Ride For Me, Die For Me.

Chapter 30: What We Hold

Waiya’s POV

The kitchen eventually quieted. Mama was the first to excuse herself, rubbing her temples and muttering about needing sleep. Nyla dragged Lily off by the wrist, whispering something about “giving them space.” Granny lingered in the corner, studying us like we were a riddle she was still piecing together. But even she knew when to step back.

Before she left, she paused by me, fingers brushing over my shoulder. “Get some rest. You both still have more to face.”

Then it was just us.

The silence between us wasn’t awkward — just full. Heavy with the things we hadn’t had time to say, weighted with gratitude, guilt, and something tender neither of us dared name yet.

I looked down at my side. The scar still glowed faintly under my skin, no longer draining but humming, like a sleeping thing. I touched it absentmindedly, and Justin’s eyes followed the motion.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low and rough.

“I don’t know what okay means anymore,” I said truthfully. “But I’m not afraid.”

“That’s something.”

We stood there for a moment longer, the kitchen lights dim and golden. Then I grabbed his hand.

“Come on,” I said. “Let’s go out back. I need air. Need to see the moon.”

He didn’t let go.

Outside, the world was still. The grass was damp beneath our feet, the earth cooled after all the burning. I sat down on the old wooden steps and pulled my knees to my chest. Justin sat beside me, close but not crowding, his thigh brushing mine.

The silence this time was softer.

“Thank you,” I said, finally.

He turned to me. “You don’t have to—”

“I do.” I cut him off. “You came for me. You didn’t even think twice. You followed that thing through a portal like it was nothing.”

“I didn’t think,” he admitted. “I just knew you were in danger. That was enough.”

I swallowed thickly. “It shouldn’t have had to be.”

He tilted his head, brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I should’ve told you sooner how bad it was getting. I kept pushing through. Pretending it wasn’t killing me. I didn’t want to make it your burden.”

He was quiet for a moment. Then he said, “I would’ve carried it.”

Those words broke something soft inside me. I looked at him, really looked — the smudges of ash still on his cheek, the faint bruise on his jaw, the gold glow still flickering under the lines of his tattoos. He looked exhausted. And beautiful. And real.

“I think I needed to see it with my own eyes,” I said. “How far you’d go. Not because I didn’t believe in you. But because I didn’t believe anyone would ever come back for me.”

He exhaled, voice tight. “I left people before. I thought Dree was the one who abandoned me, but I left too. And ever since then, I didn’t trust myself to stay for anyone.”

“You stayed this time,” I said.

He turned toward me. “I’m not going anywhere, Waiya. I know what this is. Whatever’s between us, whatever it’s tied to — it’s not just magic. It’s not just battle scars. It’s us.”

The moonlight slid across his face as he leaned in just slightly.

“You sure?” I whispered. “We don’t exactly get a normal love story.”

“I don’t want normal,” he said. “I want you. Fire and scars and all.”

He brushed a thumb under my eye. I hadn’t realized I was crying until he touched the tear.

I leaned into him, forehead pressed to his. Our breaths mingled in the night air, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the world didn’t feel like it was ending. It felt like it was beginning again.

He kissed me — slow, warm, steady.

Not the kind of kiss that asked for anything.

Just one that said: I’m here. I see you. I’m staying.

When we pulled back, I rested my head on his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around me and pulled me close, like he could anchor us both in that moment.

“You know,” he said after a while, “my boots are still in New Orleans.”

I laughed, a real laugh, one that cracked the leftover tension. “Your priorities are wild.”

“I’m serious,” he said, smirking. “All my stuff’s still there. My altar. My books. Some of my protection tools.”

“Guess that means we’re going back eventually.”

“Eventually,” he echoed. “But not yet. You still gotta finish becoming a full-blown powerhouse.”

“And you still owe me a proper date.”

He raised a brow. “Even if it ends with another supernatural ambush?”

“As long as you bring those boots.”

