I didn’t kill my parents.

The thought pulsed through my mind as Devlin recounted the file, each word hammering against my ribs. Relief and grief crashed through me in relentless waves, a storm surging in my chest.

I didn’t kill my parents. But someone else did.

Devlin was convinced it was Rowan. Shadows pulsed around the room, twisting up the walls before folding back over him like living ink.

“It wasn’t Rowan,” I said firmly. “It couldn’t have been.”

Devlin exhaled sharply. “Jen, it makes sense. Why else would he do all this? Why would he push these ridiculous theories that can’t be disproven? And he clearly hasn’t let go of his obsession with you.”

I shook my head. “Rowan wasn’t obsessed with me, Devlin. He was enthralled by my succubus touch.”

Devlin’s mouth opened, then snapped shut, his brows pulling together.

I huffed, twisting the sleeve of my hoodie.

“I should have told you sooner that my dad was an incubus, that I’m part succubus.

But when I first got here, I didn’t want to talk about anything that would lead to questions about my parents or what happened.

And after that... there just never seemed to be a right time.

But the fact is, that summer Rowan had an innocent crush on me.

I didn’t realize he’d been affected by my touch until it was too late.

He hid it well—until it was buried deep.

” I met Devlin’s gaze, willing him to understand.

“But it would have worn off after a few weeks of staying away from me. That’s how it works.

Your theory doesn’t explain why he’d still be fixated now.

Why he’s doing all this. Or his theories. ”

Devlin remained silent, but I could feel his resistance crackling in the air.

“Rowan coming up with ridiculous theories? That, I believe.” I let out a dry, humorless laugh, recalling the way he’d theorized that he’d spent the summer stalking me—his part succubus friend—because he might have been possessed by a ghost, the thought of falling influence to my succubus touch not even on his radar.

“But masterminding the murder of my parents? Implanting fake memories in my head? Or, I dunno, hypnotizing me to do it? Manipulating me into confessing? No.” I shook my head. “That, I can’t believe.”

Devlin’s expression darkened, his brows furrowing. His eyes flickered shut, his lids twitching as if mentally combing through the files again, searching for something he might have missed.

Devlin’s eyes snapped to mine. “The candy,” he said.

“What?”

“You love candy. What better way for a stalker to slip you a memory-altering potion than in a box of your favorite obsession? The wrappers were scattered all over your bed. You’d been eating them right before you supposedly cut the brakes.”

I stilled. Dark chocolate for dark thoughts.

Could they have been spiked? Had I only thought I cut the brakes?

“And it was Rowan who sent them,” Devlin pressed.

I frowned, searching my memory. My parents had been hours late, and I’d been starving—too angry to touch the dinner I’d been forced to cook, the dinner that had gone cold.

I’d been lying in bed when there was a knock at the door.

A few moments later, BooDini had floated into my room with the box of chocolates.

I’d assumed they were from Rowan. He’d been sending me all sorts of weird crap that summer, which, in hindsight, had been a pretty big clue that he’d fallen under my succubus touch.

At that point, my dad had already realized what had happened, and while I didn’t know what he had done to Rowan, Dad had assured me that it was enough to keep him away.

But... Dad had been wrong. Because... yeah, while there was no note, the chocolates were definitely from Rowan.

“It... might not have been Rowan,” I said carefully. “There was no note.”

Devlin arched a brow, his expression all but screaming: Who else would send you a heart-shaped box of chocolates if not your stalker?

I swallowed hard.

Rowan was my friend.

“I’ll just call him, shall I?” I said, pulling out my phone.

Devlin folded his arms, shadows curling around him. “People can lie on the spot, Jen.”

I rolled my eyes but pulled up Rowan’s number anyway. The call rang three times before the screen filled with his familiar face.

“Jenny!” Rowan’s face broke into a relieved grin. “I’m so glad you called.”

A voice piped up in the background. “Dad! Dad! Auntie Brooke is here!”

