#maturecontent

01

“I'm sorry,” someone claiming to be a dear friend of your mother’s patted your shoulder. You didn't care to turn to acknowledge her, just staring at the headstone where your mother's name was engraved. The longer you stared at it, the worse you felt as you recalled her being buried six feet deep into the ground.

You barely paid attention to the ceremony, and you didn't even try to give one last message. It was a funeral, for Christ's sake. Solemnity was the only thing that should matter. You weren’t going to bawl your eyes out because you've had enough of that at the hospital, where she died. The priest gave you a look that you hated — pity — when you refused to give a speech in front of the people who didn't even know your mother's favorite food.

What was pitying in not wanting to be transparent to strangers? That should stay between you and your mother, and you're not going to thank the people for attending her funeral. There's nothing to be thankful for.

As the few remaining people left, some of whom tried to pay their respects with a pat or a side hug, you didn't bother responding. An hour later, you were the only one left standing — dressed in all black, even holding a black umbrella, paired with a black coat, handkerchief, and shoes. It was like you were cosplaying. Cosplaying as someone who hid their feelings well underneath the monochrome clothing.

How could they take her away from you? She still had dreams at her age, and she wanted to travel more. At the hospital three days ago, she even told you she'd join a book club when she got discharged and tag you along, to which you rolled your eyes at. She was happy and full of energy… why did it end so quickly?

You remember dumping your coffee in the nearby trash and running to her room. They didn't even let you in, restraining you when you tried to pull away so you could get to her. But it was too late. Your chest tightened at the sound of the flatline. The sound haunted you so much that you could still hear it, even now.

Drifting back to reality, you gripped the flowers in your hand — lilies, to be exact — and bent down to lay them on her grave. You felt your throat tightening at her name on the tombstone. Scanning it, you brushed away some dirt then caressed it.

“I know you like lilies, so…” You set the bouquet against the headstone before stepping back. You could almost picture the smile she'd give you. In your current state, she'd probably tease you for spending money on flowers.

“Don't complain that they're expensive.” Your lips twitched, waiting for the familiar retort that never came.

You clicked your tongue.

“No complaints, huh? Yeah, figures.”

You stared at her polished stone, gripping the umbrella in your hand. It was ridiculous, really. Four days ago she'd been arguing with a nurse over hospital food, insisting she'd make better curry once she got home.

Now she was a name carved into granite.

You refused to believe it. Or even understand it.

The funeral had made one thing painfully obvious, and it was that everyone expected you to cry. They expected a sobbing daughter, one who would stand before them and pour her heart out for people who barely knew your mother.

Most of them were relatives you'd met once or twice in your life. The rest were her so-called dear friends—the same people who never visited her in the hospital, never called to ask how she was doing, and somehow still found the time to mourn her in public. They looked at you with pity when you refused to give a speech.

As if you were the strange one.

Screw that.

You shoved your right hand inside the pocket of your coat when you felt the urge to touch the stone again. You blew out a breath, chuckling without humor. "Who am I supposed to complain to now?" It came out harsher than intended.

The silence irritated you.

That wasn't her. It was just a piece of rock with her name carved on it.

So why were you still talking?

You took one last look at her before you turned slowly, making your way to your mom's car—which was now yours. The drive back to the house felt dreadfully long, but maybe it was because you drove too slowly. You could still feel her presence in the car, which made you grip the steering wheel tighter.

Once you made it there, you stayed inside the car for a few moments. With a sigh, you rested your forehead against the wheel.

How the hell are you going to stay inside the house? You'd lived with your mother until your freshman year of college. During the summer before your sophomore year, she insisted that you learn to live on your own. She didn't want you to be caged in your house, and she wanted you to explore life for yourself. That's why she made you move into a dorm.

You even tried to talk her out of it, but she stood her ground. “Stop it and do what I tell you. You're going to regret living with me until you're single and old,” she said.

And you did. You regretted leaving her, because if you hadn't, you would've been able to take care of her. 

Ever since you were a toddler with no father in sight, you'd only ever grown comfortable with your mother's presence. For the first time in your life, you were miles away from her, so you'd often call whenever you were free and didn't have any coursework to do. It was a routine the two of you had. She was practically your best friend, since she knew almost everything that happened in your life.

You didn't have a best friend other than your mother. Well, you did once, but it didn't end well. It was the reason you had trust issues whenever someone tried to befriend you. The only person you could call a friend now was Faye, but you'd kept your guard up ever since the incident, so you never really tried to get any closer to her.

So, you had no one. It was just you and your mother, until she died.

Sitting in silence grew uncomfortable as moments passed, so you grabbed your things and got out of the car. Your steps felt heavier as you approached the front door. The last time you were here was this morning, when you had numbly dressed for the funeral. You hadn't had the time to dwell on your mother's absence.

Now that the ceremony was over, there was plenty of time to notice her absence. Her shoes in the corner, the flower vase on the coffee table, her keys hanging from the wall-mounted key rack, and her scent lingering in the air.

Stupid fucking disease.

You removed your coat and threw it on the sofa, not before picking it up again to hang it on the coat rack—as if your mother were there to scold you. The house was eerily quiet, so you made your way to your bedroom, one you hadn't slept in for a few months.

As you opened the door to your room, you were greeted by the stale scent caused by trapped air. Everything was exactly where you'd left it — which somehow made it worse. You inhaled deeply, memories flooding back, eyeing the bed that you once cried on when you and your mother had a fight. It was about your absent father — how you'd asked your mother about him, only for her to shrug off your curiosity. Now, you knew why she acted like that. She just didn't want to talk about the man who hurt you both. 

You never asked about him after that.

Taking slow steps, your eyes roamed around your childhood room. A lump formed in your throat as your vision blurred at the edges before you forced it back, jaw clenched. You'd had enough of crying. You already did plenty of that this week, and you didn't want to lose your streak of not bawling your eyes out on the day of her funeral. 

You sat on the edge of the bed, and caressed the flat sheets. She probably washed this every now and then while you were away. A small smile formed on your lips — before you caught yourself and let it fall. Habit, maybe. Old enough that it didn't need an audience anymore. 

She was too good for this world, anyway.

It felt like hours before you decided to move and change out of your funeral-outfit cosplay. The bathroom was the only place where you could be yourself without expectant looks from others. You scrubbed your skin raw under the shower until it reddened, making you numb — as if the cold water could erase the feeling of solitude threatening to drown you. Everything was numb, even when you pinched yourself and rested your head against the wall. 

A tear slid down your cheek, the water washing it down quickly. You didn't bother stopping it as it continuously flowed, letting yourself feel vulnerable, if only for a moment. A sound escaped you, something between a laugh and a sob. You didn't recognize your own voice.

Was this what everyone wanted from you today? To crumble, to sob, to prove you loved her? Screw them for wanting it. But here you were, alone, doing it anyway — just for yourself this time.

Well, you were human after all. Fuck the streak. Fuck cancer. Fuck everyone else.

A few hours later, drained of whatever that was in the shower, you found yourself in the kitchen — doing something you didn't even know you had a skill for: baking cookies. You didn't even know why your feet dragged you here. Maybe because the smell of her in the kitchen still lingered, or a distant memory of her teaching you how to bake.

Either way, you were going to bake cookies even if you could feel the exhaustion in your bones.

Kneading the dough with more force than necessary, you decided that the silence was deafening. You wiped your hands and went to your room to grab your phone. There were messages from Faye, from the nurse in the hospital, and others from distant relatives. You cleared all notifications and played a song that would distract your thoughts.

Finally, your attention was solely on the cookie you were attempting to bake. Tasting it, you tilted your head, unsure. You weren't an expert cookie baker, but at least Gordon Ramsay wasn't here to scold you for the mediocre batch. Eh, that was good enough for now. 

After a few minutes of letting it sit inside the oven, you opened it and were met by how good it smelled. Guess that wasn't so bad, huh? The corner of your lips tipped, impressed by your work. You grabbed one cookie and blew on it before taking a small bite. Okay, that wasn't the best, but not the worst either.

You were suddenly motivated to bake more batches, not even thinking about how you were going to finish it all by yourself. Your neighbors probably knew you just came home from your mother's funeral, so you weren't planning on giving them cookies. They'd probably think it was poisoned, that you'd lost your mind, or that you were heartless for "celebrating."

A bowl filled with cookies and a cold juice in your hands, you decided to watch something. You decided to continue the series you were watching, Sex and the City. It was halfway through the episode when you finished your first batch of cookies. You kept watching, keeping yourself entertained, until you reached the episode where Miranda's mother died. What a coincidence.

She represented you in a way — wanting to put on a front, too damn stubborn to let her feelings out. The queen of suppression. Damn, was this episode written for you?

You decided you'd had enough of watching yourself on screen and turned it off. But the silence enveloping the room made you turn it on again, mindlessly flicking over the channels. 

You landed on a news channel, the anchor's voice steady and practiced. You almost changed it, but something he mentioned made you pause.

“...and in tonight's special segment, we take a look at an initiative that's been gaining quiet attention across state correctional facilities — inmate pen-pal programs.”

You blinked at the screen, thumb hovering over the remote as your curiosity grew.

The screen cut to a woman being interviewed, her expression somewhere between hopeful and tired, judging by the circles under her eyes. “I never thought I'd be the one writing to a stranger in prison,” she said. “But he replies to every letter. Some of these men just don't have anyone left in their lives.”

The segment cut to file footage of rows of cells, hands gripping bars, a man sitting alone at a metal table with nothing but a pen and paper in front of him. The anchor's voiceover mentioned something about reduced reoffending rates, about isolation being one of the biggest challenges inside the system, about people who hadn't received a single letter in years.

At the bottom of the screen, a number scrolled by along with a website — some organization that matched volunteers with inmates who'd opted in to receive mail.

