Chapter 23 #3
“I never fucking stopped,” I snap, spine straightening.
Focus on the burn, Adora. You got this.
I grip the papers tighter, feeling the edges press against my fingers. His eyes flick down, land on them, and I swear, something shifts in the room. In him. The light bends. His face hardens.
I close the distance and shove them into his chest. He catches them one-handed, not taking his eyes off mine.
“Divorce papers,” I say, my tone as crisp as morning air. “Sign them. You’ve got three days.”
“We already talked about—” he starts, voice tight.
“No,” I cut in. “You talked. I didn’t agree to shit.” I lean forward, fury pulsing under my skin. “I remember exactly what you said, Ghost. It was this morning, not last year. My memory’s not the problem here.”
Shit. My thoughts start spiraling, unraveling fast. Tequila burn, I scream inwardly. Focus. I suck in a breath, brace against the chaos swirling between my ribs. Focus. Focus.
“I’m already being generous giving you three days,” I grit out, arms crossing over my chest like a shield. “That’s all you get. Three. Days.”
“I need more time,” he says, the words low and stretched thin. Like he’s holding something back. Like he’s two seconds from cracking.
“I don’t care,” I snap, giving him my best glare. “I’ve had those papers ready for months. I waited long enough. And this little song and dance you’re doing now? This delay? It’s just another way of hurting me.”
“I told you, Adora,” he murmurs. “I’m not trying to hurt you—”
“Then sign the fucking papers!” My voice bounces off the walls, ragged and loud. Desperate.
“You keep saying that like it matters. Like it means something. It doesn’t. Not after everything you did, not after the venom you spit in my face. Not after you set a goddamn trap and watched me walk right into it with a smile on your lips.”
I fold my arms tighter. My voice drops. “You’re a master manipulator, Ghost. A liar. You twisted everything, and I’ll never trust you again. Not with needing time to sign, not with anything.”
Shit. Shit. Shit. This outburst wasn’t part of the plan. This was supposed to be just about the divorce. A clean break. Cold, professional. But now it’s bleeding everywhere.
“You’re right,” he breathes. “I did set a trap, and I walked into it, too. I acted like a monster because of my own fucked-up shit. That’s on me. Not you—”
“I know it’s not on me!” I hiss, pressing my nails into my skin. “Your actions are not my responsibility.”
A breath gets snagged in my throat but I push through it. “I don’t care how broken you were. How twisted your head was.”
My voice shatters. “I didn’t deserve what you did to me.”
The tears come like a flood. Hot and ugly, impossible to stop.
“I deserved to be loved. Really loved. Not discarded and lied to. Not humiliated.” A sob rips out of me. “I’m not toxic,” I whisper, and it nearly breaks me.
“No, you’re not,” he says, voice hoarse and gutted. Full of grief. “You’re the most incredible woman I’ve ever met.” His eyes shine, drowning in regret. “And you deserve love, Adora. All of it. And I did love you. I do love you.”
He takes a step toward me.
“Don’t.” I lift my hand, stopping him cold. “Don’t you dare touch me. Not again.” My voice shakes. “I hate it when you touch me.”
It’s a lie. God, it’s such a lie. But I have to. Because it hurts just to look at him, but it also doesn’t. And my skin still remembers his hands. Still burns for them. But I can't afford to feel that. Not now.
His eyes dim. That dead glaze from before comes back like a curtain pulled shut. Thick. Unbreakable. He steps back and leans against the table again.
I start pacing, jaw clenched, heart split wide open. I wasn’t ready for this. But who am I kidding? I never would’ve been. Whether now or ten years from now, this conversation would’ve still left me in pieces.
“What would help you?” His voice is soft. Barely there.
I stop and look at him.
“What?” I ask, thrown off by the question.
“To heal,” he says. “From what I did. Is there anything that could help you? Is there anything that would make you hurt less?” A pause. “If you hurt me… would that help you?”
I blink. “What?”
“Would hurting me help you?” he repeats. “It helped Temperance. What she did to Bones. To the club. Would that help you?”
I stare at him, horrified. “Are you asking me to torture you?”
He shrugs. Fucking shrugs. Like it’s nothing. Like he’s talking about the weather.
And there’s no fight in his eyes. Just... resignation.
“Are you insane?” I screech, stabbing a finger in his direction. “You really think cutting you open is going to fix this? That hurting you would somehow undo what you did to me?”
“Not undo it,” he mutters, his shoulders lifting with a deep breath. “I’m not asking for forgiveness. Or pretending this would make it right. I just thought… maybe it would help. Make the memories hurt less. For you.”
I study him closely. What I see nearly takes me to my knees.
He’s not posturing. Not playing martyr. He means it. He’s offering himself up like a sacrifice. Like bleeding for me is the only thing he has left to give. And that fucking grief — that cold, bone-deep grief — spreads into my chest like rot.
