Chapter 18
Khalee
As we step out of the shop, we’re both tense.
I can sense the storm brewing within him, so while walking back to my house, my ghost doesn’t say much, and honestly, neither do I.
Inside, I had tried to ask the shopkeeper about the guitar, hoping to find some shred of information that could piece together Kaze’s story. The man had been helpful enough, but he hadn’t recorded the sale properly, so there was no surname or data for us to work with.
When the shopkeeper asked if I knew the guitar’s owner, I fumbled for an excuse, saying I was trying to track him down and if I could, I could try to return the guitar.
It wasn’t entirely a lie, but it wasn’t the truth either.
I gave the man my contact information, just in case he found something in the archives. I knew it was a long shot, but it felt like the only thing I could do.
I’d also asked the man if he thought that Kaze was from the area.
The shopkeeper confirmed it, saying he didn’t seem like someone passing through, and even if I wasn’t sure enough before, because on our date he never confirmed living in Stormhaven, he clearly was comfortable enough around to know the place.
So, that small piece of information felt like a puzzle piece clicking into place, but the picture it was forming was still incomplete, and something in me told me we were running out of time.
“We’ll figure it all out,” I say, my voice soft but firm. “We’ll find the answers.” I add it like a promise, because the truth is, I feel the need to reassure him, to ease the sadness I can see etched in his eyes.
Kaze turns to me, his expression unreadable. Too careful. Too blank.
For a second, I see something flicker in his eyes, pain, maybe, but it vanishes before I can be sure.
He just looks at me. Silent. Guarded.
It feels… off.
Other times, when pieces of his past surfaced, he let me in. Not completely, but enough. Enough that I could share the weight of it with him.
But now?
Now, there’s a wall. A distance that wasn’t there before.
And it unsettles me, the way he just stares, like he’s measuring something I don’t understand.
I shift slightly, waiting for him to say something, anything, but he doesn’t.
And I don’t know why, but it makes my chest feel tight.
It’s like I’m missing something.
I just want to get home.
We keep walking on, slowly, the unease still lingering, but before we walk long enough, someone calls my name.
I turn, and the blood drains from my face as I see Mark approaching.
My stomach twists into a painful knot.
He looks every bit as smug and insufferable as I know him to be, and a sickening wave of unease washes over me.
I don’t have to fake the discomfort that grips me.
My skin crawls just being near him.
Kaze’s presence beside me is a faint comfort, but when I glance at him, his form feels heavier, almost darker, like he’s absorbing the tension of the moment.
He doesn’t move to intervene, and I remind myself he can’t. Mark can’t see him, but Kaze’s glare could burn through steel as he watches the scene unfold.
“I didn’t expect to see you here,” he says, his tone dripping with mock surprise.
I bristle at his condescension, a mix of anger and unease swirling inside me. “What do you want, Mark?”
He shrugs, his eyes flicking briefly in Kaze’s direction, though there’s nothing for him to see. “Just happened to be passing by. Saw you. Thought I’d say hello.”
“Well, I would say it was nice to see you, but I’m no liar,” I say, my voice strained and cold. “Besides, I have somewhere to be.” I turn to walk away, desperate to put distance between us, but before I can take more than a step, his hand grabs my arm.
The touch sends a bolt of panic through me, sharp and suffocating.
My breath catches, and I freeze.
Kaze’s typically warm, protective presence shifts to something icy and rigid. When I glance at him, his eyes are dark, his jaw clenched, a storm of anger barely contained beneath the surface.
“Oh, stop running away from me,” Mark’s voice is casual, almost amused, but the grip on my arm tightens. “I was hoping to have you all to myself now that I found you alone.”
“Let go of me,” I say, sharply and steadily despite the tremor in my chest.
Mark laughs, the sound grating against my nerves. “Come on, baby. Don’t be like that. You’re still upset about… what happened? Maybe it should’ve been only me. Probably you’d have liked it more. But hey, I’m all about second chances.”
“What the hell is he talking about, Khalee?” Kaze’s voice cuts through the fog in my mind, raging. His presence looms larger, more intense, and I feel sadness well up inside me.
Nothing good can come of him knowing.
No one should know.
“Fuck you, Mark,” I snap, my voice almost breaking now, the fire in my chest burning through with fear. “The day I want you will be a cold day in hell, you son of a bitch. Take your hands off me, or I’ll make sure you regret it.”
His smirk falters for a fraction of a second before returning with slimy persistence. “You’re still so dramatic. Like I’m supposed to be afraid of you.” He leans in slightly, his voice dropping to a low, menacing whisper. “You know, I could show you a good time.”
The nausea rises so fast it’s dizzying.
I glance at Kaze and notice… his form starts flickering.
No. No.
It can’t happen.
Not here.
Not right now.
But the air around him seems to crackle with fury, his form tense and imposing. His dark eyes are locked on Mark, and I can feel the waves of anger radiating off him, feeding from my fear.
Fuck, if this doesn’t stop, he’s going to get solid again and… I don’t even know what the hell that even means.
