I sink onto the edge of my bed, my bag sliding from my shoulder to the floor with a dull thud. The ghost of his touch still burns against my cheek, colliding with the stubborn defiance that won't stop humming in my veins.
Alone at last—but the silence doesn't taste like freedom. It tastes like a battle I'm not sure I've won.
The apartment feels too still once he's gone, every tick of the clock a reminder of his absence. I curl beneath my sheets, but sleep doesn't come easily. Each sound outside makes me flinch—was that one of Grayson's men shifting on the sidewalk, or just the city breathing under its own weight? The shadows stretch long against the walls, and no matter how many times I tell myself I'm safe, my body doesn't believe it.
When I close my eyes, I see Grayson's gaze—unyielding, certain—the weight of a bond he swears is real pressing down on me.
When I force them open again, it's David I see instead. His smile, soft and steady. Easy. Normal.
My chest aches beneath the tug-of-war between them, keeping me turning and twisting until exhaustion drags me under.
Morning filters weakly through the blinds, striping the floor in pale sunlight. My phone buzzes on the nightstand, too loud against the hush. I fumble for it, my eyes gritty with lack of rest.
David's name lights up the screen, his message simple, sweet.
Good morning :)
Still on for our date in the park today?
The tightness clenched in my chest softens, a smile tugging despite everything. For a fragile second, the bond, the coven, the shadows—fade. Normal. Safe. A possibility I don't want to let go of.
My fingers hover only a second before I start typing back, a smile tugging at my lips.
Good morning :) Yes, I'll be there. Can't wait.
Hitting send feels like dropping a stone I didn't realize I was carrying. Tension unspools inside me, replaced with the flutter of anticipation.
Normal. Safe. David.
I peel myself out of bed and head straight to the shower. The hot water pounds over me, washing away the restlessness of the night, the lingering chill of Grayson's presence, the whispers of the coven. For a few minutes, it's just steam, heat, and the steady rhythm of water.
When I step out, my skin is flushed, my hair damp and clinging to my shoulders. I wrap up quickly, then stand in front of the mirror with the blow dryer in hand. The hum fills the bathroom as I coax each strand smooth, leaving it to fall like silk down my back.
Next, makeup—light but polished. A sweep of liner to make my eyes pop, mascara to lengthen my lashes, and a soft tint to my lips. When I step back, the reflection staring back looks brighter, steadier—like someone holding onto the promise of something good.
Only then do I slip into the black lace dress tucked near the back of my closet. It's delicate yet confident, fitted at the waist, flaring slightly at the hem. Paired with sheer black stockings, it feels like armor in its own way—soft but strong. I fasten a thin chain necklace with a spider pendant at my throat, put in my dangly spiderweb earrings, and slide a spiked bracelet onto my wrist.
When I glance in the mirror, I startle at the sight: not the girl haunted by covens and whispered promises, but someone ready for a date in the park with a guy who makes her laugh.
And for now—that's exactly who I want to be.
By the time I reach the park, the late morning sun filters down through the trees, scattering gold across the grass. My pulse won't settle—every step I take only winds me tighter with nerves and anticipation. I smooth the hem of my dress for the hundredth time, tug at the edge of my sleeve, check the fall of my hair in the screen of my phone before shoving it back into my bag.
Then I see him.
David stands near the path, hands in his pockets, waiting. He's in a dark blue tee shirt that fits just right across his lean frame, paired with black jeans and his hair tucked casually behind his ears. Simple, effortless—and somehow it makes him look even more handsome.
My chest squeezes, the nerves melting into something warmer. He lifts his head, spots me, and that easy smile spreads across his face—the one that feels like sunlight after days of storm.
God, he looks so normal. So safe. So David.
I draw a breath, clutching the strap of my bag tighter as I walk toward him, my steps light but unsteady, every part of me buzzing with anticipation.
"Hey, you made it," David says, his grin widening as I get closer.
"Of course I did." I laugh, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. "You think I'd pass up fresh air and sunshine?"
