Page 29 of Claimed By the Mothman (Greymarket Towers #1)

N ell practically glided into the library. Her heels clicked a confident rhythm across the linoleum, her hair was still soft from the curlers she’d worn the night before, and her shoulders were back, buoyed by something dangerously close to self-esteem.

“You’re glowing ,” Goldie said suspiciously from behind the front desk.

“I’m allowed to glow,” Nell replied, breezing past with a swing of her hips. “I had a great time at the potluck. The lemonade had teeth, no one caused a metaphysical destabilization, and I didn’t drink myself stupid from the spiked punch bowl.”

Goldie narrowed her eyes. “You’re deflecting.”

“Oh, I’m not deflecting,” Nell said sweetly. “ You’re deflecting. How was the end of your night? Did Ezra’s shirt somehow come unbuttoned? Were mystic rites invoked?”

Goldie’s smile was feline and unapologetic. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Nell cackled and sat down at her desk. Opening her planner, she began scribbling tasks for the day with more energy than she’d felt in weeks. Programming notes. RSVPs for the adult education series. An alert about next month’s blood drive. Her pen flowed easily across the page.

Ping. Her phone buzzed against the corner of her desk, jerking her out of her reverie. Then she shook her head and bent back over her planner.

Ping. Ping.

Ping ping ping.

She frowned slightly. Curiously, she flipped the phone over. Her thumb hovered, then tapped the screen.

A group chat had sprung back to life—college friends she barely spoke to anymore. At the top of the flurry was a screenshot from Facebook.

Edward. Smiling, slimmer, happier. Wearing a soft linen shirt and standing on the beach behind Elinore. One hand cradled a visible swell beneath her dress. Her other hand? Wearing a diamond.

He proposed!!! the caption read. Baby and I both said yes ????

Nell’s brain didn’t quite know what to do. Her vision tunneled, narrowing on the photo like it might blink away if she stared hard enough.

But he hates the beach, she thought, stupidly. He’d loathed sand between his toes. Said the ocean smelled like fish rot and sunscreen.

A knock broke the silence. Goldie’s voice followed, cheerful and innocent: “Hey, lunch order’s going out. You want—”

She stopped.

Nell placed the phone screen-down, like she was putting in time-out.

Goldie’s voice dropped. “Everything okay?”

Nell forced her mouth into a smile. She didn’t trust herself to look at Goldie. “Peanut noodles, please.”

“You sure?”

“Yep.” Her voice sparkled like broken glass. “I’ve got a lot to do.”

There was a long pause, then Goldie quietly walked away.

Nell didn’t look at her phone again for the rest of the day.

—

The elevator doors wheezed open with their usual sluggish groan.

Nell stepped out, shoes in one hand, the other gripping her tote like a lifeline. Her hair clung to the back of her neck, her blouse wilted from the weight of a day she hadn’t seen coming.

She got to the door of her apartment and looked down. Her heart lurched. Another offering lay there: Dried rose petals, a smooth piece of amber, and a single white feather.

Her hands shook as she reached for them. Her throat was already closing.

“Hello, Sig,” she said aloud, voice barely audible.

A shadow shifted. “Hello, Nell.”

She flinched so hard she nearly dropped the bundle. He was standing near the end of the hallway, as still and silent as the wallpaper. His presence wasn’t loud—it never was—but it filled the space.

The bundle in her hands suddenly felt like a bomb.

“I heard your heartbreak,” he said gently, “and thought you might need comfort. But I do not always know how to give it.”

He moved another step forward with a tiny click in his throat. “I wish to ease your pain. Would you prefer food? A walk? Would you like to speak, or sit in silence, or—”

His antennae twitched, uncertain. “I will do what you ask. Just…tell me how to help.”

She looked up at this impossible, watchful, too-gentle creature, and her chest cracked.

Her mouth opened. “I can’t—this is—”

The words fractured mid-air. She couldn’t breathe around them. He was looking at her like she was made of stars. Like she mattered. Like this mattered.

And all she could see was the diamond on Elinore’s hand. The gentle swell of her stomach. The future Nell had once imagined for herself, now belonging to someone else.

She stumbled back a step, her heart thudding in her throat. The hallway spun. One hand flew to her temple as if she could squeeze out the pressure building behind her eyes.

“I can’t do this,” she gasped.

The building shuddered. Nell reeled as something inside her snapped.

Sig staggered. A glow flared at his chest—brilliant, shivering, wrong . It flickered like a candle caught in a wind. And his face—

She could hardly bear to look at it, as something akin to despair crept across his features.

“I understand,” he said softly.

She gasped, realization knifing through her. “No—”

“I hear your choice. And I accept it.”

“ No, wait— ”

But he had already closed his eyes. His expression was too calm. Too still. Like someone standing at the edge of a storm with their arms flung open wide to welcome the devastation.

“I surrender the spark between,” he whispered. “I revoke the name etched in me.”

A tremor rippled through the hallway. The walls groaned softly.

“I unbind the vow that never reached bloom.”

Shimmering wisps began to unspool from his skin, hair-thin and luminous, rising like smoke into the still air.

Nell’s vision blurred. “Sig, stop —please—”

“I dissolve the bond before it bears weight,” he said, and now his voice was wrong, thin as paper and fracturing. His antennae twitched, curling inward in distress.

“I free her. I unname what never was.”

“No,” she sobbed, stumbling forward. “No—no—you don’t get to do that— ”

He looked sorrow pooling in his ruby eyes. “I let go.”

“ SIG! ” The scream tore out of her like it had claws and had waited years to find its way free. She launched forward, catching him by the forearms. His skin burned beneath her palms, and wisps continued to drift up from his body, trailing upward like the ash form a dying fire.

“I’m not saying no,” she gasped. “I’m not— Sig, I’m not saying no!”

The opal ring on her finger flared white-hot, then red. Pain seared her knuckle, but she didn’t let go. Her fingers clawed tighter around his arms. “I just need— gods, I just need a second—I need— it’s not rejection! ”

He blinked at her. Once. Slow.

“No,” she whispered. Then louder: “ No. ” Her voice cracked with fury. “ Don’t you dare do this. ”

She slammed her body against his like she could anchor him there with bone and breath and rage alone. Her arms wrapped around him, fierce and unrelenting.

“I didn’t say no,” she chanted against his chest. “I didn’t say no. I didn’t say no. ”

For a moment, everything inside her screamed—and then—

Pulse. A single, soft throb.

The threads lingering around him paused and then, one by one, they spiraled downward and folded themselves back into him, re-threading into skin and sternum and soul.

Tears poured down Nell’s cheeks and fell silently into his shirt. She stayed there, arms locked around him, refusing to let go.

He shuddered. Breathed.

The bond righted. Held. For a breath. And then another.

Finally, Sig stirred, like someone reassembling themselves from scattered pieces.

“The bond…” His voice cracked. “It does not understand nuance.”

A half-sob, half-laugh tore loose from Nell’s chest. “Yeah,” she managed. “I figured that out pretty quickly.”

He looked down at her, his face still wrinkled with the traces of pain that was slowly starting to ease.

“I will try,” he said quietly, “to teach it. To wait. To listen better next time.”

She swallowed, chest hitching. “I’m so sorry, Sig.”

His clawed hand rose and cupped her cheek with exquisite care. “I know,” he murmured.

Her gaze dropped to his lips. Just for a second. Then flicked away again.

Somewhere beneath their feet, behind the walls, or in the marrow of Greymarket Towers themselves, a deeper current stirred. And it, too, chose to wait.