Chapter 23 Ashton
ASHTON
As the morning light filters through the windows, casting a soft, golden glow across the room, I find myself staring out, lost in thought, watching as another balloon drifts down the winding path leading up to the house.
It’s a different color today, a stark, ominous red.
I already know who it’s from; I’ve known for days.
Each balloon is a silent warning, an unspoken message from Lilith creeping closer, tightening her web around us.
Part of me knew this couldn’t last, that there was always an end waiting just out of sight.
Lilith’s growing presence means Dove is no longer safe here.
If I keep her, I’ll put her in harm’s way.
But letting her go? The very thought feels like it’s tearing something open inside me.
She’s burrowed so deep that I can’t tell where I end and she begins, and yet…
“Ashton?” Her voice cuts through my thoughts, soft, uncertain, like she’s sensing the shift in the air.
I don’t turn, don’t meet her gaze, because I know if I do, I’ll break. She deserves better than this, better than me, and yet I can feel her eyes on me, can feel the way her presence fills every corner of this room, of me.
“What is it?” I reply, my voice sharp, colder than I mean for it to be. I want her to go away, to leave before I lose my nerve, but she steps closer instead.
“You’ve been distant all morning,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “What’s going on?”
I steel myself, hardening every piece of me that’s ever softened under her touch. “You’re leaving today, Dove.” The words come out harsh, final, leaving no room for argument.
There’s a silence, heavy and charged. I can feel her shock, the weight of her breath catching in her throat. She doesn’t believe me. She can’t believe me.
“What happened to forever?” she asks, her voice fragile, cracking under the strain. There’s something raw in her gaze, something that tears at me, but I force myself to remain still, to keep the mask firmly in place.
“Forever?” I scoff, letting the word hang in the air like a cruel joke. “Did you really think this was real?” My words sound distant, hollow, even to me, but I know I have to say them. If I don’t, she’ll never leave. She’ll never be safe.
She stares at me, her expression shattering like glass.
I see it all in her eyes—the disbelief, the pain, the realization that I’ve broken something inside her.
And it feels like I’ve taken a blade to my own chest, twisting it deeper with every second that I don’t pull her close, that I don’t tell her the truth.
But I can’t. For her sake, I have to let her go.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I say, feigning a disinterest that feels like acid in my mouth. “It was just a game, Dove. You were just… something to pass the time.”
She recoils, her eyes wide, and I know I’ve pushed too far, but I have to keep going. “Go on,” I continue, gesturing toward the door, trying to hold on to whatever’s left of my resolve. “Pack your things. There’s nothing left for you here.”
She stands there, still and silent, her broken gaze piercing through every lie, every attempt I make to sever this connection. She doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, as if she’s willing me to crack, to tell her that it’s all just a terrible joke. But I don’t.
With one last lingering look, she turns and walks away, leaving me in the silence, with only the weight of my own decisions pressing down on me. The balloons outside drift closer, red against the soft morning sky, and I watch them, knowing that I’ve finally done what I never wanted to do.
I’ve let her go.
The sound of Dove moving around the room reaches me, and I don’t dare look up.
I hear the soft rustle of her bag, the shuffle of her feet on the floor, and the quiet, almost imperceptible hitch in her breath.
I know exactly what she’s doing, and every movement she makes drives a knife deeper into my chest.
She’s packing. She’s leaving. The very thought of it feels like a gut punch, but I can’t let her see how much it hurts. I have to keep up the act. I have to make her believe every word I’ve said to her, every icy dismissal, every layer of cold indifference I’ve wrapped myself in.
I can hear her breathing, the sound of her trying to hold back tears, and it breaks me, piece by piece, but I won’t give in. I can’t.
I don’t want to look at her, but I force myself to, just for a second.
Just to make sure she knows this is real, that I’m not playing some cruel game.
Her eyes are red-rimmed, her lips trembling, and I feel a pang of something inside me that I don’t recognize—something desperate, something dangerous.
But I shove it down, bury it as deep as I can.
“Dove,” I say, my voice colder than I intend. I don’t know if I can do this, if I can watch her walk out of here and never come back, but I have to. “There’s a car waiting outside for you.”
The words taste like ash on my tongue, but I don’t let them falter. I keep my gaze fixed on hers, even though the sight of her in such pain is almost more than I can bear.
Her hand falters on the strap of her bag, and she looks at me, really looks at me, her eyes wide with disbelief.
“Ashton… please…” Her voice breaks, a quiet plea that slices through the air, and I can see the way she’s fighting to hold herself together, to not completely unravel in front of me.
I see it in the trembling of her lips, in the way her body is tight with the effort to not fall apart.
She steps closer, her voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t do this. Please. Don’t make me leave you.”
The desperation in her voice, the raw need, makes my chest tighten, but I don’t let it show. I can’t.
“You don’t have a choice,” I mutter, my voice dark and cutting, trying to keep the tremor of emotion out of it. “I’ve made up my mind. It’s over, Dove. You don’t belong here.”
Her face crumples, and the tears she’s been holding back finally break free, spilling down her cheeks in a steady stream. My eyes follow the path of each tear as if they’re burning me, leaving marks on my soul that I can’t erase. But I don’t move, don’t reach out to comfort her. I can’t.
“No… Ashton, please,” she pleads, her voice breaking. “I don’t want to go. I don’t want to leave you.”
Her words hit me like a freight train, and for a moment, I almost give in. Almost. But I know that if I do, if I let her stay, she’ll never be safe. Lilith will come for her. Lilith will tear us apart. And I can’t let that happen.
“You’re just a toy, Dove,” I tell her, each word cold and sharp, like a slap across her face. I can see the pain in her eyes, but I can’t stop myself. “That’s all you ever were to me. A pretty little distraction, something to pass the time. I never wanted you. I just wanted to break you.”
