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Chapter Five

Byron

M y limbs feel heavy, the weight of something unseen pressing down on me. Fog surrounds me, thick and suffocating. I look down—so much blood covers my hands, warm and sticky, dripping from my fingertips. The smell of iron fills the space, sharp, overwhelming, clinging to the back of my throat. My body shakes despite the warmth spreading through me, a deep, unnatural heat that does nothing to stop the cold sweat clinging to my skin. So much blood.

A woman lays before me, naked and still, her body lifeless but not at peace. Her brown hair covers her face, long strands tangled in the blood pooling around her. From where I stand, I can’t make out her features. Something inside me tells me I don’t want to. I try to move, but the thick blood pooled on the ground clings to my feet, holding me prisoner. It’s like quicksand, dragging me deeper, refusing to let go. The woman’s head lolls to the side, her neck twisting unnaturally, like something broken. Her face is a blur as my body moves away from her, as if something else is pulling me back.

With her hand now outstretched, she reaches for me… her fingers trembling, weak, slipping against the blood.

For salvation.

I look down at my bloody hands, my breath catching in my throat, my chest tightening. My hands… They feel foreign, like they don’t belong to me. Then I look back to the woman in front of me.

“By,” the soft, familiar voice croaks, cracked and raw, as if forced from a throat that’s already gone silent. “Hel—pp me.”

The familiarity of the voice sinks into me like a blade, slow and agonizing, twisting deeper the longer I listen .

“Gab—“ I whisper, my voice breaking, the sound fragile, barely there. I try to move closer, my body trembling, muscles straining as I fight against the invisible restraints that hold me in place.

“Gabby.”

She just begins to sob, a broken, choked sound that rattles inside my skull. Her hand moves to the gash on her throat, blood pouring between her fingers, dark and endless. The only noise coming from her is a silent scream, lips parted, eyes wide, but nothing escapes except the sick, wet gurgling sound of her drowning in her own blood.

That’s when I see the masked figure…

Standing just beyond the haze. Still. Watching.

I’m sure it’s Ren. It has to be.

I want it to be.

“GAbrIELA,” I shout, but my voice is breaking, shaking, unrecognizable. I scream over and over until my voice grows hoarse, until it feels like I’ve been screaming for years, until it feels like it will never be enough. My knees crumble from the weight of my pain as I collapse onto them, my hands sinking into the blood, its warmth seeping into my skin as my nails scraping against something solid beneath it. Bone.

“HELP ME,” a voice whispers from behind, so close that I feel the breath on my ear–cold and damp.

Cold hands wrap around me. I try to turn, my body tensing as the instinct to fight kicks in, but it’s useless. The hands dig in deeper, their grip bruising, unshakable.

I can’t move.

I can’t run.

They keep me staring at the body of my sister.

“HELP.”

Can she see that I can’t? That I tried? That I failed?

The realization slams into me, ripping through my stomach like a punch. My body spasms as I heave, emptying the contents of my stomach. My airway constricts as the cold hands wrap around my neck, tightening, squeezing, stealing the last of my breath.

“Breathe.”

But I can’t.

How the fuck am I supposed to breathe ?

The cold woman’s hands throw me to the ground with force, the impact jolting through my spine, the weight of her pressing down. My hands move to my throat, desperate, clawing, nails digging into my own skin as I try to break free.

I still can’t breathe.

Choking on my vomit, drowning in it, gasping for something that won’t come. Through the blur of my vision, shapes twist and shift—dark, wrong. Then I see her.

Theresita.

She kneels before me, expression unreadable, like something carved from stone. Turning my body to the side, her grip unyielding, her touch cold but sure. Then—a hard slap to my back, pain exploding across my ribs.

“brEATHE.”

I wake up spluttering, vomit spewing from my mouth and nose, burning my throat as I choke on the taste. My body shivers from the cold, a bone-deep chill that refuses to leave me. Opening my eyes, I see nothing. Nothing but darkness. The smell of piss, vomit, and mildew fills the air–thick, suffocating, making me gag all over again.

“Re—“ I begin to call for him, but the name dies on my lips.

I know it’s no use.

There’s no saving me.

He’s back.

Back to end what he started.

But at least she’s far from him.

At least…

Ren can’t hurt her.

Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I roll back onto the cold ground, naked and captured. The chill seeps into my bones, but I don’t move. A chuckle escapes past my lips—dry, humorless. If the fucker thinks this time I wasn’t prepared, he has something else coming. Let him think he’s won. Let him believe I’m broken. I might have left his studio physically, but mentally, I remained chained up. I was never truly free.

The moment I learned his body wasn’t where we left it that night and realized he was still out there, I had a feeling it would always end this way, that it was inevitable I knew I was on borrowed time. Every day that passed was just another second stolen before he came back to collect. He will finish what he started. I can feel it in my gut.

This is why I sued his estate, and got my sister as far away as I could from me… from him. She’s the only thing that matters. I wanted to be prepared for when the devil came back to drag me to hell, but this time, I refuse to go quietly. This time, I will make sure Gabby is kept safe and he’s put down for good, even if I have to sacrifice myself in the process.

My eyes begin to adjust to the darkness. I could move, crawl to the small mattress on the ground, but what’s the point? He wants to break me, but there’s nothing left to break. There’s no fear left in me, no fight for survival. I welcome death if it means keeping her safe, because that’s all I have left now.

Protecting her from falling apart.

It took me a while to get her to feel safe–to piece her back together–along with the help of the guy she’s been talking to. A good man. At least, I hope he is. With what little I know, he seems steady, strong, and hopefully, he will keep her safe and far away.

I know she must be worried that I didn’t show up, but I warned her. Told her that if I vanished, she had to trust me. That I would find my way back.

But as much as Ren had unfinished business with me, I did as well. And that’s the god’s honest truth.

Let’s see who wins this battle, because this isn’t just a fight—it’s the end. Only one of us, or maybe neither of us, will walk out of this breathing.

His obsession with me led him to my sister.

It started with me.

And it will end with me.