CHAPTER 49

HELENA'S POV

I woke up that morning earlier than usual because the bed was too cold.

That was the first thing I noticed. Jarett’s side was empty and it wasn’t warm. It wasn’t like he’d just gone to the bathroom. It was cold, like he hadn’t been there for hours. The time was 9:03 AM.

The apartment was too quiet. The shower wasn't running and there was no sound of him in the kitchen trying to burn toast again.

My stomach dropped before my brain could catch up. “Jarett?”

My voice sounded too loud in the empty room.

I pushed myself up and his pillow was flat. His hoodie was gone off the chair. His keys weren’t on the counter.

And his phone was face down next to the sink.

He never left his phone. Not even to take out the trash.

I picked it up. No messages. No calls. The last thing in his search history was “old bridge river road”.

The old bridge. 20 minutes out of town. The place the cops didn’t go.

The black started creeping at the edges of my vision. Not from the injury. From fear.

He’d been weird all day yesterday. Scratching at his sleeve. Not eating. Looking at me like he was memorizing my face.

“Don’t be stupid,” I whispered to myself. “He probably went for a run.”

But Jarett didn’t run. Jarett lifted. Jarett stayed.

I threw on jeans and his team hoodie that was still on the chair. It smelled like him. Sweat and that cheap detergent and something else I couldn’t name.

I drove with both hands gripping the wheel. The roads were empty. Sunday morning.

The arena parking lot was empty too when I passed it. The lights were off.

I didn’t know why I checked. Something pulled me there.

The side door was open.

Not broken. Just open. Like someone used a key.

My heart started pounding in my throat.

Inside it smelled like the cleaner and nothing else. The hallway echoed with my footsteps.

Locker 17 was open.

Dell’s locker.

The bench was empty except for a smear of water. Like something had been sitting there and was taken.

And on the floor, tucked half under the bench, was a piece of red fabric.

I bent down and picked it up.

Grandma Evelyn’s scarf.

The one I thought I lost when we moved out of her house. The one she used to wear when she came to my games. It smelled like rosemary and old paper.

The air left my lungs.

“Jarett,” I said. But there was no one to hear me.

I ran back to the car. I didn’t remember driving to the bridge. I just remember the rain on the windshield and my hands shaking.

He was there.

On his knees on the wet pavement. Not moving.

The box was open next to him. The scarf was spilled out. And a photo was face down in a puddle.

“Maren,” I said. But she wasn’t there. Only him. Only the rain.

I dropped to the ground and pulled him into my lap. He was cold. So cold.

“Jarett. Jarett, look at me. Hey.”

I pressed two fingers to his neck. A pulse. Weak. Too slow.

The black veins were all the way up his arm now. Up his neck. Like ink had been poured under his skin.

And in his palm, cut open, was a line that looked burned.

The blood oath.

I understood it all at once. The hospital. The potion. The way he’d been watching me like he was saying goodbye.

He traded himself for me.

A sound came out of me that didn’t sound human.

I grabbed his face with both hands. “No. No, you don’t get to do this. You don’t get to leave me after I just got back.”

His eyelashes fluttered.

“Hel...”

“I’m here,” I said, crying now, not caring. “I’m here. Stay with me. Please stay with me.”

His eyes opened. Gold was reflecting in them, but not his. The rain.

“You found it,” he whispered. His voice was barely there. “The photo.”

“I found it,” I said. “I found you. Don’t talk. I’m calling 911.”

“No,” he said. And his hand, the one with the black veins, came up and caught my wrist. “If you call... the veins...”

“Then what?” I shouted. “Then what, Jarett? You die?”

He tried to smile. It looked like it hurt. “Worth it.”

“Don’t you say that to me.” I was shaking him now. “Don’t you ever say that to me. You don’t get to decide that for me.”

The rain was running down both of our faces.

“I’m not losing you,” I said. “Not to her. Not to this. Not again.”

I pulled the scarf off the ground. It was wet but I wrapped it around his hand anyway. Like it would do something. Like it would be enough.

“Listen to me,” I said. My voice was steady even though everything inside me was breaking. “You made a deal to keep me safe. I’m safe. So the deal is done. Do you hear me? It’s done.”

His eyes were closing again.

“Helena...”

“I’m not letting go,” I said. I laid down on the wet concrete next to him and pulled him against me. “You hear me? I’m not letting go.”

Somewhere in the distance I heard sirens. Or maybe that was just the blood in my ears.

I held him tighter.

And I made a promise to the river, to the rain, to whatever was listening.

If Maren wanted him, she was going to have to go through me first.