Wait. Rowan had a kid? I wasn’t sure why it surprised me—he did wear a marital ring in his nose, after all.

Rowan glanced beyond the camera. “Well, go and let her in!” He watched for a moment, then his attention shifted back to me. “Sorry about that, Jenny. Brooke’s here to babysit, and it’s a madhouse. We should catch up sometime, like the old days.”

The old days. Back when our biggest problems were dodging Rowan’s relentless fangirls, keeping an eye on Brooke whenever she slipped out of her controlling father’s grasp, and me daydreaming about summoning my fated mate.

Current times? Rowan was married with kids. Brooke was out there asking strangers to marry her. And I was a convicted criminal fresh out of prison.

“Sure,” I said, trying not to react as Devlin’s shadows thickened, swirling through the room like storm clouds.

Rowan must have noticed, because his gaze flickered on the screen. “You still got that incubus demon hanging around?”

“Devlin? Yeah, he’s still here.” I watched Rowan’s face carefully, searching for any flicker of animosity.

Instead, he grinned. “So, you finally summoned him, then?”

The shadows in the room collapsed . Devlin went rigid, his face draining of color even as he forced a scowl.

Shit. Yeah, I probably should have mentioned that my fated mate was supposed to be an incubus demon I could summon when I was ready.

I cleared my throat. “Uh, no, actually. He was already renting the cabin when I got here.”

Rowan’s brows furrowed. “I thought you said you could summon him on Samhain—”

“Listen, Rowan,” I cut in quickly. I glanced at Devlin, who was suddenly very interested in staring at anything that wasn’t me. “I’m calling about the files.”

Before Rowan could respond, a voice called from off-screen. “Rowan, are you on the phone with Jenny?” A second later, Brooke popped into view, her usual dazzling smile in place. “Hey, girl!”

“Hey, Brooke,” I said, forcing a smile. “We were just talking about—”

“Dad!” a shrill voice called. “Auntie Brooke brought cookies!”

Rowan pressed his lips into a thin line before side-eyeing Brooke. “Well, Auntie Brooke is about to learn why sugar and a five-year-old orc don’t mix.”

Before Brooke could react, a green blur shot across the screen. A miniature Rowan launched himself between them, grinning widely as cookie crumbs sprayed in every direction.

“Dad! Dad! Dad!” Rowan’s kid was the epitome of cuteness as he bounced up and down, his excitement practically vibrating through the screen.

Rowan cast Brooke a pointed glare and her smile faltered.

“Dad!”

“Theo,” Rowan said with a sigh. “What is it?”

Theo jabbed a fist—still clutching a half-eaten cookie—toward the camera. “Is that Aunt Jenny?” he asked. Before I could even confirm, he beamed. “Hi, Aunt Jenny! Are you coming over to babysit me too?”

Brooke made a valiant attempt to retrieve the cookie, but Theo expertly dodged, shoving the rest into his mouth. “Dad says you live in a haunted house with a real-life ghost !” he added, crumbs spraying across the screen.

“Uh... yeah, I do,” I said, watching the chaos unfold. This was hands down the most overwhelming video call of my life.

“That’s so cool!” Theo practically squealed. “I want a ghost to live in my house! Dad, do you think—”

“Theo,” Rowan interrupted, exhaling hard, “why don’t you go find your new toy to show Auntie Brooke?”

Theo gasped, snapping his head toward Brooke. His entire face lit up. “You’re gonna love it, Auntie Brooke! We’re gonna have so much fun tonight!”

And then, just like that, he launched himself out of frame.

Rowan let out a heavy sigh. “Yes. Auntie Brooke is in for a fun evening.”

Brooke blinked, her face blank with realization. “I have made a terrible mistake.”

I cleared my throat. “Um, guys? The files?”

“Oh, right!” Rowan snapped his fingers. “Jenny, there were just so many inconsistencies. Nothing adds up.”

