Chapter Ten : Ghosts of the Past
689 Words
The words were still painted on the glass, bleeding crimson under the moonlight.
GIVE HER BACK.
They followed us as we moved.
Killian didn’t say anything. Neither did I.
But I felt it—his hand brushing mine whenever we turned a corner, his sharp gaze constantly sweeping the shadows.
I couldn’t tell if he was looking for danger…
Or waiting for me to run.
⸻
The conservatory doors creaked open again, this time leading us out into the east gardens.
It was quieter out here.
Too quiet.
My head pounded as we walked along a path choked with overgrown ivy. The memories—or the holes where memories should be—pressed hard against my skull.
I didn’t trust myself to speak.
But Killian did.
“You never liked this place,” he said.
I blinked.
He kept his eyes ahead, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, his voice almost casual. “The conservatory. You always said it felt haunted.”
I stopped walking.
“Killian.”
He paused too.
“You said ‘always.’”
He glanced back at me, and for a second, there was no cold in his eyes.
Only heat.
Only something close to regret.
⸻
“We’ve met before, haven’t we?”
My voice came out rough.
Killian exhaled slowly, like he’d been holding his breath for years.
“Yes.”
⸻
I wanted to ask more.
I wanted to scream.
But before I could do either, a figure stepped out of the shadows up ahead.
Killian was already moving, slipping in front of me like a shield.
The man wore a charcoal-grey suit. His hands were bare, hanging at his sides, no weapons visible.
But his eyes…
They were sharp as glass.
“You took your time,” he said to Killian.
Killian didn’t move. “You’re not supposed to be here.”
The man smiled. “Neither is she.”
His gaze flicked to me.
I felt the weight of it, heavy and knowing.
“She doesn’t remember,” Killian said.
“Convenient.”
“Say your piece,” Killian snapped.
The man tilted his head. “You have something that doesn’t belong to you.”
Killian’s hand found my wrist. His fingers curled there, protective, possessive.
“She’s not a thing.”
“She was,” the man said calmly. “And you broke the deal.”
My heart hammered. “What deal?”
Killian’s grip tightened just slightly.
But it was enough.
“Killian,” I whispered, “what deal?”
He didn’t answer.
⸻
The man took a step forward.
And in the flickering garden light, I saw it.
A mark on his wrist.
It looked familiar.
Too familiar.
I pressed my fingers to my temple.
White-hot pain exploded behind my eyes, and suddenly I was somewhere else—
Rain.
Hands on my arms.
Someone whispering, “You don’t have to do this.”
And then the smell of smoke.
⸻
“Lane!”
Killian’s voice snapped me back.
I staggered, but he caught me.
Both arms around me this time, steady and strong.
“Don’t listen to him,” he said low against my ear.
The man smiled again. “It’s too late for that.”
⸻
A sharp sound echoed through the garden.
I barely saw Killian move.
One second, he was next to me.
The next, he was slamming the man against the garden wall, forearm pressed hard to his throat.
“You stay away from her,” Killian said, cold and deadly.
The man didn’t struggle. He only smiled wider.
“She’s already slipping,” he whispered.
And something inside me fractured.
⸻
Killian let him go.
The man straightened his suit jacket like nothing had happened.
“I’ll see you both soon,” he said.
And then he walked away.
⸻
We stood there for a long time.
Killian breathing hard.
Me shaking.
“What did he mean?” I asked finally.
Killian didn’t look at me.
But when he spoke, his voice was hoarse.
“You didn’t just lose your memory, Lane.”
I swallowed.
“You gave it away.”
- Writer
