51. Harmony
Harmon y
The world is colorless.
Muted grays and silvers stretch out around me, like I’m walking through a memory that never belonged to me. The ground is soft beneath my feet—like ash or fog—and the air hums with something ancient. Something waiting.
I don’t know where I am. But I know I’m not awake.
Not really.
Ahead of me is a hallway, narrow and endless. Flickering lights swing above like they’re hanging from the ribs of some great beast, bones creaking with every sway. The walls pulse like veins.
And at the end of the hall—him.
Reese.
He’s standing in a doorway. Dressed in black, head bowed, hands bloodied. But when he looks up, I forget how to breathe.
Because he sees me.
The version of me I buried long ago.
Not the broken, haunted girl.
Not the weapon Damien forged and discarded.
But me.
Barefoot, trembling, real .
“Why are you here?” I ask, voice echoing around us like wind through a mausoleum.
“To find you,” he says.
“You shouldn’t be.”
“I never left.”
He steps forward. With every movement, the hallway behind him darkens. The lights shatter one by one. But I don’t move.
I let him come.
“I’m not worth it,” I whisper.
He cups my face like I’m made of glass, tracing the scar under my jaw with a reverence I don’t deserve.
“I decide what’s worth it,” he says.
The fog rolls in thicker.
Suddenly, we’re standing in water—ankle deep. Cold. Still. A lake stretching out infinitely. We’re the only ones left in the world.
“You lied to him,” he says quietly.
“Who?”
“Damien. When you said you were his.”
I nod. “It was the only way to survive.”
Reese’s hand drops to my throat. Not hard. Not cruel.
Just… claiming.
“You don’t have to lie anymore.”
The water ripples beneath us, turning darker. Warmer.
Red.
It climbs up my calves. My thighs. It stains the edges of the sky.
And still, I don’t move.
“Am I dreaming?” I ask him.
He leans in, lips brushing my ear.
“No. You’re remembering.”
I blink—and suddenly we’re back in the motel room. That night. That kiss .
Only this time… he walks away.
I scream for him to stay, but the door slams shut. Locks click. And I’m alone.
Alone.
Alone—
Until I feel it.
A hand. Warm. Real.
Clutching mine in the dark.
His voice filters through the haze, this time from the real world. Muffled. Choked.
“Harmony. Please—just wake up. I can’t lose you.”
The dream shatters.
But the feeling lingers.
His hand on my cheek.
His lips on my name.
His love… unspoken, but loud enough to shake me back to life .