You didn't write it down. You didn't need to. Some prisons, the segment mentioned, accepted mail addressed simply to the facility, no name required, sorted and distributed among inmates who wanted correspondence. The woman’s words rang in your head, “Some of these men just don’t have anyone left in their lives.”

You sat there long after the segment ended, your juice forgotten as it left a moist ring on your coffee table. 

Someone with no one left, huh.

The thought sat there, uninvited, refusing to leave. You bit your lower lip hard, staring into space. You told yourself it was stupid. You told yourself you'd forget about it by morning.

You didn't.

It was currently 2:00 AM, a tab open on your laptop, the search bar reading: how to send letters to prison. You told yourself it was crazy. You almost shut down your laptop and tucked yourself into bed to sleep, so you could forget the ridiculous idea forming in your head. But you kept staring at the pen and paper laying on your night table, as if it were teasing you. 

“Shit,” you mumbled to yourself, gnawing your lower lip until it drew blood and woke you up.

After a quick debate with yourself, you gave in to the urge and snatched the paper and pen off the table. You exhaled deeply and closed your eyes for a moment. Were you really going to do this? Your eyes fell to the paper in your hand, staring at it as if it would disappear. It didn’t.

You took that as a sign to pull yourself out of bed, turned the lamp on your study table, then sat on the chair. Laid out before you were the paper and pen, and whatever was left of your pride. With shaky hands, you grabbed the pen… and started writing.

Surprisingly, you weren't nervous about the writing itself — the words came easier than expected. What made it nerve-wracking was knowing your dignity was on the line, but you poured your heart into the letter anyway. Without pausing, you wrote whatever you were feeling in the moment, letting it all spill onto the page.

Hi.

I don't know if anyone would read this, or if anyone in prison would even want a letter from a stranger who didn't ask for a name. I just needed to send it somewhere. So if this doesn't get burned or torn, I guess I'll try to make it worth reading.

My mother died two days ago. I don't think I'd ever really known grief until now. It was a weird feeling — loss. I just lost someone I loved, and here I am, baking cookies just to distract myself.

I wasn't someone who talked to people about my feelings, and I think this is the best way to let it out. Crazy and sad, but I didn't have anyone left. I lost everyone. Never had a father growing up, a couple of friends along the way, but they weren't the type to stay.

The last time I talked to her, I was excited to shop for a dress for my graduation. I'll be graduating in a week, but I can't bring myself to look forward to it. My mom was the only person I had, and she was supposed to be there.

Honestly, this was an impulsive decision — it's currently 2:34 AM. I couldn't sleep, and I didn't want to rely on sleeping pills. I love my mother, but I wasn't about to become a ghost story too by following her.

I just had to let this out. It's fine if no one reads this, or if you read this and think it's weird to receive a letter from a grieving 20-something. I'll be alright knowing I delivered it to the right address, because from what I've heard, it's boring in prison. Unless you gained pals there, well… good for you. 0 - me, 1 - you.

Thanks for reading this far, if you did.

Hope you’re having a great day there. You’re probably doing better than me. 

Sincerely, 

a girl who should be sleeping

Once you filled the whole paper with words you didn't know you'd say to someone, you scanned it thoroughly. A small part of you felt hopeful about the response, while the other felt pathetic and alone. 

Were you that lonely, resorting to opening up to a prisoner by sending a letter about your mom's death? Someone who'd probably committed heinous crimes — or maybe hadn't, maybe they'd been wronged and didn't deserve to be there at all. Either way, someone locked up behind bars. 

Reading it over and over again, you contemplated whether you'd send it or not.

What could go wrong? At this moment, you couldn't think of anything. It was a harmless letter, one that a prisoner would read and probably judge you by how you wrote it.

You folded the letter carefully, sliding it into the envelope before sealing it shut. Grabbing a pen, you hovered over the blank space meant for a return address.

Your hand stayed frozen there for a moment too long.

Did you actually want a stranger — a prisoner — to know where you lived? The thought alone made you pause, chewing the inside of your cheek. But then again, what were the odds he'd even reply? You were just some random name attached to a random letter, one of probably hundreds he'd never bother responding to.

Actually, scratch that. He wouldn't even know your name since you didn't write it.

You settled on writing just your address, leaving your name out of it entirely. If this whole thing turned out to be a mistake, at least you'd have that much control over it. Satisfied, you capped the pen and set the envelope on your desk, staring at it for a long moment before finally allowing yourself to exhale.

Tomorrow, you decided. You'd mail it tomorrow, once the sun was up and this 2 AM impulse didn't feel quite as insane as it probably was.

Sleep didn't take over. You barely slept — if you could even call it sleep, when it was just a nap.

Three hours of tossing and turning, you gave up and groaned. Sitting up, you rubbed your tired eyes, a yawn escaping your mouth. You were so tired, but apparently not tired enough to actually get any real sleep. 

And you blamed it on the envelope sitting on your table.

Narrowing your eyes at it, you averted your gaze to ignore it and decided to wash your face. You stared at yourself in the mirror, noticing the dark circles under your eyes, fatigue evident on your features. Not wanting to be more depressed, you turned away from the mirror and made your way to the table.

You reached for the envelope that contained your feelings. The more you looked at it, the more the anxiety grew. It's just a simple letter, calm down, you told yourself. Yeah, a simple letter that would let a prisoner take a glimpse at your vulnerability.

Once you were done beating yourself up over some letter, you grabbed your keys, put on a hoodie, and left the house at six in the morning. You drove to the nearest post office, glancing at the envelope on the passenger seat every so often, as if making sure it hadn't disappeared.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you stepped out of your car with the envelope in hand. The line was short, a few people ahead of you, each one making the wait feel unbearably long, the anxiety growing with every passing minute.

When it was finally your turn, you slid the envelope across the counter almost too quickly, as if speed would keep you from changing your mind.

“Just this one?” the clerk asked, barely looking up.

“Yeah,” you said quietly, fiddling with the sleeve of your hoodie. “Just this one.”

You watched it disappear into the outgoing mail bin, and something in your chest tightened.

There was no taking it back now.

next chapter

notes: there's a few SATC references in here because fun fact... I had this exact idea a few days ago while watching that specific episode where miranda's mother dies. I wanted to write prisoner!Toji and a pen-pal dark romance, and then, cherry on top, I was watching that SATC episode at the same time. which is also how the title "mama, I'm in love with a criminal" came to be. short rant over. hope you liked this one :) I'll try to update frequently!

credits to @angeliicide & @uzmacchiato for the dividers <3

The cool night air blew through the open window, billowing the curtains. The moonlight provided the only light in the dark room, bathing the empty bassinet just underneath the window in a white glow.

As if on queue, you felt a sharp kick under your rib and winced, moving your hand to the spot and rubbing gently. You were a couple weeks shy of 9 months and completely fed up with being pregnant.

To be fair, you had been fed up since your first trimester when you were vomiting up everything you ate and constantly nauseous.

Jesse waited on you, hand and foot, when he wasn't busy with patrols or the council.

Right after you'd found out you were pregnant, he had become the youngest member of the council and Tommy's right-hand man. It came with a lot of responsibilities and struggles, but he stuck around when you threatened his life and for the rough couple of weeks when the mere sight of him sent you into a rage.

You would scream at him and then cry hysterically when the fog would clear, and you realized just how mean you were being.

Of course, he didn't hold it against you, assuring you it was all normal. The emotional outbursts came with the territory, besides he was far too busy being obsessed with the idea of you carrying his baby to let anything bother him.

He'd been reading the books that Maria had given you, including a book called 'What To Expect When You're Expecting'. Anything he couldn't find in the books, would be answered by Tommy, the man he went to for all of life's questions.

You knew he was talking Tommy's ear off any chance he got. A handful of times you'd find them sat on your porch, Jesse with a list of questions and Tommy with a beer, trying his best to answer. It helped that Ben was only 5 years old, so all the memories of Maria throwing him out for breathing too close or her strange cravings were still fresh in his mind.

By your second trimester, the nausea had subsided, and you felt the glow that everyone talked about. You had your energy back, for the most part, and was able to return to your duties in the community, as much as Jesse would allow.

The guy had spies all over town and the second you attempted something like lifting a box or guiding a horse into a stall, you were stopped. You thought it was cute how much he cared.

At town parties he would dote on you, finding any excuse to touch your ever-growing bump.

At home he would give you massages or rub your feet, which always turned into something more. He opted for pleasuring you whenever he got the chance, having read that orgasms throughout the pregnancy could lessen the pain of childbirth. You weren't sure if it was true, but you weren't going to stop him.

Now nearing the end of your pregnancy, whatever comfort or sex drive you had, was completely gone. Your belly was protruding so far that you could barely see your feet, which were swollen and painful to walk on. Your whole body seemed to ache more and more each day making it damn near impossible to sleep.

The baby was running out of room inside you, and you were running out of patience.

You sighed, shifting slowly in bed, careful to not wake Jesse who was snoring quietly beside you. He'd become quite a light sleeper over the course of the last couple of months, always worried you might need something in the middle of the night.

When you finally managed to sit up against the headboard you pushed the messy hair off your face and reached for the glass of water on the nightstand. It was room temperature now, but still eased your dry throat.

Just as you set the glass back down, there was a gentle touch on your arm, followed by a deep, gravelly voice, "Are you okay baby?"

With the moonlight shining through you could see that he was propped up on his elbow, blinking at you. He'd had a long day of riding with Tommy; with the warm season coming there was more sightings of infected in the area.

"I'm okay," You whispered, moving your hand back to your belly as you felt a strange sensation in place of the baby's kicks, "Go back to sleep"

Intuitive as ever his hand followed, resting just below yours as his thumb rubbed soothingly across the fabric of the shirt that covered the large bump, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," You sighed, watching him yawn and feeling guilty for stirring him awake. "I'm just feeling some of tightness right here"

"Contractions?" He asked, voice cracking as he shifted slightly under the blanket, ready to bolt out of bed. He'd been nervous about the thought of you going into labor since the moment you told him you were pregnant.

