“Get off of me!” I jerk away from her, but I can’t move the chair. Can’t stand up. Can’t get free. “Get the fuck off of me! You’re not mine. I don’t want you.”
Silence.
I hold my breath, sure I can still feel her. But then I open my eyes, and there’s nothing.
It wasn’t real. She wasn’t real.
This isn’t real.
It’s Noctem, I remind myself.
I’m tripping. This is the lesson. This is my teacher. I’m okay. Sid is okay.
Ella...
My eyes widen as a girl emerges from behind the Sigil. Pale legs beneath a black skirt, a white collared shirt, unbuttoned to just above her breasts.
Long red hair down around her shoulders, green eyes lined with black, her hands behind her back as she peeks up shyly at me through her lashes.
But there’s that devilish smirk on her face reminding me that she’s not shy.
Ella Christian is anything but shy.
She’s angry.
She’s still so angry at me for so many things.
And she knows the worst thing I’ve ever done.
But she isn’t real either.
She takes a step toward me.
“Hello, Mavy.”
I smile at her ghost. “That’s not my name, baby.”
Her freckles seem so real, so her, so perfectly placed that for one moment, my heart aches. Maybe this isn’t her ghost. Maybe she truly forgives me. Maybe this battle is over. Maybe she’s come to free me, and that’s my lesson.
The dark part of my heart whispers something else, too: Maybe she killed Ria. Maybe she took care of that for me, too.
“I know, handsome,” she says, coming closer.
I spread my thighs, cocking my head. “Come sit with me.” This ghost I can enjoy.
She glances down at my lap, at my erection bulging against my pants.
And then she brings her hand from behind her back.
She’s holding a knife.
My side aches at the sight of it. “Not this shit again, Ella, baby.”
But ghosts can’t stab me. Hallucinations can’t hold real blades.
“I’m going to free you,” she says seriously, and then she’s close enough for me to touch her. If I wasn’t tied to the fucking chair. “I’m going to free you, Mavy, and then we’re going to run.”
I smile at her, watch as she brings the blade underneath the rope around my wrists. The steel is cold on my skin, and she angles it, sawing at my binds.
“We can’t run, you beautiful, beautiful girl.”
She shoots me a glare, but I keep talking as she keeps working. The cold of the knife feels so real. Her hand pressed against mine to steady herself does too.
“We can’t leave until this is over.”
“It’s over when I say it’s over, and I say it’s over now, Mavy.”
The rope frays and she jerks the blade up, releasing one bind. She makes quick work of it around my wrist, unwinding it and setting me free. I don’t move my hand, just glance at the rope burn on my wrist.
It looks so real.
The release...it feels so real.
“I need to tell you something, Ella.” My voice is hoarse. “I need to tell you something important.”
She looks at me warily but slides the knife under the binds of my other hand.
“I need to tell you...” I swallow, my throat dry. But this is her ghost. This is my trip. I can tell her the truth. I can set myself free. “I think I lied to you.”
She smiles, eyes still downcast. “Oh, I wouldn’t doubt that, Mavy Boy.”
I snort. “I’m not a boy.”
She keeps sawing away at the rope. “Every guy I like is a boy to me.”
I frown. I don’t like the way she phrased that. I tell her so.
She shakes her head. “I’ve only ever called one other man a boy,” she admits.
I tense. “Who?”
“Con,” she says simply, and brings the knife up, cutting through the fraying rope. She drops the blade with a clatter, hands on her hips. “Now tell me, before we get out of here. What is it you wanted to say?”
I rotate my wrists, marveling at how real freedom feels, even if it’s only in my head. Or maybe that’s the best kind.
I meet Ella’s green eyes, a light blue circle around her pupils. God she’s beautiful. I didn’t tell her nearly enough.
“I think I love you, too.”
I don’t know what I expect her to do. Maybe kiss me. Maybe climb into my lap. Maybe say it back.
Whatever it is, I don’t expect her to fucking slap me so hard my ears ring. I blink, sitting up straighter.
And when I blink, everything…changes.
I’m still in a chair, and my wrists are still free, and there’s still a sigil.
And Ella is still in the room.
But so is someone else.
Two other people, actually.
My father, and…Ria.
Ella is still in the black skirt, the white shirt, and so is Ria. Like schoolgirls. My father is all in black as he stands in front of the sigil.
I go to stand to my feet, my throat so fucking dry I can’t speak anymore, not like I was when Ella was freeing me.
I glance at her as I’m halfway up, my hands supporting my weight against the arms of the chair.
She doesn’t have a knife. Was she freeing me?
She has tears in her eyes. Tracking down her beautiful face.
And Ria… Ria is here.
“Don’t,” my father warns me, his eyes hard on mine. “Sit back down, Maverick, or this won’t end well for you.”
And then I see it. What I didn’t want to see. What I don’t want to be real.
This isn’t real.
My father has a gun in his hand and he’s holding it to Ria’s temple. She’s on her knees, her lip trembling, eyes closed.
Ella is…Ella is free. But she’s standing between us. My father could shoot any of us so, so easily.
My jaw clenches. I want to speak, I want to scream, I want to rip my fucking hair out but…
My father’s blue eyes are focused on mine, a smile playing on his lips. His hair is trimmed, as if he got it cut just for this.
“You have a choice to make, Maverick.”
My eyes shoot from Ria to Ella, then back to my father. I stay sitting, even though it’s killing me. Even though my fists are clenched so hard my nails are digging into my skin.
“Polygamy is, unfortunately, not sanctioned by the 6.” He sighs, as if that’s a thing that upsets him. He rolls his eyes toward the ceiling, shrugging, the gun held steady to Ria’s head.
She still has her eyes closed, her face screwed up tight.
Where has she been all this time? Why didn’t she run? Stupid, stupid girl.
But maybe she did run. Maybe they got her as soon as she left my house.
Stupid, violent boy.
“And as you’ve told both of these girls far, far too much, I’m going to need you to tell me which one to shoot.”
I look at Ella. Her eyes are wide, her hands fisted in the hem of her skirt, like she wants to come to me. Like it’s taking all of her willpower to stay where she is.
“Ella,” I ask her, my throat like sandpaper with every word, “is this real?”
She smiles at me, but it’s sad. I watch her throat bob as she swallows, sucking in her bottom lip and nodding. “Yes, baby.”