Chapter 22
Adora
I must still be dreaming. Caught in one of those cruel half-sleep nightmares. Because that… that thing leaning against the door? It looks like Ghost. But it doesn’t feel like him. Not even his dungeon version.
The man I knew burned when he looked at me. Fire and fury and heat. Even in his silence, even in his quiet rage, he was alive in my presence. But this man? He watches me with dead eyes. Empty. Unblinking. Like he’s already buried six feet under and this is just his shell.
When he speaks, I don’t respond. Can’t. Something is lodged in my throat. Grief, fury and fear are fighting a war inside me.
I rise from the bed slowly, like sudden movement might break whatever spell is holding him upright. My eyes never leave his. His never leave mine.
He’s coiled tight, every inch of him wired and tense. Like he’s waiting for something. An execution. A verdict. Maybe a bullet to the heart.
It’s too early for this. Too early in the morning. Too early after everything.
My body wants to move forward. My heart wants to throw itself against him and scream into his chest that I missed him, that I hate him, that he shouldn’t confuse me this much.
But I stay frozen. Because the second I saw him, everything came back. All of it. Every kiss, every scar he left on my soul.
I see the man who held me like I was precious, and the monster who cut me into pieces.
I was afraid, so afraid of seeing him again. Afraid that I don’t hate him enough. Or worse, that I hate him too much.
And looking at him now, I don’t know what the fuck I’m feeling.
God, I’m such a mess.
My soul is shaking in its cage. Every second I look at him, it gets worse. The ache of his absence, the pull of what we used to be… they split me open.
I want to cry. I want to run. I want to jump into his arms and pretend we’re still us. To cling to him tightly and beg him to tell me that it was all just a nightmare. That he didn’t do what he did. That nothing bad ever happened between us.
But mostly, I just want to punch him. For still making me feel anything at all.
I steady myself. Clench my fists and face the monster that I fell in love with. Sudden rage scorches everything soft inside me. That’s better. Anger is safe. It keeps the longing at bay.
I could ignore him. Just like I did all these months. It made him run, after all. Maybe it would send him away now, too. Ria could take over. I’m sure even Temperance would jump into the battle. Even Griffin.
But I can’t be a coward forever. I can’t hide behind Ria and hope for the best. I can’t turn my eyes away and pretend anymore. Pretend that I didn’t love this man with my whole heart and he destroyed me so carelessly. Pretend that I could forget him just because I don’t see him.
This is my battle, and this monster… he’s still mine to slay.
I take a breath. It shakes. My throat is sandpaper, raw and locked tight. Still, I force the words out.
Only one makes it past my lips, and it surprises even me.
“Divorce.”
The word rips out of me before I can stop it. It’s not how I meant to start this war, but fuck it. It’s out now, so I’m going to let it bleed.
Ghost doesn’t move at first. Just uncrosses his arms, slowly, like a predator stretching before the pounce. Then he takes a step forward. One dangerous, deliberate step.
“What?” He whispers.
My heart stutters in my chest.
The darkness in his eyes? It’s different now. Hungrier. Deeper. It looks like it’s crawling to the surface, looking for someone to devour. Me, clearly.
I hold my ground.
“Divorce,” I repeat, voice stronger now. “I said divorce. I have the papers. You’ll sign them. Today.”
His mouth curves up, just a little. But it’s not a smile. I don’t know what the hell it is. He tilts his head, eyes never leaving mine, and for a second — a single second — I feel like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff, and he’s deciding whether to push me or pull me toward him.
It’s unnerving. It’s clear he’s weighing my resolve. Well, fuck that! He can weigh all he wants. We’re dead, and we’re not coming back to life.
“Will I?” he murmurs, his voice like silk stretched over a razor.
That’s a fucking dare, not a question.
Fuck. I wish I was like Temperance. Have that feral kind of fire.
That spine made of steel. I wish I knew how to scorch the earth the way she did.
What she did to Bones — damn! I gobbled every word when she told me their story.
Instead, I’m shaking and furious and praying I don’t crumble under the weight of this man’s gaze.
I square my shoulders. Snap my spine straight. I refuse to go down like this.
“Yes, you will,” I hiss. “By everything that’s holy, I will be free of you in every goddamn way.”
A beat.
“Today,” I scream the word, and stomp my foot like a petulant child. Like the fury inside me has nowhere else to go except into the floor.
Silence answers back. Thick. Suffocating. Crawling with everything unspoken.
He steps forward. I step back. Instinct. Muscle memory. We dance this dance until I hit the wall and he hits me with his towering, all-consuming presence.