She takes a step back, her hands shaking as if she can’t believe the words coming out of my mouth. Her eyes search mine, looking for the truth, but all she’ll find is a cold, empty shell of the man who once wanted her.
I push it further, each word like a blade. “You’re nothing. You mean nothing. I don’t need you. I don’t want you. You’re just a game to me.”
Her breath hitches, and for a moment, she looks like she’s going to collapse.
She blinks, as if trying to clear away the tears, but they keep coming, unstoppable now, and I know I’ve broken her.
And I hate myself for it. I hate myself for making her believe this is what she is to me, for making her feel like she’s nothing.
But I can’t stop. I can’t let her see the truth. Because if she does, she’ll never leave. And I need her to leave. For her own good.
“Go,” I whisper, the word so quiet it almost doesn’t sound like me. “Before it gets worse.”
Her eyes meet mine one last time, and for the briefest moment, I see the love she has for me, the trust. And it rips me apart. But I don’t show it. I can’t.
With one last broken sob, she turns and walks away, the sound of her footsteps echoing in the silence. And I feel like I’ve just lost everything.
But I don’t let her see the cracks forming in my armor. I don’t let her see the devastation I’m hiding behind this cold, cruel facade.
I’ve done what I had to do. I’ve made her believe she doesn’t belong here. That she doesn’t belong with me.
And yet, as the door closes behind her, I realize I’ve never been more alone in my life.
The door clicks shut behind her with a sound that echoes in the pit of my stomach.
I stand there, frozen, eyes locked on Dove as she walks to the car.
Her shoulders are slumped, her back to me, each step further from me, each movement a knife twisting deeper into my chest. I can see her hands trembling, her grip tight on her bag, as if she’s holding onto something—anything—that could keep her from falling apart.
The car sits idling in the driveway, its engine a quiet hum in the stillness of the morning.
I can’t tear my eyes away as she climbs into the backseat, her figure small and broken against the black leather interior.
Her eyes don’t look back at me. She won’t.
Not now. I know that’s the last time I’ll ever see her like this—vulnerable, trusting, full of something I can never return.
The door to the car closes with a soft thud, and I stand there in the same spot, staring.
Staring at the emptiness she’s left in the wake of her departure.
I want to call out to her. To run after her.
To tell her everything I’ve kept buried deep inside of me.
But I know it’s too late. She’s already gone.
You broke her.
The thought slams into me like a sledgehammer, and the pain rips through me, sharp and raw, impossible to ignore. My chest tightens as if someone’s wrapped a vise around my heart, squeezing tighter with each passing second. I should have never done this. I should have never let her in.
But the truth is, I never had a choice. Not with her. Not when she looked at me with those wide, trusting eyes and made me feel something other than the emptiness I’ve lived with for years.
I push away the thoughts of her soft laughter, of the way she made the whole house feel like home, like warmth. I push it all away because if I let myself dwell on it, I’ll lose myself. And I can’t afford to lose myself, not now. Not when there’s so much at stake.
The car’s engine rumbles as it begins to roll forward, and my body freezes even more. My hands are clenched into fists at my sides, nails digging into the palms of my hands, but the pain doesn’t seem to reach me. It’s all numbness, all the way down to my bones.
She’s gone.
And I am the one who drove her away.
I watch the car as it pulls away from the driveway; the tires crunching softly against the gravel.
Each passing second feels like an eternity.
I can see her in the backseat, even though she’s not looking at me anymore.
She’s staring out the window. The tears I know are still fresh in her eyes, invisible to the world around her.
I don’t know if she’s crying anymore or if she’s even capable of it.
I did this to her. I made her believe that I didn’t care, that I was nothing but the monster she thought I was when I first took her. I told her she meant nothing, that I was just playing with her like some twisted game. And the worst part?
She believed me. She had to.
I swallow the lump in my throat, the bitterness of my own words still lingering on my tongue.
She was never meant to stay.
I whisper the words to myself, but they offer no comfort.
There’s nothing to soften the blow of knowing I’ve broken her.
That I’ve shattered something pure, something real, just because I couldn’t let go of my own demons.
She wasn’t meant to be mine. She wasn’t meant to be a part of my life. I never had the right to her.
The car inches down the long drive, moving farther away from me, farther away from this house, from everything that ever felt like it could be real.
Every inch of distance feels like an unbearable weight pressing down on me.
I take a step forward, then stop, as if even the act of moving closer to the car would make me even more of a coward.
I can see the faint silhouette of her in the back window, and for one moment, it feels like I’m back in the circus, the world spinning around me, everything going on in a blur of colors and lights while I stay anchored to the cold, dark truth of my existence.
She was never supposed to change me. She was never supposed to make me feel something.
But she did. And now I’m left standing here, watching her leave, knowing that I’ll never get this back. That I can never undo what I’ve done.
The car reaches the end of the driveway, and I can feel my body tense, like I’m bracing for impact. I don’t know what I’m waiting for. The world to stop spinning? Her to come running back to me? Some miracle that would rewrite everything that just happened?
But it doesn’t. It keeps moving, keeps rolling away from me. And I feel like I’m being buried alive.
The car disappears down the road, the sound of the tires on gravel fading into the distance, and then there’s nothing.
Silence.
Just the cold, crushing silence of a house that’s lost its light, its warmth. Just the echo of my own heart breaking in a way I didn’t think was possible.
I should have let her go sooner. I should have never pulled her in.
But it’s too late now.
And I’m left with the hollow feeling of regret. The ghost of her face still burned into my memory, and the unbearable weight of knowing that I’m the one who destroyed us.