"No—Well I don't think so," You replied, as the feeling began to dissipate. It's not like you had experience with it, but judging off what Maria had told you, that wasn't what a contraction would feel like, "It was just weird"

He listened intently, chewing on the inside of his cheek. After a moment he nodded, rubbing at his eyes, "Maybe it was braxton hicks, sort of like practice contractions to prepare you for labor"

"You've been spending way too much time reading those damn books," You teased, feeling his hand run along your thigh under the blanket, leaving a trail of goosebumps. You leaned over carefully, catching his expression before pressing your lips against his in a quick gentle kiss, "It doesn't matter, it's gone now"

Just was you were pulling away, he was leaning back in, chasing your lips. When he caught them again, he moved his slow against yours, savoring the taste of you in his tired state. You kissed him back, enjoying the way his tongue slipped into your mouth as he moved closer to you. You felt his hand slide to your inner thigh just as you pulled back, breaking the kiss again. 

He made a sound deep in his throat that made you wish you weren't pregnant and had the energy to go all night with him. But instead you leaned over and whispered, "I'm going to get a snack"

Jesse moved to sit up then, more awake despite the yawn that escaped his lips, "I'll go with you"

"Jesse," You laughed, pressing your hand to his bare chest and pushing him back into the pillows, "You need to sleep, you have patrol in a couple hours"

He sighed, glancing at the clock on the side table, peering at you through heavy eyelids. It wouldn't be the first night that you snuck out of bed and hung out in the kitchen, eating anything you could get your hands on.

"You'll wake me if something happens?"

Your bare feet were already coming in contact with the cold wood floors before you hummed a response to him, softly closing the door behind you as you waddled out of the room.

The trek downstairs was proving to be quite difficult as you felt another tightening sensation, this time on the other side of your belly. By the time you made it to the bottom step it was gone again and all you could think about was how hungry you were.

You turned on the stove light, learning over the months that it provided just enough light for late night snacking.

You settled on a box of cookies that Dina had dropped off a couple days prior. She knew that the pregnancy had given you an extreme sweet tooth and proclaimed herself as your cookie dealer.

You took a bite, closing your eyes dramatically as the sweetness danced over your tastebuds. If Maria were standing in the room with you, she would have laughed at the sight. She'd been telling you about old wives tales over the last few months and claimed you would be having a girl. Craving sweets was one of the big indicators along with the fact that you were carrying high, but you would only roll your eyes at her.

You didn't have a preference. All you really hoped for was a fast delivery and a healthy baby. Jesse felt the same, of course, but you could tell he was partial to a girl.

You leaned against the counter as you took another bite, looking across the room to the window. It was still dark, but the moon was providing just as much light as it was through the upstairs window.

As you reached for another cookie in the dimly lit kitchen, you heard a creak on the old floorboard behind you. Spinning around to find Jesse entering the room as he pulled a dark shirt over his head.

"-Fuck, Jesse, didn't anyone ever tell you not to sneak up on a pregnant woman"

"Sorry," His voice was still thick and scratchy from sleep as he moved across the kitchen pulling the shirt over his toned stomach, "I don't like sleeping alone"

You smiled to yourself remembering all the late nights that Jesse would be on watch when the two of you had just begun dating. You would toss and turn for hours before deciding to climb up on the gates to be with him.

"You got another long day ahead of you," You scolded, through a mouthful of cookie, "You should really go to sleep"

He ignored you, moving to stand behind you and snake his arms around your waist. His hands spread across the bottom of your belly, where he carefully applied pressure upward, lifting it.

You melted against him immediately, leaning back against his chest. The position took some of the weight and strain off of your back and abdomen as he literally held your belly for you. It was something he did often after reading that the simple gesture could alleviate some of the discomfort you were feeling.

"I love when you do this" You mumbled, swallowing the last bite of your cookie.

He hummed against your neck, pressing a soft kiss to the skin there.

"What if you did this all day?" You joked as your eyes fluttered close, feeling your muscles relax.

His chest vibrated against your back when he let out a low laugh, "It's only been a couple minutes, and I can already feel it in my back"

"You better be glad you don't have to carry this thing around 24/7," You giggled, as you felt him press another kiss to the side of your neck, "Everything hurts all the time"

"I'm sorry baby" He cooed in your ear, making your knees go weak. It never failed to surprise how much you craved him, even as pregnant as you were. "You're almost there"

"I'm lookin' forward to not being pregnant anymore," You hummed, leaning your head back to rest on his shoulder as he swayed your bodies slowly, the motion doing wonders for your hips, "Can you lift higher?"

"I'll miss it," He spoke quietly against your ear as he repositioned his hands, doing as you asked, "You look so sexy pregnant"

You had to roll your eyes even as the blush crept over your cheeks. He was never shy about his attraction to you, especially ever since you'd gotten pregnant with his baby.

You felt a sudden movement under his hands, a flutter of what felt like an arm moving, "Did you feel that?"

He nodded, "Baby is really moving tonight huh?"

"That reminds me," You hummed, closing your eyes again enjoying the moment as he pressed kisses under your ear, "We should really figure out a name"

"Jesse Jr." He responds without hesitation, suppressing his laugh against your neck, "JJ for short, works for boy or girl"

You smack at his arm. The conversation of names had come up multiple times throughout your pregnancy and Jesse wasn't much help, "I'm being serious"

"You always are," Jesse mumbled, now burying his face into the crook of your neck, "I'm not good at names"

You giggled, squirming against him as he nibbled at your skin, "How about—fuck"

A sharp pain erupted from the bottom of your stomach where Jesse's big hands were still holding you. It shocked you, causing you to jerk away from him and clutch his hand on the spot.

"What is it?" He rushed, loosening his hold on and moving in front of you in a flash, "Talk to me baby"

"Shit" You groaned again, squeezing your eyes shut as another wave hit you. "I-I don't know, I think something's wrong"

"We need to get you to the doctor," He said quickly, looking around like a lost child before gathering his bearings, "Shoes, we need shoes"

The panic hit you as he left you alone in the room. There's no way this was normal, you were still weeks away from your estimated due date. You moved to support yourself against the counter but stopped short at the sound that made your blood run cold.

In the quiet of the night, you heard the all too familiar ringing of bells. One after the other, echoing through the town.

Ding, Ding, Ding, Ding.

Four bells.

Four bells meant infected.

"Jesse" You shouted, voice shaking as you stumbled your way to the door, fighting the aching pain as best as you could. The house was still dark, but you could see the outline of his back as he froze, hearing the same bells that you had.

When he heard you hiss out in pain behind him, he spun around seeing you leaned against the wall as another wave of tightening came. He snapped out of it, pulling his other boot on before rushing to your side and dropping to his knees.

His hands were moving fast and shaking slightly as he lifted your foot and placed it in the slip-on shoes you'd managed to wear for the duration of your pregnancy, "I swear to god if this is another drill, I'll kill Tommy"

Bang.

A shot sounded over the repeating bells and you both turned towards the window just in time to see a sudden burst of a red light against the dark sky.

Flare gun.

"Definitely not a drill" You said through gritted teeth as he stood. Tommy would never waste flares on a drill, not with all the sightings in the area.

"-Fuck" Jesse suddenly yelled, heading for the hall closet where he kept his gun.

You opened the door, watching as your neighbors sprinted towards town. In the distance you could hear yelling over the bells, presumably from the men who were stationed on the walls.

"We have to go," Jesse was next to you in an instant with his gun strap hanging off his shoulder, putting his hand against your back and holding your arm as he helped you down the porch steps and into the street.

The cool night air hit you in the face as you tried to walk as fast as you could, which wasn't fast enough. The plan that Tommy had drilled into each member of the communities heads was playing through your mind:

Young ones and old ones get underground, basements or cellars and shelter in place until told it's safe to come out. Everyone else go up, rooftops and 2nd stories with guns. If there is a breach, stay off the main roads.

"You need to find Tommy" You managed, out of breath and fully halting your steps when another intense pain sliced through your stomach. You would've dropped to the ground if Jesse hadn't been supporting you.

"Not until I get you somewhere safe" He had to shout so you would hear him over the chaos and the bells getting louder as you entered the town center.

"Jesse—" You gripped his bicep, nails digging in as you attempted to manage the pain you were feeling, "You're his 2nd you should—"

"I'm not leaving you out here" He cut you off, suddenly pulling your arm across his back so he could support your weight better and get you moving again.

Your head was spinning by the time you were both standing in the middle of town, the gates were being barricaded, and everyone was rushing around you. Jesse had loosened his hold you, turning in all directions trying to come up with a plan for you. You would need a doctor in whatever shelter you were in.

Just as he moved to hold you up against him again, you were crying out and holding your stomach with both hands. There was a weird sensation between your legs and your thighs suddenly felt wet.

You reached your hand below the long shirt you wore and immediately felt the liquid that was dripping from your underwear.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

"Uh— my water just broke"

When you raised your wet hand up to show him, he could see how badly you were shaking. "It's okay baby—Listen to me," He caught your face between his big hands forcing you to look at him but you couldn't focus, on the verge of a panic attack, "We need to get you off the street, okay?"

You nodded, even though you could barely hear what he was saying over the heartbeat pounding in your ears. All you saw was the color draining from his face and the way his eyebrows were pinched together. He disappeared from your field vision for a second before you felt yourself being lifted up off the ground.

He took off running once you were secure in his arms, heading away from the gates. The jostling only making what you now knew to be contractions worse. You must've cried out again because Jesse was pressing his cheek to your forehead, holding you high and tight against him muttering, "I know, I know"

You heard Tommy before you saw him. He was yelling and panicked, moving across the street and pointing to the gates.