His hand plants next to my head, his body close enough that his heat burns my skin. My breath comes out in shallow bursts.
This isn’t how I wanted this to go. His closeness always fucked with my head. Think, Adora, think!
He leans in, his mouth brushing the space just above mine. His eyes locked on me.
“No,” he breathes, and it’s not just defiance. It’s a vow.
My body jolts with rage. I move to knee him in the balls as hard as I can, but he’s faster, and traps my leg between his own. I sway, off-balance, and his hand snaps to my waist, steadying me. Like he still gets to do that.
I want to scream my lungs out. Instead, I glare up at him. Eyes wild. Throat burning with every insult I want to throw in his face.
He smiles. This time, a real one. Brief. Wicked. And then he touches me. Fingers on my jaw. Thumb sliding over my lips, silencing all the curse words trying to fight their way out of me.
“I won’t give you a divorce, Adora,” he says, voice low. His gaze darkens and his smile vanishes. “Not until I know you’re safe.”
I freeze, my brain stunned stupid by his sheer insolence.
“What the hell kind of bullshit is that?” My words are muffled against his thumb. “That’s a stupid excuse.”
I snap my teeth at his thumb like a childish, feral creature. He drops his hand, chuckling. But the sound is hollow.
“Maybe.” He shrugs a shoulder. Casual.
I slam both hands into his chest and shove him as hard as I can. He lets me. Steps back and gives me the space I need to finally think.
My heart’s racing. My head’s spinning. The fact that, after everything, he can still make me react — lose my cool — doesn’t bode well for me. I feel the urge to run and hide behind Ria’s skirt. And to also throw a brick at his head.
He looks away. Takes a breath. Then meets my eyes again, jaw tight.
“Your safety comes first,” he says. “We’ll talk paperwork after the snake freaks are handled.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” I spit. “The papers are done. You just have to sign.”
“I don’t sign anything I haven’t read. Thoroughly. My lawyer will take a look. Advise me and shit,” he shrugs.
I gape at him, at the audacity coming from his mouth.
“I’m not asking for anything, Ghost. Not a dime. Not a thing. Just my fucking freedom.”
He stares me down. Lets the silence play with my already frayed patience.
“My decision stands,” he declares, tone final. Like that’s it. Like I have no choice but to accept it.
Fuck this. Fuck. This. I start pacing. Fast. Back and forth like a caged animal. My skin’s on fire. My blood’s boiling.
He just watches. Calm. Still. Infuriating. My glare intensifies, turning outright vicious. He doesn’t react. At all. And that’s when something inside me snaps.
An inferno blazes in my chest, burning through every rational thought.
Before I know it, I’m screaming and throwing the small lamp from the bedside at his head. He dodges it. Easily. It only makes me angrier.
Next comes an ashtray. It shatters behind him, sending shards of glass through the room. It’s not enough. Not. Enough. Not even close.
The rage roars out of me. Unstoppable.
A plate. A speaker. A busted helmet. A book. A mug. A fucking chair. I throw them all. Every object a weapon of fury. Every movement a war cry. Through broken screams, I launch them all. Aiming for his head, his chest, his entire existence.
I don’t stop. I don’t stop until the violin hits the wall and cracks against it. Until I realize that one of the few things that ever brought light into my life is now shattered. Gone. Just like my soul. I freeze, my eyes fixated on it.
My knees wobble. My ragged breathing is the only sound in the room.
He’s still standing. When I finally look at him, I see blood trickling down his cheek. Two small cuts. Somehow, those tiny drops of his blood are like needles piercing my heart. My rage evaporates at the sight of them and leaves nothing behind.
“I don’t want to be married to you.”
The words that fall out of my mouth are a broken sound. Ugly. Laced with hurt.
“I know,” he whispers.
And it’s the way he says it — quiet, raw –that slams straight into my ribs.
That look in his eyes? It’s soaked in grief.
It’s the first real flicker of humanity I’ve seen in him since I woke up in this suffocating room.
And I realize that, for some reason, he needs this delay.
I hate it. I hate that it twists something inside my chest. That it makes me feel anything at all.
Fuck, I wish I could shut it off. Just flick a switch and turn to stone. I wish I could look at him like he’s nothing but furniture. Again. But that ship’s already sailed, hasn’t it?
I spent months trying to forget, shoving thoughts of him into boxes I never meant to open again. Because I knew. I fucking knew. He’s still buried under my skin. And now that he’s standing in front of me again, I’m cracking like cheap glass.