"He's not fine without you. He never says it, but he misses you. He checks his mail, asks about you… just never out loud."
That hit me. I hadn't even texted him.
After our conversation ended, I opened my laptop and began typing. I apologized for that night, explained why I did what I did, and told him about the promise Dad made me swear to. I ended it with, *If you can forgive me, just leave a message. I want to talk. I miss you.*
I took a deep breath and hit send.
Part of me believed he was too angry to reply. I was bracing for silence—until five minutes later, his reply lit up my screen:
*Took you long enough. Leaving my ID for the video call, in case you lost it.*
Ouch. That one stung.
I knew Monroe and Odon wouldn't sit quietly much longer after what I did to their son, so I didn't wait. The second his message came through, I video-called Brian.
And I told him everything. Every last detail.
"We used to be best friends, Zinnia. I can't believe you kept so much from me. When did we start drifting like this?"
He was hurt. I deserved that. I promised I'd fix it. Then I told him about Liam—and that I wasn't his biological sister.
He froze. The betrayal hit him harder than it ever hit me.
"I just need some air."
He hung up. No goodbye.
But I knew that feeling. And I understood.
Monroe had summoned a hall full of witches. Sitting at the head of the conference room, she announced, "I want you to find a cure for my son."
"What about our enemies?" one of the men asked.
"We cured my son first. Then we deal with them." She declared.
"But they're still out there. We can't sit here doing nothing just because of your son!"
Before he could finish, Monroe stood. She struck the table once—loud, sharp. Then silence.
She stared him down, not saying a word.
The man began to shake, then slumped, melting into his seat until only a wet outline and a wisp of smoke remained.
Everyone froze.
Monroe smiled coldly. Her eyes burned. "Any more questions?"
In another room, Dorian lay motionless on his bed like some twisted Sleeping Beauty. But unlike the fairytale, his body was frozen solid—unmoving, untouched by any spell or remedy they'd tried. They were desperate now, chasing anything that resembled a cure. I'd assumed he was dead. I was wrong.
The day dragged on. Evening rolled in. I didn't want to go to the party, but Liam had told Cris he'd be there, so I figured I'd see him there. And Cris—after everything she'd done for me—deserved that much. I owed her at least one night.
I pulled out a silk blue shirt, bluish-white skinny pants, and a white jacket. I can't explain it… But something about that color makes me feel alive.
Shawn's words echoed in my head: *"He doesn't deserve your tears."* That was it—I wasn't going to cry over him anymore. So I pulled myself together. Winged eyeliner, pink lipstick. I looked in the mirror and told myself, "If you're going in, go all in." I wasn't holding back tonight. Last night, the booze helped numb everything—I knew exactly what I was reaching for.
I borrowed a curler, gave myself soft beach waves, wanting to surprise Cris by showing up pretty for once. If I couldn't do it for me, I could at least do it for her. I brushed through my hair, but something felt off.
"My pendant," I muttered, mouth pursed. A thought echoed *I must have lost it in Monroe's captivity*!".
I was still thinking about it when I heard the sound of leaves rustling just outside my window.
My heart jumped. I moved toward it, but before I got there, I heard something—or someone—drop down.
I rushed to the window. Nothing. No one. And oddly enough, no wind either, but then I saw it, my pendant, sitting there on the frame of my window as if it was waiting to be found.
Panic gripped me. The fear of being kidnapped again kicked in hard. I grabbed the pendant and bolted out of my room, flying down the stairs.
Shawn was already waiting near the base of the stairs when Cris joined me. She stopped cold when she saw me.
"Hot!" she said, flashing a wicked grin as she scanned me from head to toe.
"You look amazing," I told her. She wore a fitted purple gown that hugged her all the way down to her ankles. She looked incredible, even if she seemed a little uneasy in it. But knowing her, she'd own it anyway.
We reached Shawn, who gave a playful bow. We each took one of his arms.
"Well, well, what a beautiful evening with two gorgeous ladies on either side," he said, smugly.
He tried flirting with both of us at once—didn't quite land with either.
"Are you and Ryan hanging out now? Because you're starting to sound just like him," Cris rolled her eyes.
Shawn pressed his lips together and sank into a chair. "Where's Liam?"
Cris glanced around. "No idea."
She had barely sat down when Liam jumped from behind and kissed her cheek. Then he turned to me and pulled me into a hug.
"Careful, don't put too much pressure," I said gently.
"It's fine now," he smiled at me.
We chatted for a while before Liam asked Cris for a dance. As they walked off, Shawn's eyes followed them. I saw it, so I tried to pull him back.
"What about a dance?" I asked.
He looked at me, surprised. "Really?"
I smiled. "Thank you."