Jesse ran straight for him. Before he could say anything, Tommy was shouting at him, "Jesse, where the hell you been? I need you with me now!"

"The baby is coming" Jesse pleaded, looking to Tommy who had become somewhat of a father figure to him over the years, "I don't know what to do— where's the doctor?"

Tommy looked at you then, as if being snapped back to reality. Wrapped up in Jesse arms with tears running down your cheeks. He watched as your face twisted and you winced at another contraction, clutching your stomach. Then all at once he locked in, "Follow me, Maria took Ben to the cellar under the restaurant, she can help"

Suddenly, you were being jostled in Jesse arms again as he followed after Tommy. Past his head you could see the twinkling stars scattered all across the dark sky and the full moon that hung, shining down and lighting up the streets.

"How many infected?" Jesse rushed out, keeping up with Tommy as best as he could as they turned the corner.

"Too many"

Tommy's words hung in the air, amidst the chaos and yelling. You felt Jesse's fingers curl against you tighter.

Another contraction came and you balled the front of his shirt up in a fist, as you counted through it, just like Maria had taught you. He was breathing hard as they turned the final corner to the restaurant, "Just breathe through it, okay baby, just like we practiced"

You would've laughed if you hadn't been grinding your teeth together, pretty sure whatever practice you'd done would be useless at this point.

A horde of infected attacking the town was not exactly in your birth plan.

Before Tommy burst through the doors of the restaurant he was already screaming for Maria, who appeared at the doorway of the cellar toward the back of the building. She was ushering in the kids and elderly down to the cellar when her head snapped in the direction of her husband.

"Can you help?" Jesse asked, voice breaking as he approached her with you still gripping onto his shirt.

She didn't ask questions, only moved to the side so Jesse could enter. He moved down the steps carefully, clutching you tight to him. You could hear his heart beating in loud thumps against his chest.

The cellar was cold and damp, filled with people and crying children. Maria guided him as he lowered you to the ground, onto a mat that she had rolled out only seconds prior. You grunted in pain and the moment you left his grasp you were reaching out for his hand, squeezing it tightly as he knelt beside you.

"How far apart are the contractions?" She was talking to you now, coming to her knees at your feet.

"5 minutes" You say at the same time you feel Jesse's lips against the skin of your hand, echoing your words. You weren't sure how he had managed to count the contractions with you as all the chaos ensued around him, but it made you smile despite the pain in your abdomen.

Maria nodded, curtly as she moved your knees apart, "I'm going to take a look"

You were thankful that you'd only been wearing one of Jesse's shirts and underwear on this night, thinking of how much effort it would take to remove pajama pants in your current state. Her hands were freezing as she moved your soaked underwear down your trembling legs.

"This isn't what I had in mind—" You attempted to make a joke but your voice cracked, exposing just how scared you were.

Jesse brought his other hand down over your forehead that was slick with sweat and pushed your hair back.

"I know," He leaned down to press his lips against your skin, "It's gonna be okay, just breathe"

"This baby is coming" Maria spoke quickly, moving to kneel beside Jesse. "It won't be long now"

"What about the doctor?" You asked, eyes pinching shut as another contraction hits you. You cry out, digging your nails into Jesse's hand as he tries to comfort you through it.

"This baby isn't gonna wait for a doctor," Maria sighed, looking to Jesse, "I can deliver it but if there's any complications I don't know—"

"—We trust you" You breathed, opening your eyes and looking at the two of them at your side, "I trust you, Maria, please just help me"

It was all the confirmation she needed as she stood, instructing some of the women behind her on what she needed to assist you with this birth.

But you couldn't hear her, too distracted by the way Tommy was screaming for Jesse at the top of the stairs, "We need to go now, that horde is only a couple clicks out"

"I'm not leaving her" Jesse screamed back, running a hand over his face. The cellar became quiet aside from your heavy breathing and the sound of stairs creaking as more children filed in. Everyone knew Jesse was Tommy's right hand man, he'd earned the position after years of proving himself. To see them now, screaming at each other was shocking.

"Son, listen to me," Tommy must've moved down the stairs because he was louder now, "I know you want to be here but you can't help her"

Jesse had his full attention on you, as if he couldn't hear a thing Tommy was saying. But you could.

"He's right," Maria was back, moving beside Jesse and putting a rolled up blanket under your head as a sort of pillow, "You can do more out there"

He still didn't budge, only staring at you with his hand holding yours tight as his other moved up and down your arm, an attempt at calming you.

"Jesse, if those fuckers get in here we are all as good as dead," Tommy shouted, turning to head back up the stairs, "—including her and the baby"

He flinched at the words. His fingertips halting on your arm. The sounds of yelling and bells floating down the steps and echoing off the walls as Tommy ran out of the restaurant.

"Jesse" You whined, attempting to sit yourself up, only to be ushered back down by Maria.

"I'm staying right here," He moved his hands to your cheeks, wiping at your tears and speaking slow and clear to you, "I want to stay with you"

Maria had disappeared again, muttering about needing water and giving you some sliver of privacy in the over capacitated room.

"I'm scared and I want you to stay with me," You blurted out, feeling fresh tears slide past your red cheeks and collect on his fingers. You placed your hand on top of his as you winced, "—But I need you to go"

He shook his head incessantly, and you felt his thumb moving on your skin.

"Tommy's right—," You croaked, feeling your heart ache, "If you want to protect us, this baby, then you need to fight"

You moved your head slightly to get a grip on yourself, Jesse would never believe you if you kept crying the way that you were. You needed to be strong, to show him that you didn't need him; even if you did.

"There's no point in any of this if we all end up dead, right?" You attempt a light hearted laugh but your nerves have you choking back more tears instead.

He suddenly shifts on his knees moving in to press a kiss to your lips. It's desperate and feverish. As passionate as it could be in the moment, being in active labor. Your hand cards through his hair and you make a sound against his lips when you feel another shooting pain start.

"You've got a lot to fight for" You managed a smile, moving his hand to your stomach when he pulled away. "We'll be okay"

"I love you" He mutters, pressing another kiss to your lips and then again to your forehead.

"Don't die"

Jesse gave you a tight lipped smile as he stood up fully. He adjusted his gun strap on his shoulder, "I'll be back"

"She's in good hands," Maria was back, moving to your side again, nudging Jesse away carefully, "Go now Jesse"

He disappeared in a blink of an eye. You could hear him running up the stairs and the cellar door shutting behind him. The sound of the lock deafening.

"Okay sweetie, are you ready for this?"

•

In a matter of minutes, the town of Jackson was at war. From the cellar you could hear the muffled gun fire and yelling. You tried to focus as Maria checked you again, "It's almost time to start pushing"

The sound of firing was not helping your nerves especially knowing that Jesse was out there in the middle of it. Luckily, you had quite the distraction.

An older woman, Karen, was wiping your forehead with a damp cloth, trying to keep the fever that had developed away. On either side of your legs were two women who had recently given birth, holding your legs as you trembled.

"Maria I don't think I can do this" You cried, already feel exhausted despite not actively pushing.

"You can" She encouraged, gently moving your legs up so your knees were bent getting you in the right position, "You're already doing so good"

You squeezed your eyes shut, becoming ultra aware of the concrete floor and the pain spreading through your lower back. Any effort of grounding yourself ended the second Jesse went out the cellar door.

"Just remember to breathe—" She said, her voice soft, against the sudden sound of an explosion.

"What was what?" You say body lurching at the sound, but the women on either side of you, held you in place.

"Look at me," Maria spoke again, catching your attention, "Let's just focus on you and the baby right now okay?"

You nodded, propping yourself up on your elbows and gritting your teeth hard as another surge hit.

"I want you to listen to your body, it's gonna tell you when to push okay? We are going to let this happen naturally"

"This doesn't feel very natural" You groaned, throwing your head back.

"It's the most natural thing in the world" One of the women near your head cooed, giving you a sip of water.

"I don't know about that" You muttered, feeling like your body might split in two as the burning sensation intensified. "Nothing comes natural to me"

"Motherhood will"

You felt the tears falling again at the words of encouragement.

You'd never thought you'd be here.

Obviously not, currently here: in a cellar giving birth as your town is attacked by a horde of killing machines and your baby daddy is in danger of being ripped apart or infected.

But in general.

You'd never thought you'd make a good mother, the thought of having children never even crossed your mind. When you first showed up in Jackson you were a broken, scared girl. You'd done and experienced things on the outside that haunted you, even to this day. You swore you would never curse another being with living in this fucked up world and you'd never let your guard down again. It was something you held onto even as the cramped trailer pulled into the heart of Jackson.

You had managed to keep to yourself for all of five days before you were introduced to a particularly tall guy who immediately struck you as a good guy.

And not one of those guys who pretends to be a good guy to get what they want or to impress someone, but a genuine good guy. You admired him.

Cut to a couple months and many patrols later, you'd decided that you liked Mr. Good Guy. You liked his dorky jokes and the things he'd taught you about life. He easily jumped over all of the remaining walls you had left standing until there was nothing left to hide.

Life was good.

Mr. Good Guy finally made a move on you after months and months of subtle hints and flirty banter. And the relationship snowballed from there.

The two of you had talked about children and babies in casual manners. Jesse enjoyed volunteering as a coach for the limited amount of sports that Jackson offered, finding fulfillment in creating bonds with the young generation and being a role model. You'd go along and watch him in his element as kids jumped on his back and giggled at his jokes, stomach fluttering at how much of a natural he was with them.

You'd never been that way with kids, even after being settled into Jackson for as long as you had.

Often times he'd bring it up after the two of you had sex, lying sprawled out with you on his chest and heaving heavy breaths. Hypothetical questions and what ifs. It surprised you that he even pondered the idea, but then again Jackson was safe and lot of members were having babies.

