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Chapter 14
Last Updated:
2025-05-16 18:15:25---
Chapter 14: what was left
The ride home was quiet. Too quiet. Isla’s eyes drifted over the passing trees, their branches flickering like dark fingers against the fading light. Her mind swirled with pieces of the day—the burned book, the mysterious ticking box, the letter that felt like a ghost whispering from the past. She tried to make sense of it all, but it only tangled deeper.
Christopher’s grip on the wheel was tight, his knuckles pale.
“Do you think that explosion was a bomb?” she finally asked, breaking the silence.
He didn’t answer right away. When he did, his voice was low and sharp. “Could be. Or maybe someone sending a message.”
“Someone who likes to toy with us,” Isla murmured. “Ghosts and fire.”
When they got back, the apartment’s security system had been triggered. Christopher checked the cameras—there had been movement, but no sign of anyone breaking in.
Still, Isla felt watched. Like the walls themselves were holding their breath.
Sleep wouldn’t come that night. She lay in bed staring at the ceiling, the letter’s words repeating over and over:
The one who came before you never left.
At some point, she couldn’t stay still. She slipped out of bed and into the kitchen, barefoot. She poured herself a glass of wine and looked out at the quiet street bathed in moonlight.
Behind her, Christopher’s voice broke the silence. “Can’t sleep either?”
She turned. “Do you believe in hauntings?”
He shrugged, leaning against the doorframe. “No. I believe in people with too much power and not enough conscience.”
“Maybe they’re the same thing,” she said softly.
They stood there in the quiet, the tension between them sharp and unspoken.
Finally, Isla spoke. “I found another letter.”
His eyes narrowed. “When?”
“In the lining of one of Aurelia’s old books. She hid things like poems and diary entries. But this one… it wasn’t for me.”
“Who then?”
“For my mother.”
Christopher stepped closer. “What does it say?”
Isla handed him the fragile piece of paper, yellowed and delicate.
He read aloud, the words slow and heavy:
You always loved with a fire I couldn’t hold. But if the world burns, I want my ashes to carry your touch.
—A.
“That’s not friendship,” he muttered.
“No,” Isla agreed. “It never was.”
There was silence, thick and heavy.
When she reached to take the letter back, their hands touched. Neither pulled away.
“Isla…” His voice was soft, but full of warning.
She looked into his eyes. “I don’t care.”
Before either of them could stop it, he closed the space between them.
Their kiss was hesitant at first, full of all the things neither could say aloud—grief, anger, confusion, and a desperate need.
Clothes fell away quietly, like forgotten secrets.
When he held her, it wasn’t just desire—it was something deeper. Something broken, but real.
She let herself feel it.
---
Later, she rested against his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat.
“We can’t undo this,” she whispered.
Christopher’s hand stroked her hair. “I know. And I don’t want to.”
She lifted her head. “Even if it destroys us?”
He tightened his jaw. “Some things are worth burning for.”
Her breath caught.
Then her phone buzzed on the table.
One message. Unknown number.
She left more than just a will. You’re not the only one she marked. —E
Isla’s heart froze.
Ethan was back.
And this time, he wasn’t finished.
---
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