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SEBASTIAN— A week ago. (Nytherin attack)

I didn’t hear him approach.

Maybe I’d been too deep in thought, too buried in what used to be, to notice the sound of his steps. Maybe he parked down the street and walked in just to catch me off guard. Maybe I should’ve seen it coming.

At the very least, I should’ve seen his goddamn car.

But no. One second I was alone on a bench soaked in memories, and the next, he was there—before me, hands tucked in his pocket, leaning against the streetlight.

Ezra Harrington.

I didn’t stand. Just looked up at him, pulse still ragged from whatever the hell had just happened to me a few minutes ago.

My voice came out low, hoarse, tired. “What are you doing here?”

He tilted his head slightly. “Ooops. Just here to have a little chat with you.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You following me now?”

“Unfortunately, yes?”

My heart thud against my ribs, definitely pumping more blood than needed. My hands and legs felt numb as I sat on the stone bench, watching as he approached me.

“You spaced out in traffic for over two hours. I'm just here to make you forget so that you could live a normal life.”

My fingers twitched.

I knew something was wrong.

With this man. With everything. With how I was told I spoke out about giving up Finn's custody just minutes after talking with this man when I don't even have any recollection of what happened during the court proceedings.

I knew something was wrong.

Terribly so.

“Don't come near me.” I said, voice tight.

He didn't flinch. “I don't take requests or orders from men like you.”

“Bullshit.” I muttered. Instinct took over as I shut my eyes tightly. “Don't you dare come near me. Say back asshole.”

He chuckled, nearer now. “You can't tell me what to do.”

I flinched when he placed his hand on my head. 

“Open your eyes, Calloway.”

Sweat rolled down my temple and with quivering lips, I said, “No…”

“I won't ask again.” He said darkly, pulling my hair just enough for me to flinch. “Now, open your eyes and let me help you. Humans need to stay as humans.”

Heavens. The way he said it.

My body grew cold as my eyes slowly fluttered open, meeting his gaze straightaway.

Red. Blood glowing red eyes.

Shit, what's he?

“What—”

His eyes glowed brighter in the dark, and I felt something poking at my insides. Not really inside, but like something poking my thoughts. Fingers pressing against my consciousness.

“Lull into a sleep.” He murmured, eyes holding mine. “When you wake up, be good as new. Forget everything that happened in the last two hours.”

My eyes widened as if wanting to pop out of my sockets just as his hand dropped from my head.

Then, the drowsiness kicked in. 

Fast. Muddy-like. Disorienting.

His words echoed in my head, like an order, one I have no choice but to follow. All the while his figure continued to come in and out of focus like a broken disc.

“I… I'm going to… kill you…” I rasped.

Then, the darkness swallowed me.

.

.

.

SEBASTIAN — Later That Night

I woke up to darkness.

Not the kind you fall asleep in, wrapped in sheets, comforted by silence—but the kind that makes your skin crawl. The kind that reminded you too late that you weren’t meant to be here.

My head throbbed.

I blinked up at the dim flicker of a streetlight, hazy at first, until it solidified into something familiar. That damned park light. The one by the edge of the lot. Yellow, dying, always buzzing like it had something to say but couldn’t get the words out.

What the hell…?

I sat up slowly. My back ached like I’d been there for hours. Dirt clung to my clothes. My throat was dry, and my hands were trembling.

I looked around at the empty park, cold night air biting into my skin. Everything felt wrong. Wrong in a way I couldn’t name.

My heart pounded harder.

How did I get here?

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to latch onto something—anything. The last thing I remembered was grabbing my keys. Leaving the apartment after yet another argument with Claire. The door slamming behind me.

And then… nothing.

Not the drive. Not the walk. Not the bench. Not the park. Just—nothing.

A whole stretch of my memory is gone. Clean as bone. As if I just blinked and appeared in this park.

I racked my brain like a madman, clawing at thoughts that refused to stay still. Disjointed flashes came in—my name, Finn, a park bench, red. Some low, almost mechanical voice in the back of my head saying forget. Static followed. That was all.

And then pain.

A sharp, lancing headache that dug in deep the harder I thought. Like something pushing back, not wanting me to remember. My skull felt like it was splintering, pressure building behind my eyes until I swore they’d burst.

“Shit,” I muttered, stumbling to my feet. My legs shook beneath me, unsteady as I headed toward the street.

The wind had picked up. Cold. Biting. The kind that usually sobered a man. But not tonight. Nothing felt real tonight.

I found my car exactly where I must’ve left it, parked at the curb, engine off. I hurriedly patted my pocket and sighed in relief. The key was still in my pocket.

I slid in behind the wheel, heart still hammering, breath shaky. I closed the door and rested my hands on the wheel before shoving the key in, turning on the engine.

It was when I glanced down—when my eyes caught the dash—that everything came rushing back.

That red glow.

That digital countdown timer that only popped up when the engine was switched on, showing the fuel tank and speed level.

My head snaps to the time.

02:14:33.

Two hours. Fourteen minutes. Thirty-three seconds.

I stared at it like it was alive. Like it was mocking me.

And that’s when the flood hit.

Ezra. The streetlamp. His voice—low, calm, commanding. Red eyes. A hand on my head. Words I didn’t understand then but understood now: Lull into a sleep and when you wake, forget.

“No,” I whispered, gripping the wheel tighter. “No—no, no, no—”