You'd been rocking the pull out method for the entirety of your relationship and it worked like a charm, but you'd learned it wasn't always the best method considering you'd fallen pregnant after about eight months of dating.

You didn't bother trying to hide it, you couldn't after you realized you'd been about 2 months late. You had experienced some nausea and vomiting but assumed it was a stomach bug that you couldn't kick and Jesse magically avoided. With the hustle and bustle of Jackson and all the tasks you just simply not noticed when you didn't bleed.

Jesse had came into the house after a long day on patrol and found you curled in a ball on the bed, hysterically crying. He held you, trying as best as he could to calm you down. And eventually you did. Hours later you were curled up against him on the bed while he played with your hair and peppered you with kisses. He validated your fears and listened intently as you articulated your feelings about the situation. He had talked about the future in a way that made you feel hopeful. That night as he drifted off to sleep with his arms wrapped tight around your frame, the realization hit you that you didn't mind having a child as long as he was with you on the journey.

Of course, now, in present day you were alone. And the gunfire had yet to cease. And you didn't know if Jesse was alive or dead.

You screamed out as you pushed, feeling like hours had passed and time was dragging on. You were doing as Maria said, listening to your body but it proved difficult as the pain was nearly too much to bare.

"I want Jesse" You cried for the 15th time as the labor progressed, clutching the arms of the women who had joined to help, "I can't do this without him"

You were exhausted and the dusty air in the cellar was wearing on your lungs.

"I know sweetie," Maria was between your legs, popping her head up to coach you. When she appeared this time she rubbed your shaking knees, "And I know it hurts but you're almost there, give me two more big pushes, okay?"

You screamed again, bearing down and pushing hard, so hard that your head began to spin. If you weren't currently writhing in pain you might've felt bad for all the other people in the cellar having to listen to you.

"Push, push —"

Another scream came as you continued to try before falling back onto the small amount of padding behind your head, "–fuck, I can't"

"You have to" Maria shouted, trying to be calm but failing due to the stress, "I can see the babies head, just two more really big pushes"

You groaned trying to reposition yourself as you caught your breath, feeling a tiny hand slide over your right hand that was clutching tight to the blanket.

When you rolled your head to the side you could see Ben, Maria and Tommy's son, was sitting criss cross apple sauce beside you. His too big superhero pajamas enveloping his little body as he gave you a sweet smile.

You couldn't remember if he had been there the whole time, but he was there now, present in the moment and squeezing the top of your hand twice before picking up your hand and making you hold his little one.

"You can squeeze my hand as hard as you want, I'm strong like the hulk" His little voice calming you in a way you didn't expect. You nodded at him through the heavy breathing and another shooting pain.

He watched, eyes wide as you cry out again, the contractions trying their best to coax you through this last stage. You gave his hand a small squeeze, one that you could control and watched him beam with a smile, "See, it's doesn't hurt me"

You're sure you looked crazy smiling at him, sweat and tears keeping your face red and wet.

"Okay babe, here we go, let's do this" Maria coached again, voice shaking slightly.

You did as she said, actively remembering that your right hand was holding a small child's and using your left hand to dig into the adult woman's hand.

Another scream echoed through the cellar and you were panting like a dog by the time it was over. "Give me one last big, big push girl you got this—"

You sobbed in response, quite literally feeling like you may rip in two if you make one more move. The gunfire still echoed from above and you felt helpless.

What if Jesse is dead? What if the infected get in here and everyone dies? What if there's no point in any of this?

At this point Maria's voice felt miles away. And you felt like you were going to pass out from the exertion.

You moved to look at Ben again who was holding a Batman action figure, old with the paint fading and cape torn, clearly well loved in its years before the infected came. His little hand wavering slightly as he held him out to you.

"Batman can help"

Did you believe the 5 year old? Of course not. Did you take Batman in your sweaty hand and squeeze him anyway? Fuck yes.

"I need you to give it your all"

Your all was given about an hour ago when you started pushing. But still you beared down again, grinding teeth and sharp breaths sending spit flying onto your shirt. You clutched tightly to Batman and squeezed your eyes shut.

You were screaming so loud that you couldn't hear when Maria was talking again, you had thrown your head back again, gasping for air when you heard the glorious sound.

The smallest little cry that erupted made the room go quiet. The chatter of others silencing as a collective sigh was released.

You brought your hand up to your face, crying freely against it as you listened to the sound. A sound that you never thought would bring you so much comfort.

Two of the women helped prop you up against a crate with the blanket behind you as Maria appeared at your side, "She's beautiful"

A girl.

She had her wrapped up in a dark blanket, as she motioned for you to take her. When she transferred the baby to your arms you finally got to look at her.

She was covered in birth, bloody and white pieces stuck in her little black hairs. She was small but she looked healthy with chubby little cheeks. Her little fingers were spread, moving slowly as she became accustomed to being outside of you.

"Hi there pretty girl," You cooed, crying right along with her as you held her up to your chest, rocking ever so slightly, her whimpering continuing, "I know, I know"

You pressed your chapped lips to her small head, humming quietly as the women around you helped Maria and got you more comfortable as you delivered the placenta. But you barely noticed, too wrapped up in your own world.

"What's her name?" Ben asked, still sitting beside you on the floor, leaning over slightly to look at the new baby without getting in your space.

"I dunno" You let out a euphoric sigh as you counted her fingers and toes,"What do you think?"

"Well—" He started without a second thought, moving to his knees and leaning carefully against your shoulder to get a better look, "What about Batman?"

"Ben—" Maria started as she cleaned you up, rolling her eyes at her son, but you cut her off, smiling at the little boy.

"I don't know if her daddy will like that name very much" You adjust slightly so he can get a good look at her face, "Is there another name you can think of?"

Ben giggles, bringing his finger to his chin in a mock thinking position, "What about Robin?"

Your heart jumped at the name, you'd heard it before.

"Who's Robin?"

Ben took a breath, surprised at your little-to-no knowledge of superhero's, "Robin is Batman's side kick, he's brave and strong and has superhuman agility—"

It was also the name of Jesse's late mother. Of course, you had never met her but Jesse had told you countless stories. You couldn't believe you'd never thought about the name before.

"I love that name Ben" You cut him off from his spiel of Batman and Robin lore, reaching out and handing him the Batman toy that you had forgotten after the final push.

"Do you think Jesse will like it?" Ben was leaving your side to jump excitedly near his mom who had just covered you with a blanket after cleaning you up.

"I think he will love it"

•

Hours passed and there had still been no one to come and say that it was safe to come out. The gunfire was spread out now, every couple of minutes a new shot ringing out. No one inside the cellar could figure out what that meant.

You focused on the baby, successfully getting her to latch with some help from Maria. It felt so natural having her there on your chest that you had a hard time remembering any of the pain you'd just gone through.

You smiled to yourself, leaning your head back against the wall as your eyes became heavy, blinking a couple times to awake yourself up.

"You did great momma," Maria praised, pushing the hair back behind you as she crouched down, behind her Ben was playing with Batman next to a kid with a toy car, "You should get some rest"

"No I'm okay," You shook your head as if it would fling the drowsiness away, "I wanna stay awake until Jesse is back"

"I know," Maria couldn't hide the pity in her eyes as she looked over you and the baby. She knew how you felt, not knowing if Tommy was okay or not, "How about you just rest your eyes?"

"Promise to wake me when they're back?" Eyes already closing as you positioned yourself to lean against a crate as you held the baby.

You were drifting off before Maria could even respond.

•

When you woke up again you heard hushed voices and the cellar was much quieter than before you'd fallen asleep. You moved carefully, feeling the baby breathing against your chest.

When you opened your eyes you saw Ben jumping around the now empty cellar, not a care in the world. He was talking louder than the others, telling a story about Batman saving the day.

Your eyes shot open as you realized everyone was gone. When you leaned up you could see Maria, Tommy and Jesse.

Jesse.

He had his arms crossed over his broad chest, fingers drumming nervously on his skin as he listened to Maria talk.

He must've heard you move against the crate because he was leaving the married couple and rushing to your side.

As he came into full view you felt a sense of pure relief wash over you at the sight of him so close again. He set his gun down on the ground before crouching down in front of you.

"Hi" He breathed, eyes locked on you before falling to the blanket in your arms.

"Hey"

"Are you okay?" His hand slid against your cheek, cradling your face. You leaned into it, feeling the warmth in the otherwise cool cellar.

You nodded, pursing your lips as you sat up slightly, still feeling a little rough. You glanced at him as he moved to sit at your side. He watched intently as you pulled the blanket down exposing the face of the tiny human.

"You did so good" He gushed, reaching out to touch her tiny hand, before looking to you and pressing a kiss to your severely chapped lips, "You're amazing"

His doting always made you feel like a love sick teenager. But now, the way he admired you and the baby, it made your heart soar.

"Jesse, do you wanna hold your daughter?"

"Daughter?" He blinked, absorbing what you said, staring at the baby in your arm before looking back to you. You nodded, tears pricking your eyes as you watched him hold his arms out.

When you set her in his arms he nearly melted against the wall, moving carefully to get her cozy against him.

You didn't have to coach him on how to hold her, Jesse was an expert on holding babies, making visits to little newborns whenever Tommy announced a new birth in the town.

For the first time since you'd given birth to her, your hands were free and you were able to sit up fully next to him.

"Hi baby," He whispered, rocking her ever so gently, "My girl, it's nice to finally meet you"

You were able to fully look at him without the distraction of the baby in your arms. He looked like hell and smelt of smoke. The shirt that he'd been wearing when he came downstairs so many hours before, was now torn with a large hole near the bottom. His hair was messy and he had new cuts and bruises across his visible skin.

Tommy and Maria appeared in front of you two, watching fondly as Jesse cooed to her.