He raised a brow. "For what?"
"For being there," I laughed.
He chuckled. "Pretty sure we made an oath last night, remember?"
Then I caught it—his eyes flicking to Cris again. He knew I noticed. He grinned and raised his voice over the music. "This is high school. People come and go. I just want to be the one who stays. Let's see if luck's on my side." He winked.
I was stunned. How could someone love like that—so quietly, so selflessly? She never saw him that way. Yet he was willing to stay single forever… just in case she did.
We danced for a bit, nothing too serious. Then the lights went out.
Music kept playing, but we couldn't even see our own hands. Shawn pulled out his phone. "I'll check what's going on," he said and disappeared into the dark.
Voices rose all around me, confused murmurs and a few scattered flashlights. I stood frozen. That's when I felt it—someone, close. Too close.
"Shawn?" I called out softly.
No response.
Then, out of nowhere, an arm wrapped around my waist and yanked me back so hard I crashed into someone's chest.
It was a man. His grip was iron-tight—I couldn't move. And I knew instantly this wasn't Shawn. He'd never touch me like this.
I struggled, but he only held me tighter. I could feel his face inching closer to mine. I turned my head away, refusing to let a stranger steal a kiss.
But he wasn't trying to kiss me.
Instead, he leaned in, his voice brushing against my ear—low, breathy, and disturbingly fake, like he was forcing it to sound that way… or hiding something behind it.
"He's not dead," he whispered. His breath was thick with the scent of blood, hot against my skin. "He's coming back. And this time, he'll be stronger."
"Who are you?" I asked, barely above a whisper.
No reply.
His arm released me, but I could still feel him—his presence lingering, his breath still heavy. I spun around to face him just as the lights flickered back on.
No one.
I stood alone. I turned in every direction. Nothing.
Then Shawn came running toward me, his expression shifting when he saw my face. "You okay? Want a drink?"
Maybe I imagined it. Maybe a drink would help. I nodded.
We took a few sips before loud voices drew our attention. A crowd had formed near the main gate.
Shawn and I exchanged a glance and pushed through to see what was happening.
Two girls were fighting. One had the other's hair clutched in her fists, screaming. Chaos had arrived.
"Whoa, whoa!" I jumped between them, trying to stay calm. "Can someone please tell me what's going on?"
The group had only arrived a few days before I returned. It was made up of two girls—Julie and Rose—and a boy named Elliot.
"She slept with my boyfriend, Elliot!" Julie shouted and lunged at Rose again.
I grabbed her and turned to Rose. "Is that true?"
"No!" Rose snapped. "It's not!"
"Elliot told me himself," Julie growled through clenched teeth.
"He's lying!" Rose yelled back.
Julie went for her again.
"Enough!" I snapped. "If either of you throws one more punch, I'll drag both of you to the principal!"
The words came out sharp—I actually sounded like a teacher. But it worked. They both froze.
I asked Julie when Elliot supposedly confessed.
"Fifteen minutes ago," she said.
"Think about it," I said, calming down. "What if he lied? What if that's exactly why he's not here now—because he wants you two to fight?"
They exchanged glances. The logic sank in.
"We need to find him," Julie muttered.
"What does he look like?"
"Red curly hair. Wearing a school sports jacket."
With that, we split off, scanning the halls and rooms, looking for Elliot.
After a while, we ran into Cris and Liam.
"Have you seen Elliot?" I asked.
"Not for days," Cris replied.
We filled them in quickly, and the four of us fanned out.
But after all the searching, we ended up back where we started—face to face again, with no Elliot in sight.
"He must've taken off if he was lying," I said, arms crossed.
"Why do you care? Just enjoy the evening," Cris muttered, rolling her eyes.
"You didn't see how she was yanking Rose's hair," I pushed, hoping she'd help me talk to them.
But what she said next caught me off guard.
"Maybe a friend who lies to her best friend deserves that." She turned away.
"Excuse me? I apologized for keeping things from you," I snapped.
"Maybe an apology doesn't fix everything after you've already ruined it." Her eyes locked on mine.
I clenched my fists, breathing heavier. "I shouldn't have come tonight," I said through gritted teeth, turning away.
"Of course. Run away—like always. Because it's always about *you*, right? You suffered, you cried, you smiled, you and your constant mood swings! What about me? Were you ever going to tell me about Liam?"
I was ready to walk away. But that—*that*—stopped me.
"Really? You think I'm the only one keeping secrets? What about your kiss? Don't act like I'm the only one hiding things. Were you ever going to tell me you're dating my brother?" My jaw ached from how tight I was holding it.
"I don't know, Zinnia! Maybe you deserved it!" she shouted so loud that all the room went silent.