He tilts his head, eyes scanning me with a warmth that makes my stomach flutter. "Pretty sure the sunshine's jealous right now."
I roll my eyes, but I can't stop the smile tugging at my lips. "That was terrible."
"Terribly smooth," he counters, his voice playful. He shifts just enough to fall into step beside me as we head down the path.
"So, what's the plan? Walk, sit, people-watch? Or do we just keep wandering until you get tired of me?"
"Hmm." I tap my finger against my chin in mock thought. "People-watching sounds dangerous. I'd probably end up making up stories for them, and then you'd never hear the end of it."
"Good," he says easily. "I like your stories."
The warmth in his tone lingers, tugging the tension out of me, and for the first time in what feels like days, I let myself relax. The park hums with life—kids darting between trees, a dog barking as it chases a frisbee, couples stretched out on the grass. It feels ordinary, safe, like stepping into the life I've been craving.
When he glances down at me again, his smile softer now, I can't help but laugh. "What?"
"Nothing." His eyes crinkle a little at the corners. "Just glad you're here."
David reaches out suddenly, plucking a dandelion from the edge of the path and twirling it between his fingers.
He offers it to me with mock seriousness. "For you. A token of my undying affection."
I snort, taking it from him and holding it up. "Wow. You really went all out."
"Only the best," he says, and his grin is so wide, so genuine, it makes me laugh.
We wander further into the park, the sun warm on my shoulders, our conversation flowing as easily as our steps. He tells me about a ridiculous project he had to do this week, I tell him about Sasha's latest antics at the bar, and we trade jokes, teasing each other in a way that seems so natural. It's effortless—light, normal. Exactly what I've been wanting.
And yet… Every now and then, when he laughs and my chest swells with affection, there's a dull throb underneath it—the echo of something sharper, heavier. The memory of Grayson's eyes burning into mine, the way his presence filled every inch of space until I couldn't breathe without him.
I shove it down. Smile wider at David. Make another joke. Because here, in this sunlit park, I should be free of that pull.
But I'm not.
The bond lingers at the edges of me like a bruise I can't stop pressing, a tether tugging no matter how far I run. And it bothers me—God, it bothers me—because I want this. David, the laughter, the dandelions and sunshine. The normalcy.
So I laugh a little louder, lean a little closer to him, determined to drown out the ache Grayson left behind.
For now, I let David's warmth wrap around me, even as the shadows whisper at the edges of my thoughts.
We find a sun-marked spot beneath a sprawling oak tree, its leaves rustling softly overhead, and David shakes out a soft plaid blanket. I kick off my boot and settle onto the fabric, smooth and cool against my skin. David sinks down beside me, his leg brushing mine as he starts unpacking the basket he brought—sandwiches, fruit, a bottle of sparkling water.
"Wow," I murmur, taking in the spread. "You really thought of everything."
He grins, handing me a sandwich wrapped in wax paper. "Only the best for you, Cass."
I take a bite, the fresh bread and sharp cheese a perfect complement to the crispness of the apple slices. We eat in companionable silence, the park stretching out around us, a bubble of normalcy in a world gone mad.
David leans over suddenly, his lips brushing my cheek, stealing a quick kiss before pulling back with a smile. I feel the heat rise in my face, my heart skipping a beat.
"You had a little mustard," he teases, eyes twinkling. I roll my eyes, but I can't hide my smile, the easy warmth spreading through my chest.
We trade bites and stories, the minutes stretching and blurring like watercolors. Each brush of his hand, each shared glance, feels like a promise—a whisper of something sweet and uncomplicated.
Every now and then, he leans in again, his lips finding mine for a brief, sparkling moment before the world rushes back in. The taste of strawberries lingers, the echo of his smile imprinted on my skin.
Here, in the dappled sunlight, with David's laughter twining with mine and the taste of simple, perfect joy on my tongue, I can almost forget the shadows that haunt me.
Almost.