"You did good kiddo" Tommy smiled, reaching out to ruffle your already messy hair. He looked just as rough as Jesse, blood stains on his flannel shirt and a slight limp when he walked. "She picked one helluva night to come"

"I couldn't have done it without Maria" You smiled, leaning back against the wall next to Jesse so you could peer over at your baby.

"A girl born under a full moon and an attack of infected," Maria hummed, with Tommy's arm draped over her, "This one will keep you on your toes"

You smiled at that, forgetting that all those hours ago that you saw the full moon up on the night sky.

There was a moment of silence that fell in the cellar and you glanced up the stairs where the sun was peeking through the windows of the restaurant and spilling down into the room.

"How did we do?"

Tommy opened his mouth to respond before Jesse was stopping him, looking up at him and then to you, "I'll tell you all about it later"

It was Jesse's way of not ruining the moment. Your moment. He just wanted to enjoy this.

"What did you name her?" Jesse asked, changing the subject as she began to move her fingers around his thumb.

"Oh—Oh!" Ben suddenly entered the conversation, running at full speed across the cellar floor to Jesse, before Tommy caught him and picked him up off the ground, "Can I tell him?"

"Yes Ben, you tell him" You smiled, bringing your hand to Jesse's bicep and impatiently waiting for the little boy to speak.

"So you know Batman right?" Ben asked, hanging from his father's shoulders as he spoke.

Jesse nodded, looking between you and the kid with a puzzled look. Probably wondering what Batman villain Ben had talked you into.

Penguin? Poison ivy? The joker?

"Well he has a sidekick, his name is Robin and he goes around helping Batman fight al—"

Jesse's head snapped to you, finally piecing it together as Ben continued to talk, now hanging upside down from his father's grasp.

"Really?"

"Really," You smiled, cheeks growing sore at the motion. "After your mom"

"—and Batman's sidekick" Ben hollered as Maria and Tommy moved up the stairs to give you some privacy.

You shook your head, giggling at the little boy before you turned back to Jesse who was staring at you with a look you didn't fully recognize.

"What's wrong?"

"I should've been here," Jesse sniffled, moving his head in the other direction where the bloody blankets lay in the corner, "You were scared and you needed me here—"

"You kept us safe" You insisted calmly, hand rubbing slowly on his arm, noticing a large bruise forming that you would ask about later, "All that matters is that you're here now"

He looked back at you, tears staining his cheeks as he continued to cradle Robin in his arms. You didn't let him speak again, worried he would continue to beat himself up. Instead you moved in to kiss him again, tasting the saltiness of his tears as his lips moved against yours.

The kiss covered everything that needed to be said. The fear, the regret, the happiness.

You giggled against his lips when the sound of Robin fussing echoed around the room.

"She's very talkative" You pressed a kiss to his neck before turning your attention to her as Jesse rocked her, falling perfectly into dad mode.

"She's perfect" He sighed, admiring her features as he run a light finger over her forehead.

"She is," You moved closer to rest your head against his shoulder, both of you staring down adoringly at the little one, "I can't believe she's ours"

He rested his head against yours, a sound of complete relief falling from his lips.

"Oh and by the way, that thing you read about orgasming during the pregnancy is false"

"Huh?" Jesse chuckled, looking up from Robin.

"You know, when you said orgasming would help with labor or whatever," You lifted your head to look at him, "It didn't help, like at all"

"Oh—" Jesse's eyes got big as he realized what you were referring to, "I never read that anywhere"

"What?" You laughed, smacking at his leg as to not disturb your baby.

"I just like eating you out"

The library smelled like dust, lavender scented bookmarks, and the faintest trace of magic. Likely from the enchanted floorboards groaning beneath stacks of books. It was quiet, just the way it should’ve been…but that silence didn’t last long.

Not with them inside.

“Okay but why is everyone suddenly attractive?” Kija muttered, twirling her pen between her fingers as she slouched in a beanbag that had absolutely no right being this comfortable. “It’s like summer break was a fairy tale curse, and now everyone’s out here looking like magazine models.”

Across from her, Sora blinked slowly, sipping her iced cinnamon tea through a straw as she held up her schedule. Her newly dyed rose gold hair shimmered beneath the overhead light, the soft glow enhancing the delicate features of her quiet expression.

“I noticed,” she said softly, then returned to highlighting something in pink.

“Girl, you dyed your hair and stepped on our necks,” Seori said, flipping her dark waves over one shoulder, her hip tattoo barely visible beneath her crop top as she lazily stretched. “We’re gonna have to put a bell on you. The men will not survive.”

“She really said shadow fae and main character,” Jiyoon added, looking like an actual menace with her new nose piercing, twirling it playfully. She was currently on Da-eun’s lap for no reason other than the fact that Heeseung wasn’t back yet, and she needed physical contact at all times.

Clingy hoe, but Kija still loves her.

Da-eun rolled her eyes, having chopped her black hair to her sharp shoulder length cut that made her look like she could command a rebellion with one glare. “I had to fight off a senior who asked me what dorm I was in. I think I growled.”

Kija snorted. “You definitely growled.”

The girls all laughed.

Kija’s fingers brushed through her now natural black curls, no longer the signature ocean blue she’d been known for the past few years. Let them be shocked, she thought smugly. Sirens evolved and she had every intention of being the hottest version of herself this semester. She had swam so much this summer her beautiful dark skin looked like light loved her resting on her skin as if it belonged there.

They were gathered in their usual corner nook, a spot tucked near the back with plush chairs and zero rules. Their schedules were spread across the low table, half highlighted, half forgotten.

No one was studying. They were catching up.

“Did you guys hear that two witches got caught trying to enchant the vending machines to give them free unlimited soda?” Seori smirked, already digging into the gossip.

“They deserve freedom,” Jiyoon said solemnly, sipping on an espresso shot she’d smuggled in.

Kija tapped her pen on the table. “Anyone hear from Da-euns chaos twin?”

Everyone groaned at once.

“I saw Ni-ki earlier,” Sora murmured, “He tried to convince a professor to let him take an entire potions class via dream projection.”

“Did it work?” Da-eun asked, clearly not even surprised.

“He’s suspended already,” Sora answered with a small shrug.

“Love that for him,” Jiyoon smiled proudly, “That’s my brother-in-law.” 

Seori leaned over to bump shoulders with Kija. “You know who hasn’t been seen? Your mortal enemy.”

Kija blinked. “Sunghoon?” Well she wouldn't say he's her mortal enemy, but he wasn't her best friend either. She felt very neutral about the pretty boy the longer they all were in the same friend group.

“Enemy?” Sora tilted her head.

“You mean crush,” Jiyoon said without missing a beat.

“I do not...” Kija began, but they were already howling.

Da-eun smirked. “The way you’d rather strangle him than say good morning tells me all I need to know.”

“Whatever,” Kija waved a hand. “He probably spent summer in a crypt, practicing how to frown harder.”

“Or ignoring the fact that he’s also glowing this semester,” Seori mumbled dramatically. “I’m not saying he got hotter, but...”

“...he got hotter,” they all finished together.

It was all too true. Park Sunghoon looked the part of the perfect pure blooded vampire. Pale, tall, perfect features, condescending, rude, blunt. But none of that took away from the fact the man had to be the hottest male in the supernatural realm.

They were chaos and comfort, loud and soft, bonded by bloodlines, battles, and a shared instinct to destroy anyone who broke their circle.

A group of unbothered icons and one very, very smug siren.

As they laughed, whispered stories about summer, and plotted how to survive their new semester schedule, Kija leaned back and exhaled.

She didn’t say it aloud, but it felt good to be home. There was no place quite like this academy.

If Sunghoon had to describe the first day of the semester, it would be annoying.

The heat. The noise. The creatures that whispered like they had never seen royalty walk the halls before.

He kept his gaze forward, boots silent against the marble as the Seven moved in perfect sync, the crowd parting like the sea before them. Vampires, shifters, fae, witches all pausing mid conversation to stare.

Whispers echoed like gnats in his ears.

“They’re back.”

“Did you hear about the suspension?”

“I heard they took down the Headmaster last year.”

“Ni-ki literally dyed someone’s hair white, no wait...that was his mate.”

“They’re untouchable.”

They were right.

And Sunghoon didn’t give a single damn.

He kept walking, sharp brown eyes scanning ahead as he adjusted the cuffs of his black uniform jacket. The silver clasp at his throat gleamed under the sunlight streaming through the stained glass windows.

He was unreadable.

Unbothered.

Until they reached the stairs.

Until they saw them.

Sunghoon’s pace slowed just enough that the others noticed.

Heeseung, always at his side, frowned. Jay tensed. Jungwon’s head tilted with interest. Jake’s brows furrowed. Ni-ki’s expression was already shifting toward murder, and Sunoo clicked his tongue in silent distaste.

Because someone was sitting in their seats.

Their seats.

The last row, top of the spiral staircase amphitheater. A perfect vantage point, theirs since freshman year. Claimed through blood, intimidation, and sheer authority.

Now?

A pack of cocky looking shifters lounged there like they belonged.

Eight of them. All tall, broad, wearing that same stupid smugness that made Sunghoon’s jaw tighten.

Heeseung’s voice was low. “Tell me they’re lost.”

“They’re not,” Jungwon said flatly.

Ni-ki cracked his knuckles.

Sunghoon didn’t say anything. He simply walked forward, eyes locked onto the group. The room, already filled with buzzing energy, turned silent.

The shifter alpha noticed the shift in atmosphere, turned his head and smirked.

“I don’t see your names on the chairs,” he said lazily, reclining back and spreading his arms along the seat tops.

Wrong answer.

Before anyone else could speak, Sunghoon’s voice rang out low, controlled, freezing. “Move.”