I try to pull away, to avoid everything about this situation, but Mark’s presence only intensifies my panic. Instead of moving away from me, he steps closer, his hand reaching out again, a sneer curling his lip, and in that moment, my body locks up.
Every nerve in me goes rigid, every breath comes too shallow, too fast.
My skin feels too tight. My chest is too small.
His fingers tighten around my arm again, and suddenly, I’m not here anymore.
I’m then.
Then, when his touch meant something far worse.
Then, when his voice slithered against my skin, dripping with venom and control.
Then, when I learned that fear wasn’t just a feeling, it was a cage.
My ears ring. My pulse pounds against my skull, drowning out everything except him.
His voice.
“You know, I like women who play hard to get.”
The words feel like oil, thick and suffocating, sliding into my lungs, coating my ribs. I try to pull away, to breathe, to stop myself from spiraling, but his grip tightens.
I can’t move.
I can’t breathe.
“But your sister? She’s too easy, and I’m already tired.”
That’s it.
That’s it.
Something inside me snaps, white-hot and violent.
My body moves before my mind catches up.
My fist connects with his cheek, hard, relentless, the force rattling up my arm. The crack of impact cuts through the haze, a jolt of power flooding through me as Mark staggers back, clutching his face.
For a second, I can breathe again.
Just for a second.
Then he straightens, his smirk returning, his eyes full of something darker, something twisted, but before I can step away, his hand snaps out, grabbing my face.
Cold. Unyielding. Claiming.
I freeze.
My breath shatters inside me.
Not again.
Not again, not again, not again.
“I think you need to remember who’s in charge here,” he sneers, his fingers digging into my jaw, forcing me to look at him. “After all, the secrets aren’t mine to keep, baby.”
No. No, no, no.
I feel sick.
My body burns with the urge to run, but my feet are planted, my mind fracturing under the weight of his words.
“What do you think your parents would say if they knew both their daughters are whores?”
I flinch. The word slices through me, carving something raw and ugly into my bones.
He leans closer, his breath against my skin, and I want to disappear.
“Oh, better than that, what would Mada say if she knew about her sister?”
I shove him.
With everything in me, I push against his chest and rip myself away, stumbling backward, gasping, my hands shaking so hard I can barely keep them up.
“Shut up,” I choke out, my voice cracking.
He laughs.
He fucking laughs.
“Shut up, shut up, shut up!”
I break.
I don’t know if it’s rage or panic or something worse, but the last thing I hear is his laughter ringing in my ears as I start running under the weight of it all.
“Khalee, wait,” I hear Kaze say from a distance. “Please stop.” He begs me, but I can’t stop.
The panic is suffocating me, the memories are too heavy to rule them now, and I’m sure that if, right now, Kaze looks me in the eye, he’ll be able to understand everything.
Mainly because I don’t have enough strength in me to lie to him or hide how much Mark affects me, and the reasons why his presence in my life is a nightmare.
So I run.
I run without direction, and the next thing I know, I’m in front of a building that is as familiar as it is new.
The old walls and the metal ladder I once climbed to the roof have been refurbished. The brick facade has been cleaned up, the graffiti from years ago scrubbed away, but traces of its past linger in the faint shadows of what used to be.
I stop to catch my breath, leaning against the cool brick. The air smells like damp concrete and faint traces of oil from a nearby mechanic shop.
The building feels smaller now, or maybe I’ve grown, both in stature and in the significance of what I carry.
I remember this place as a refuge once, a sanctuary where I could lose myself among the stars on the roof and the quiet hum of the world below.
Back then, it felt infinite, a place where the weight of the world couldn’t reach me.
Now, it’s a cruel reminder of the happiest night of my life, and everything I’ve lost since.
Tears stream down my face, hot and constant, because of all the places the universe could have thrown in my path, it had to be this one.
This building, this rooftop, this memory.
I feel Kaze’s presence behind me, his energy a familiar warmth in the chill of the afternoon. I hear him call my name, his voice urgent, desperate, but I can’t turn around.
I can’t face him.
Not now.
Not like this.
Even though it hurts, even though the memories threaten to drown me, I climb the stairs with a strength I didn’t know I had, my breaths ragged and shallow.
Each step feels heavier than the last, as if the weight of my past is dragging me down. When I finally reach the rooftop, the afternoon breeze greets me, soft and indifferent, and it’s too much.
My legs give way, and I brace myself for the cold, unforgiving impact of the concrete beneath me.
But it’s not the concrete I feel.
It’s him.
Strong arms wrap around me, pulling me close, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe.
His warmth is impossible, defying every law of existence, but it’s here.
It’s real.
And it’s holding me together when everything else is falling apart.
I sob into his chest, my hands clutching at him as if letting go would shatter me completely.
Kaze doesn’t say anything.
He just holds me.
His presence is silent but grounding, like the earth beneath my feet when everything else is spinning.
“I’m here,” he whispers finally, his voice low and steady. “I’ve got you.”
And somehow, those three words are enough to loosen the tightness in my chest. They don’t erase the pain, but they remind me I’m not alone in it.
Not anymore.
And for a brief, fleeting moment, the chaos quiets because I let myself believe, just for a moment, that this is where I’m meant to be.