Page 104 of The Blood we Crave: Part Two

When I moved in and went snooping, naturally, I found his collection of music sheets. One specifically with my name written across the top, but mine was the only one that was incomplete.

Composing music is a trophy, is what he’d told me when I asked about it. He talked about how he composes these concertos, traditionally written for a soloist and usually accompanied by an orchestra. It’s made up of three parts, and each kill gets one concerto.

I’d been the first piece of music he’d ever created but the only one he’d never finished.

Maybe that was because fate knew what we didn’t.

That he was never meant to kill me that night like his father had requested him to do. He’d never be able to finish the song until he could do what he was truly meant to do.

Love me.

I brush a few pieces of his hair out of his eyes, just because I can, smiling because of how complete I feel. How free.

“I wanted it to sound like mourning because a part of you died the night we met.” He presses his forehead to mine, letting me breathe him in. “Thank you for loving me with what remained.”

“Thank you for letting me be your ghost. For seeing me,” I tell him. “I can’t wait to haunt you for the rest of our lives and the ones after that.”

I wish I could go back and tell the little girl who hid in the closet that one day, she wouldn’t feel so alone. That one day, the boy with icy eyes and frosted hair would stay. He would wake up every day and choose to love her despite all he’d been through.

We finally got our grim fairy tale. Our happily ever after.

The ghost and the boy who was winter.

Thatcher

“Is that it?”

Rook slams the trunk of the car down with excessive force, sweat gleaming on his forehead.

“It fucking better be,” he grunts, resting his back against the car when he’s done loading Sage’s bags.

“We have to talk every day,” Sage mutters, wrapping her arms around Briar in a tight embrace.

“Seattle is only a plane ride away from LA,” Briar replies.

Lyra removes herself from my side, and my cold body misses her warmth immediately.

“Don’t forget about me. Monthly Loner Society meetings on Zoom.”

“Never,” they respond together as they pull her into their arms, all three of them a tangle of limbs.

My sourness towards thing one and thing two, otherwise known as Briar and Sage, had dwindled a little. I’m still not a fan of anyone who poses a threat to the guys but had learned to be a little more accepting.

I had no choice when they spent weekends at my house.

I look away from them, giving Lyra a moment with her friends. I find Alistair already staring at me.

“If any of you try to hug me,” I warn, glancing at each of them, “I will not be held responsible for my actions.”

“No one wants to touch your prickly ass.” Rook pushes off the car, shoving me with his hand. “You’re a fucking cactus.”

We stand at our cars, having just left The Peak for the last time as a group in, well, I’m not sure how long it will be when we are all together again at a place that holds so many memories.

I remember when we were kids coming to The Peak. Setting off illegal fireworks, the first time Rosemary showed up, the time Alistair threatened to sling Rook over the edge.

This is our spot, and it will stay that way.

Though they leave this place, the bond remains. We are an interwoven web of history—you can’t pluck one string without touching another. Our lives, our futures, they are eternally connected.