The alpha tilted his head. “I don’t think I will. Maybe it’s time someone put you elitist vampires in your place.”

A mistake.

A very big one.

Jungwon exhaled. “Guess we’re doing this now.”

The moment the shifter stood, Sunghoon moved. Blinding speed. A punch to the gut, sharp and clean. The alpha reeled, snarled, claws half-shifted but then Jay was there, grabbing one by the throat and slamming him to the wall. Jake tackled another, slamming him over a table. Ni-ki laughed maniacally as he yanked one off their chair by the ankle.

It was fast. Brutal. Efficient.

Blood splattered.

Sunoo appeared behind one with a grin that could kill, whispering something in his ear before driving a boot into his spine.

Sunghoon didn’t waste time. The alpha swung, but it was sloppy. Sunghoon ducked, twisted, and drove his knee up into the guy’s stomach before kicking a perfectly placed blow to the sternum.

The shifter flew. Crashed into the professor’s desk with a shattering noise.

The professor, who had just walked in, paused mid step.

Sunghoon fixed his jacket calmly as the alpha groaned from the floor below. Then, as one, the Seven climbed the final steps and settled into their seats.

Sunghoon crossed one leg over the other, folding his arms as if nothing had happened.

Silence.

Until Ni-ki leaned over, grinning ear to ear. “Should’ve left a nameplate.”

Sunghoon didn’t respond.

But the small curl at the corner of his mouth? That said enough. And for the remainder of the lecture, the shifters sat slumped and bruised refusing to look back.

The hallway split in two the moment the Seven turned the corner.

It always did.

Creatures of all kinds pressed against the walls like a wave had pushed them there. Some held their breath. Others bowed their heads. A few brave idiots tried to meet their eyes and instantly regretted it.

Sunghoon didn’t blink. His boots made no sound on the marble floor, movements precise and fluid like water frozen in motion. Around him, his brothers walked with the same measured grace. A perfect unit. Shadows trailing behind them.

They didn’t speak. They didn’t need to.

And when they entered the lunchroom, the air shifted.

People scattered before them like dry leaves. Chairs scraped. Conversations died in the middle of their laughs. Eyes widened.

Because someone, several someones, were sitting at their table.

Their table.

But it wasn’t strangers.

It was worse.

It was them.

The five girls lounged casually, drinks in hand, laughter echoing off the walls like they owned the place. Jiyoon, Seori, Da-eun, Sora.

And Kija, the afro-russian princess. He almost scoffed...princess, yeah right. More like demon.

The siren was perched on the end of the bench, one golden leg crossed over the other, black skirt riding high on her thigh like she didn’t care, hair sleek and shining under the light. She was sucking on a cherry red lollipop, full lips glistening, eyes lazily half lidded as she laughed at something Jiyoon said.

Sunghoon stopped walking. Just for half a second. A breath. A blink.

She was...glowing.

His heart kicked once. Annoyingly loud in his chest.

No.

Not this year.

He looked away blank, unreadable but not before catching the way her tongue circled the lollipop. Of course it was cherry. Of course she’s doing that in public. Of course she looks like that.

He cursed internally and shoved his hands into his pockets.

The others weren’t as composed.

“What the hell Da-eun!” Ni-ki’s voice cracked, pointing at his mate with betrayal. “You cut your hair?! And you didn’t tell me?!”

Da-eun snorted, flipping her short hair over her shoulder. “Surprise.”

Heeseung was already leaning over Jiyoon’s shoulder, fingers tugging playfully at the little silver stud in her nose. “This is new. And hot. Very hot.”

Jiyoon just smirked and pushed him lightly, though her cheeks tinted pink.

Jay gave Seori a long look, lips twitching. “Tattoo, huh? What is it? Where is it?”

“Don’t talk to me,” Seori replied sweetly, popping a grape into her mouth. “Ever.”

Jake whistled, staring at Latina who was avoiding his eyes. “Your hair…”

“Say anything and I vanish,” Sora warned without even looking up.

The Seven filed in around the table like magnets locking into place. The rest of the lunchroom cautiously resumed breathing. Jungwon was already bickering with Da-eun, Sunoo poking at Jiyoon’s drink, Ni-ki sulking dramatically beside Da-eun.

But Sunghoon?

He sat directly across from Kija. And the second their eyes met, her lips popped off the lollipop with a wet little sound.

He nearly flinched.

She tilted her head, innocent and wicked. “You’re staring.”

“I’m not.”

“You were.”

“I’m not now.”

She just smiled, slow and knowing, and put the lollipop back in her mouth with a smirk.

His jaw tightened. He looked away again, fists curling under the table.

She was a siren. Of course she knew how to toy with people. It was in her blood. But that tug in his chest, that twinge of something ancient and dangerous that wasn’t just biology.

He knew it. And he refused to care. Distractions were weakness. He wouldn’t fall.

Even if she looked like sin and smelled like sea salt and the horizon after a storm. Even if his chest ached when she laughed. Even if that damned lollipop should be illegal. He stared at his tray like it had done something wrong.

“Hot day, huh?” she said innocently, eyes gleaming.

“Don’t,” he muttered.

“Don’t what?”

“You know what.”

“Do I?”

He clenched his jaw.

And she laughed.

Oh, he was so screwed.

The path to the little enchanted shop was quiet, the stones beneath their shoes humming faintly with old magic, vines curling lazily along the lamp posts. The late afternoon sun spilled through the trees, casting golden shadows on the cobblestones as Kija and Sora walked side by side.

Well, Kija walked with her naturally swaying hips. Sora...floated. Quietly.

The shadow fae girl moved like a whisper, her new rose gold hair pulled into a low braid that shimmered under the light. She was hugging a thick black satchel to her chest, eyes flicking around with a calm detachment, almost like she was looking through the world rather than at it.

“I’m going to hex him,” Sora said softly, as though discussing the weather.

Kija blinked. “Who?”

“That third year ogre. The one who said my shoes looked ‘handmade by a blind sprite.’”

Kija stopped walking.

Sora did too.

“What?” the older girl turned fully, mouth open in offense. “You have the cutest shoes on campus.”

“I know.” Sora said it with a deadpan calmness. “That’s why I’m making a potion. I want his eyelashes to fall out one by one. It’s symbolic.”

Kija threw her arm around Sora’s shoulders immediately, tugging her into her side with a grin. “I love you. So much. I’m making you brownies tonight.”

Sora allowed the affection with a soft ghost of a smile. “Make them chewy.”

“Always.”

They kept walking.

The little store was tucked at the end of the row, its sign dangling from a crooked wooden post: Elliot’s Enchanted Essentials. It sold everything from crystal infused pens to sleeping potions to cursed friendship bracelets. The bell above the door jingled when they stepped inside.

Sora made a beeline for the shelves of vials and herbs in the back.

Kija wandered a little slower, her fingers trailing along an enchanted snow globe that showed a dragon dancing on a mountain.

“She’s mad,” Kija muttered to herself fondly, watching Sora grab things with the ferocity of a vengeful librarian.

And then of course Sora turned back to her, eyes calm as water. “Speaking of mad...Sunghoon.”

Kija smirked instantly, leaning back against the shelf like she had time. “What about him?”

“He looked like he was going to combust yesterday when you ignored him.”

“He probably was.”

Sora’s eyes narrowed. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

Kija’s smile widened, sharp and slow. “No, baby. I’m playing the right game.”

The shadow fae blinked. “You’re serious about him?”

The siren didn’t answer at first. She looked down at her long nails, casually inspecting a chip in her black polish. “You know sirens don’t smell scent the way you all do, right?”

Sora nodded.

Kija looked up. “So why the hell can I smell his icy mint scent like it’s tattooed to my brain?”

A slow pause.

Sora froze. “...Shit,” she whispered. “He’s your mate.”

Kija grinned. “He is. Has been. For a while now. Since last spring, I think.”

“Does he know?”

Kija shrugged. “Probably not. He’s been denying himself anything resembling affection for the last decade. That man could see a soulmate mark carved into his hand and still be like, ‘must be allergies.”

Sora snorted.

Kija continued, “But you know how I knew for sure? My powers don’t work on him.”

Sora blinked.

“Not even a little. And they work on everyone. Male, female, banshee, vampire. Doesn’t matter. Except him.” Her voice dropped into something softer, still edged with amusement. “He doesn’t know yet, maybe he does. I don't know. But he will. I’m going to break him this year.”

“You’re terrifying,” Sora whispered, eyes big.

“I know.”

“You’re...kind of amazing.”

“I really know.”

They both smiled at the same time. A rare thing for Sora, who melted more into shadows than people.

But around Kija, she seemed to always bloom a little. As Sora turned to pay for her potion ingredients, Kija pulled out her phone and texted Da-eun one sentence: Place bets. How long do you think it’ll take for Sunghoon to kiss me like he’s starving? Then she glanced at her reflection in the store’s glass eyes lined dark, lips still stained from her last lollipop and said to herself quietly, “He’s already cracking.”

In the soft glow of the dorm’s kitchenette, nestled beside an open window that let the scent of herbs and night air curl into the room, Sora was hunched over a tiny black cauldron.

Her hair was tied back in a velvet ribbon, her face dusted with iridescent magical freckles that only appeared when she was hyperfocused. She was adorable absurdly so, her brows slightly furrowed, lower lip caught between her teeth as she added a drop of shadow oil and a pinch of something glittery from a vial labeled don’t sniff this.

Kija leaned back in her chair with a lazy grin, propping her combat boots on the table while munching on a sour candy. Across from her, Seori was twirling her illusion infused pen and giving Sora a look of pure amusement.

“She’s literally the deadliest among us,” Kija said with a mouthful. “And look at her. Looks like a murder kitten.”

Techincally it was true, Seori, and Sora were the deadliest seeing as they had nearly endless magic. But when it came to the ocean, that was were Kija dominated, her own killing grounds. It was just pure nature, didn't make her evil.