“I’m already working on healing, Ghost,” I whisper, throat dry. “I don’t need to hurt you so that I can heal. I don’t need you at all.”
I pause, and let that truth settle between us. “What happened between Temperance and Bones… it was more complicated than torture or revenge. What you’re suggesting? That’s just more broken thinking. More proof that you’re still living inside that same twisted, damaged mind.”
His eyes shutter. Not even the darkness peeks through them now.
“I get it,” I say, softer. “I understand the betrayal you felt. The rage. That your whole fucking brain snapped in half at the sound of a name.”
A breath rattles out of me.
“But none of that means it hurt less.” I swallow hard. “None of that means I can look at you without hearing every cruel word. Feeling every blade you shoved into me.”
Now comes the part that nearly destroys me to say out loud. I force the words out anyway.
“It doesn’t mean that I don’t fear you.”
The silence after that is deafening.
“Because you made me fall in love with you so easily,” I whisper.
“I gave you so much power over myself. Too much. And when you decided to use it, you took control of my mind. My actions. You used my biggest weakness against me. And it was too fucking easy. You just needed a few words to do it, to turn the love I had for you into poison.”
Tears spill down my cheeks, impossible to hold back.
“You fucked me up for life, Ghost,” I let out a bitter, breathless laugh. “Do you even realize that? How could I ever fall in love again? How could I ever trust myself with that again?” My voice cracks on the words. “When I believed all of your lies for a year. A year. Such a long fucking time.”
“It wasn’t a lie, Adora,” he says, voice sharp. “Not that part.”
I look at his eyes, and it’s like gazing into the sun. The fire that I used to know all too well is blazing — feral, raw, devastating — staring back at me.
“You weren’t wrong to fall in love,” he breathes. “And you weren’t wrong to think I loved you back. Because I did. I still do.”
A pained look flashes across his face.
“But you are wrong now because you’ve got it backwards. You think the only truth I ever told you was the day I destroyed you. Us. But that was the real lie. That was me ripping my own heart out and blaming you for bleeding.”
He clenches his jaw, his teeth grinding like he’s barely holding himself together.
“I told myself I wouldn’t fall for you again. I tried to stay detached. Keep my distance. But it was impossible. You made it impossible.” His hands flex at his sides. “The lies I told? They were for me, not you. I lied to myself, to survive. To pretend I could live without you.”
His chest rises and falls, breathing ragged, eyes wild, like he’s begging me to understand.
“You say you understand what happened that day but you don’t. Not really.” His voice breaks. “It was a flashbang. A detonation. I may not have dealt with it, but I know where it came from. And you don’t know the full story. Not even close.”
He goes still. Voice dead and frayed. It’s fascinating to watch him go back to his soulless shell in less than a second.
“You think you know what made me like this? Turned me into the monster you hate? You don’t,” he murmurs.
“Prison, Ghost,” I say, voice flat. “I realize it’s prison. That’s still not an excuse.”
He closes his eyes. For a moment, he looks lost.
“No, it’s not,” he agrees. “But that word doesn’t even begin to cover it.”
Questions I’m not ready to hear the answers to start echoing in my mind. The same ones I’ve been pushing aside, because they come with too much pain and fear.
I can’t do this. Not another second of this trainwreck of a conversation. My voice cracks before I can stop it.
“It doesn’t matter. Not anymore.” The declaration is final, a coffin lid slamming shut.
“You need to move on, Ghost. I know you’ve been following me around. You’re stuck on the idea of us, but we’re not happening. Not ever again.”
I drag in a breath and drop my head, because I can’t bear to look at him anymore.
“We had our chance,” I whisper, “and it didn’t work out.
” I let out a bitter laugh that barely makes it past my lips.
“Truth is, we were always doomed to fail. And the third time around wouldn’t be any different.
Even in my books, no one gets three chances — because not even fiction can stretch that far. Make that believable.”
I take a step forward, slow, my body fighting against my brain. I pull the pen from my back pocket. I can feel the tears now. Steady, relentless rivers falling down my face. My hands shake, but I don’t falter.
I hold the pen out to him and finally lift my gaze. Look him in the eyes.
And he’s not there. Not really. Just the shadow of the man I loved. The man who once lit up my world, now burned to nothing.
“Sign the papers,” I whisper, voice thin. Shredded. “Please. Set me free. It’s the only thing you can still do right by me. The only good thing you’ve got left to give.”
He hesitates. Just for a breath. Then takes the pen from my hand, not saying a single word.
And when he signs, line after fucking line, I don’t feel the relief I thought I would. Just sorrow. A flood of it. Drowning the last remaining pieces of my heart that I was still trying to protect.
I clutch the papers to my chest and whisper a broken “thank you” before I turn around and leave him there. Alone. And hollow.