The attic was silent, too silent.
Alpha Ethan sat slumped against the wall, pale and sweating, still clutching the recorder like it was the last thing tying him to reality.
“You’re not afraid I’ll destroy this?” he rasped.
“You can,” I said calmly. “But you’ll never erase the second copy. Or the third.”
He closed his eyes. “Was it painful? When she died?”
I didn’t answer.
“She wore white,” he murmured. “That day…”
“Don’t grieve her in front of me,” I snapped.
“You’re not her.”
“Then why chain me where she died?”
He didn’t answer. Just leaned forward and collapsed against my shoulder.
“Emily… don’t go…”
His whisper was feverish, dreamlike, his hand gripping my clothes as if trying to anchor himself in a memory.
“I’ll protect you this time. I’ll marry you… even if it means takin
