Chapter 29
Twenty-Nine
The party was too loud, too packed, too chaotic—but that was exactly why I was here. The bass rattled the floorboards, vibrating up my spine. Laughter and drunken shouts blurred together, tangled with the scent of alcohol, sweat, and perfume.
This was normal.
Normal people did this—got drunk, met strangers, lost themselves in noise and bodies and shitty beer. Normal people moved on.
That’s what I was doing. Moving on.
I leaned against the kitchen counter, red solo cup in hand, barely paying attention to the conversation circling around me. Some guy—Wes, I think—was telling a story about sneaking into a professor’s office. His arms flailed as he spoke, nearly knocking into a girl behind him. Beer sloshed over the rim of his cup, splattering onto the counter.
The people around him laughed, and I forced a smirk. Just enough to blend in.
I should’ve been enjoying this. It should’ve been easy—letting go, pretending none of it mattered.
But my mind wouldn’t shut the fuck up.
Aeron should’ve been here, standing next to me, muttering some sarcastic remark about how much of a dumbass Wes was. Kael would be flipping that stupid fucking coin between his fingers, unimpressed by it all.
And Ciaran?—
My grip tightened around the cup. I tipped my head back, downing half the drink, drowning the thought before it could take root and fester. They weren’t here. They weren’t coming.
"Hey, you okay?"
The voice snapped me out of my head.
I turned, meeting her eyes. Elise.
She was stunning—dark eyes, full lips, hair that fell in soft waves over her shoulders. Too stunning, in a way that made my chest ache like a fresh wound.
For half a second, she looked like her.
Lilith.
I blinked, and it was gone. Just a trick of the light. Just my fucked-up brain playing games with me.
Elise smiled, tilting her head. "You’ve been staring at your drink for like five minutes. Bad mix, or deep thoughts?"
I exhaled sharply, forcing a smirk. "Little bit of both."
She laughed, and something about the sound dug under my ribs, sharp and familiar.
Lilith used to laugh like that.
I shoved the thought aside before it could dig deeper.
"You came with Wes, right?" she asked, leaning against the counter beside me.
"Yeah. Met him through a class. Seemed chill enough."
Elise snorted. "That’s one word for it. He’s entertaining, I’ll give him that."
I followed her gaze to where Wes was reenacting some grand escape from campus security, nearly face-planting in the process. The people around him howled with laughter.
It should’ve felt good to be around people again. People who weren’t drowning in grief, in ghosts, in memories that refused to let go.
I hadn’t realized how much I’d needed this.
Elise nudged me lightly with her elbow. "You don’t seem like the party type."
I smirked. "What gave it away?"
"The brooding. The leaning against the counter like you’re too cool for this." She grinned. "But you’re still here."
"Guess I figured I’d try the whole social thing again."
Her expression softened. "Yeah? And how’s that working out for you?"
For the first time, I really looked at her.
She was interested—not just in conversation, but in me. And I liked that.
Liked the way she leaned in slightly, like something about me pulled her closer.
Like I was still someone worth wanting.
Something in my chest loosened. Just a little.
"Not bad," I admitted.
Elise grinned. "Good. Let’s see if we can make it even better."
She grabbed my wrist, tugging me toward the main room where people were dancing.
For the first time in weeks , I let myself follow.
And for the first time in weeks , I let myself forget.
But forgetting was never an option
I woke up gasping.
No. Not gasping—choking.
My throat clenched, lungs locking up as if something cold and invisible had slid down into my chest.
The room was dark—too dark. My head throbbed, my body drenched in sweat despite the chill crawling up my spine.
I tried to move. I couldn’t.
A weight pressed down on my chest, invisible hands wrapping around my wrists, pinning me against the bed.
The shadows shifted.
A shape moved in the corner.
No. Not a shape. A girl.
My breath hitched.
Lily.
She stood at the foot of the bed, her outline blurred, not quite real, not quite solid. Her eyes were too dark, too hollow, black pits where there should’ve been light.
And she was smiling.
Not the way she used to.
Not the way I remembered.
This was something else.
Something cruel.
"Did you really think you could forget me, Thorne?" she whispered.
Her voice wasn’t right—it echoed, doubled over itself, like two voices speaking at once. One was hers. The other wasn’t.
My pulse hammered against my ribs.
This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.
I squeezed my eyes shut. "You’re not here."
Her voice was right beside my ear now.
"I never left."
A hand brushed down my chest—too cold, too real.
I jerked, tried to move—still couldn’t.
Lily laughed softly, and the sound was wrong, layered with something else. Something hungry.
"You look so much better when you’re scared," she murmured.
The weight on my chest disappeared all at once, and I sat up so fast my head spun.
The room was empty.
The air still smelled like her perfume.
My hands trembled as I ran them over my face.
This wasn’t real.
This wasn’t real.
But the finger-shaped bruises blooming around my wrists told a different story.