Beside me, Devlin, who had clearly run out of patience with the spiraling conversation, shuffled closer. His presence darkened the screen as his shadows curled around us. “Like the box of candy?” he said, venom dripping from his words.

“Hiya, Devie!” Brooke chirped, waving.

Devlin barely acknowledged her with a stiff nod before fixing his glare on Rowan.

“Candy?” Rowan echoed, his brow furrowing.

“Yes,” Devlin pressed. “The candy you left her. The ones she was eating right before everything happened. The chocolates that were probably spiked .”

A cold weight settled in my stomach. “Yeah, Rowan. Someone left me a heart-shaped box of chocolates that night, and, I mean... with everything that happened that summer...”

“It wasn’t Rowan,” Brooke cut in. “He wasn’t even here.”

Devlin’s sharp gaze flicked to me before settling on Rowan, waiting for an explanation.

Rowan scratched the back of his braid, looking sheepish.

“Yeah... A few days before that night, your dad caught me in your room—uh, sorry again, Jenny—and after scaring the life out of me, he personally marched me all the way home to tell my parents.” He let out a dry laugh.

“My mom was mortified. She sent me straight to my aunt’s across the country for the rest of the summer. ”

Brooke nodded. “Yep. I video-called him multiple times a day to check in. He was there the whole time.”

Devlin’s scowl deepened. His shadows, however, stilled.

“The chocolates would’ve been a perfect way to spike you, though, Jenny,” Rowan said thoughtfully, running a hand over his chin.

Before I could respond, a crash sounded from somewhere off-screen.

“Dad!” Theo shrieked, immediately followed by another round of shattering noises.

Brooke flinched. “Oh, Goddess.” She sent me a quick wave before sprinting toward the disaster zone.

Rowan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Jenny, I have to go before Theo levels the entire house. But if you’re free tomorrow, we should meet up and go over the chocolate theory.”

I nodded. “Uh, yeah. That’d be good. See you tomorrow.”

Another crash echoed through the call. Rowan winced. “Bye,” he said hurriedly before the screen clicked off.

I turned to Devlin, arms crossed. “Told you it wasn’t Rowan.”

Devlin scowled, clearly not convinced. “Maybe,” he muttered. “Or he could’ve coerced someone else to do it.”

I let out an exasperated breath. “Who, Devlin? And why ?”

He dragged a hand through his hair. “I don’t know, Jen. His parents, maybe? He said his mom was mortified. Or maybe Brooke’s in on it too.”

I shot him a flat look. “Your theories are getting just as ridiculous as Rowan’s. Be honest—are you blaming him because you actually think he’s guilty or because you’re jealous?”

Devlin let out a sharp, humorless laugh, his features softening as he reached for me. His fingers skimmed my cheek before he cupped it fully, tilting my face toward his. “He could never take my mate—” Devlin froze. “ Roommate ,” he corrected quickly.

The color drained from his face, only to be replaced with a deep, mortified flush. His hand dropped away as if I’d burned him. In the next breath, he launched himself off the bed, suddenly consumed with gathering the police files as though his life depended on it.

It took a painfully long moment for his words to register.

Mate .

He called me his mate.

But... that wasn’t possible. I hadn’t summoned him. He was just some random incubus who happened to be renting my cabin. And yeah, sure, maybe I had fallen hopelessly in love with him over the last few days, but—

He couldn’t be my mate.

I didn’t summon him.

“Jen—” Devlin’s voice was barely above a whisper, his amber eyes pleading. “I didn’t mean to—”

Before he could finish, BooDini blustered into the room.

Its sheeted form was slumped, its eyes hollow and sorrowful.

It glided toward me, its small, weightless hands clutching at its chest before reaching out and placing a gentle hand on my shoulder.

Then, slowly, it pointed toward the living room.

The room fell deathly silent.

I strained my ears. A soft sound drifted through the air—fragile, fractured, barely there.

Someone was crying.