I went to see Winston one last time. His family wasn't poor, and his parents loved him dearly. He wouldn't be alone after I left.
The doctor said he'd wake up in a couple of days. I stood by his hospital bed and bent down. My fingertips traced his features, one by one—from his eyes all the way down to his lips.
Finally, I pressed a kiss to his forehead. "I'm sorry... I have to go."
I pressed two fingers together, tips pointing downward. A wisp of white smoke drifted into Winston's body.
He was free. To keep him from being bound to anyone else in the future, I'd searched through ancient texts and finally found a way to break a incubus's bond.
Money made the world go round. I went abroad to study.
Winston contacted me countless times—calling from different numbers—but I ruthlessly bloc
