence. Heavy and broken.
“You’re not free, Ciaran,” I said finally, my voice low and venomous. “Not from me. Not from this.”
He stared at me, his mouth opening as though to protest, but no sound escaped. His hands clenched at his sides, his entire body trembling as the weight of my words settled over him.
And I didn’t wait to see if he’d recover. I turned, fading into the flickering shadows, leaving him drowning in the aftermath of his own failure.