We both laughed this time.

The wind shifted gently around us, warm and full of cedar. Something in the air whispered peace — not because the war was over, but because we’d found each other in the middle of it.

We stayed out there until the stars began to fade.

And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel like I was fighting alone.

I woke with my head on his chest and his arm wrapped protectively around my waist, palm still resting just above the scar.

For the first time in weeks, there was no pain pulsing from it. Just heat. Controlled. Contained. Like it finally knew who it belonged to.

Justin was already awake, watching the ceiling like he was listening to something I couldn’t hear.

“You slept?” I asked, voice husky.

He nodded slowly. “For the first time since I left New Orleans.”

I tilted my head. “You dreaming again?”

He shook his head. “No dreams. Just…stillness. Like something’s waiting.”

A soft knock cut the air. Granny didn’t wait for permission — she never did.

“Up,” she said through the door. “Both of you. The world ain’t gonna wait for you to fall in love.”

Justin groaned. I smirked.

We dressed in silence — loose clothes, bare feet. I tied my braids back tight and wrapped a leather cord around my wrist for strength. When we stepped outside, Granny was already in the backyard, barefoot in the dirt, incense smoking at her feet, a deep line drawn in salt and ash circling her.

“This is it?” Justin asked, brow raised.

Granny cracked her neck and looked him up and down. “You expected a temple?”

“No,” he said. “Just figured there’d be more warning.”

“There ain’t time for warning,” Granny snapped. “The entity’s not gone. It’s wounded. Hiding. But it’s learning. And it knows you now.”

Her eyes locked onto mine.

“And you, Wolf Girl — you gotta stop holding back.”

The dirt beneath us pulsed, a low vibration like the earth’s heartbeat. Granny’s hands moved swiftly, fingers cutting shapes in the air that shimmered gold and green. The salt circle sparked.

“You crossed into death and came back. That means something. You’ve been touched by both sides. You want power? Then fight for it.”

I stepped into the circle.

Justin moved beside me.

Granny didn’t waste another breath.

Suddenly, the dirt beneath our feet rose up — twisting into forms. Shadowy shapes that shimmered like ghosts, figures from our pasts and fears. My father’s silhouette. The dark entity’s snarl. My mother’s angry eyes. Donquavious’s voice.

I stood frozen.

Justin reached for me—but Granny’s voice cracked like a whip. “Don’t protect each other yet. Protect yourselves first.”

The ghost lunged at me. I ducked, rolled, let instinct take over. Fire sparked beneath my skin, the tattoos lighting up from my spine out to my fingertips. I could feel it now — the balance. The way the fire met the earth inside me. The strength I’d inherited.

The scar didn’t scream anymore. It sang.

I punched the shadow, and it burst into a puff of smoke, only to reform behind me.

Justin, across the circle, was locked in his own trial — not with shadows, but with light. A glowing version of his sister appeared before him. Dree. She looked real. Sad. Disappointed.

“You left me,” she said.

He faltered.

“No,” he muttered. “You left me. But I’m not running now.”

He slammed his palms to the dirt. The ground answered. Roots coiled up, trapping the illusion until it dissolved into mist.

We fought until our arms shook, until sweat ran down our faces and our lungs burned. Each time we faltered, the spirits came faster. Stronger. Until I screamed, a deep guttural sound, and flames burst out from my skin in a wave.

All the ghosts disappeared.

Justin rose slowly, tattoos glowing from the chest up. Not just symbols now — but stories. You could see the movement in them, like the ink itself remembered his past and was rewriting it.

Granny finally stepped into the circle.

Her hands touched both our foreheads, her voice lower now. “You’ve both cracked open. Now you gotta decide what to do with it.”

I was shaking. Exhausted. But I felt…aligned. Like I’d finally stood up in my own body.

Justin pulled me into him, pressing his forehead to mine again, both of us panting.

Granny just smirked.

“Good,” she said. “Now we can begin.”