Seori grinned. “She’s like if a storm cloud decided to knit.”

“I can hear you,” Sora mumbled without looking up.

“We know,” they said in unison.

Kija's smirk widened. “Hey, speaking of deadly and adorable…”

“No,” Sora said instantly.

Seori gasped. “You don’t even know what I was going to say!”

“Jake,” Sora muttered.

Kija nearly choked on her candy. “Oh, she knows. That means she’s guilty.”

“I am not.”

“Sure you’re not,” Seori said, leaning forward. “Then explain why you and Mr. Golden Vampire Sunshine have been inseparable since last spring?”

Kija rested her chin in her hand, eyes gleaming. “Even during summer break. I asked you to come stay with me and Jiyoon for a week, and you were like, ‘Sorry, I’m with Jake.’ You might as well have sent a selfie with matching shirts.”

“We didn’t have matching shirts,” Sora grumbled.

“So you’re admitting you were with him.”

“I never denied that.”

“Oh, honey,” Seori teased, “just admit you have a crush.”

“I don’t.” Sora said it again, this time louder. “I don’t have a crush on Jake.”

Both Kija and Seori paused. And then, “Yeah right,” they said in sync.

Sora finally looked up from the potion, her light brown cheeks a soft pink, but her tone sharp as steel. “Seriously. He’s not like that. He’s...” Her voice faltered, but only for a second. “...he’s my brother.”

Silence.

Kija blinked flabbergasted. “...What?”

Seori frowned. “Like, vampire brother? Coven bond?”

“No,” Sora said, straightening her posture and finally looking them both in the eye. “Like, blood brother. Half brother. Same papá. Different mamá.”

Another pause.

Kija’s boot fell off the table, “What the actual hell, Sora!?”

“When were you going to tell us?” Seori gasped, sitting upright now.

“I wasn’t. It’s not like it matters.”

“Not like it matters?” the sirenshouted. “Babe, that’s the plot twist of the year! What do you mean?”

Sora turned back to the potion, but her hands were shaking a little now. “We found out over the summer. It was a long story. Our...our father had two families. Mine was hidden. Classic shadow fae mess.”

Kija slid off her chair and crouched next to her, her voice softer now. “You okay baby?”

“I’m fine. We’ve been hanging out more since we found out. Jake’s good at being a brother. Better than I expected.”

Seori’s expression softened too. “That’s why you’ve been glued to him.”

“Yes,” Sora mumbled. “Not because I like him like that. Asqueroso”

“Well that makes sense,” Kija said thoughtfully. “But I do have a very important follow up question.”

Sora tilted her head.

“Then who do you actually like?” Kija's grin returned with full force. “Because I know there’s someone. You disappear every time they all walk into a room.”

Sora froze like someone had hit pause on her. Jake and Sunoo were always together, and if Sunoo showed up, Sora was gone. 

Seori gasped. “Wait…no. It’s not, Sunoo?!”

Sora didn’t answer. Just turned back to her potion like it was the most fascinating thing in the world.

Oh shit! Kija looked stunned. “You like Sunoo?”

Sora turned bright red, “Shut up!"

“Oh my god. Shut up!” Kija and Seori screamed like fangirls at a concert.

“I’m going to curse you both,” Sora hissed, but the red on her cheeks was unmistakable now. “You can’t say that name in this room again.”

“Say it three times and he appears,” Kija teased.

“Like magic,” Seori whispered.

Sora chucked a vial cap at them.

Kija juat grinned, unbothered. “I knew something was up. You never use your powers unless he’s around.”

Sora rolled her eyes. “He’s not my mate. He can’t be. Its a dumb crush. It doesn’t matter.”

But Kija, ever the siren with a sixth sense for attraction, leaned in with a knowing smile. “Maybe not yet. But something’s brewing, and it ain’t just that potion.”

The council room was silent, humming with power that clung to the air like frostbite.

Seven thrones made of bone and obsidian curved along a crescent dais, each etched with markings as old as their blood. And in the center, seated with elegance and an aura that made most beings shrink, was Jungwon. Leader of the Seven.

Sunghoon sat two thrones to the right of him, long legs stretched out, ankle resting on one knee as his fingers tapped rhythmically against the armrest. He looked bored. He was. But the way his sharp eyes scanned the room said otherwise. He missed nothing.

The council chamber was full today. Representatives from various species stood before them, shifters, witches, high fae, even a celestial. All here to plead their causes, deliver reports, kiss ass, and waste time.

Until it happened.

Jungwon was mid-sentence, voice calm yet commanding as always, when a girl, one of the newer witch interns from the coven’s lower ranks cleared her throat and spoke over him.

"Actually, I think the information from the East.."

Silence. The oxygen left the room. Sunghoon’s gaze flicked sideways, amused. She did not just but she did.

Jungwon stopped speaking. His chin tilted slightly, and his lashes lowered like a blade coming down. His voice was ice wrapped in velvet. “Your name?”

The girl faltered, paling instantly. “L-Leah. Of House-”

“Don’t care,” Jungwon said sharply, standing. “For the insult you’ve just committed, I hereby curse your tongue, your house, and your next six bloodline heirs.”

The girl collapsed before she could scream. Gasps rippled through the chamber as guards in silver plated armor rushed in, dragging her limp, unconscious body out by the arms.

Sunghoon didn’t laugh. He never did. But his lip curled in satisfaction. That’s what you got for interrupting a sovereign vampire lord.

Ni-ki, however, muttered, “Dumbass.”

And Heeseung just chuckled under his breath. “One bloodline down.”

The council was quickly dismissed after that no one dared to stick around longer than necessary. One by one, the species filtered out, heads bowed.

Until it was only them. Alone in the hollow, echoing chamber where shadows kissed every corner and the thrones felt more like weapons than seats.

Sunghoon was just about to stand when Jake cleared his throat and stepped forward, hands in his pockets, looking unusually hesitant. “I, uh got something to say.”

Jungwon arched a brow, back relaxed now that the public show was over, “Then speak.”

Jake exhaled. “Sora’s my sister.”

The words dropped like an axe.

Sunghoon’s head turned slowly, “What?”

“You’re joking,” Jay said flatly.

“Wait what?!” Sunoo squeaked, nearly falling out of his chair. “Jake?! What the hell do you mean Sora’s your sister?!”

Jake scratched the back of his neck, suddenly looking less like the prince of charm and more like a guilty teenager. “Found out over summer. Same dad. Different moms. Apparently, our dear vampire father dipped into a fae village and...yeah.”

Ni-ki stared. “Holy shit.”

Heeseung stood slowly, whistling. “Guess the bastard was keeping secrets.”

“She’s a shadow fae,” Jungwon said calmly, but his eyes were narrowed. “How did your mother not know?”

“She didn’t. Neither did I.” Jake shrugged. “But she’s mine now. Family. And I’m telling all of you now because if anyone even breathes wrong around her, I’ll rip their spine out and use it as a chandelier.”

A thick pause took over the room.

“You didn’t tell me?” Sunoo cried, genuinely offended. “I’m your best friend! Your bro! Your....We braided hair together when we were ten, you emotionally constipated son of a bitch!”

“...What?”

“Nothing!” Sunoo huffed, crossing his arms.

Sunghoon finally stood, running a hand through his black hair. He wasn’t easily rattled, but this? This was something.

Sora. The quiet one. The ghost in the wind. That one girl who barely talked to these guys and could turn herself into literal smoke.

Jake’s sister?

He blinked once, lips twitching ever so slightly. “So she’s not in love with you.”

Jake blinked. “What?”

“You two acted close,” Sunghoon said, voice cool. “I assumed...”

“She’s my sister, man!”

“That’s why you were always trailing after her like a puppy,” Ni-ki snorted.

“Shut up,” Jake muttered.

Heeseung laughed. “This is golden. I need a blood sushi and popcorn.”

“Why do you sound relieved?” Jungwon asked Sunghoon, studying him too closely.

“I’m not,” Sunghoon said flatly, already walking toward the door.

But he was. A little. Maybe.

Because now, the little shadow fae with rose gold hair and razor words was no longer a mystery threat.

Sora was now family.

And Sunghoon was starting to realize that this year? Was about to get a lot more complicated.

It started with a laugh.

That smooth, honey wrapped chuckle that curled around every ear within hearing range and made the weaker ones blush. Kijas laugh could unmake a man’s pride, and that afternoon in the enchanted courtyard behind the student lounge she was practically spinning gold with it.

Her thick thigh was crossed over the other, skirt riding just a little higher than necessary as she twirled the bright red lollipop between her fingers, tongue flicking lazily over it every now and then like a bored cat toying with its prey.

Across from her, a tall male merman Ren, broad shouldered and beautiful in that annoying beach god kind of way was practically melting in his seat. His light teal hair shimmered under the late sun, and his gills pulsed slightly under his collar as she leaned closer.

“Oh come on,” Kija purred, voice dipped in sugar and venom, “you seriously believed that rumor? That I cursed a professor because he gave me a B?”

Ren laughed, rubbing the back of his neck, “Well, you are the most terrifying siren on campus. I figured you could make a man drown in his own coffee if you wanted.”

She mock gasped, placing a delicate hand on his arm. “Please. I’d at least let him finish his muffin first.”

They both laughed again.

And someone across the courtyard was about to explode. Because the icy mint scent that always lingered somewhere near her was now practically punching through the air.

She didn’t look.

Not yet.

But she felt it. Like frost climbing the back of her neck, sliding into her spine. Park Sunghoon.

He was watching her.

She could feel it in the prickling of her skin, in the way her core temperature dipped slightly despite the warm breeze. Sirens didn’t feel temperature changes but around him, she swore she could feel a blizzard inching closer with every second.

Still, she continued.

She laughed, she twirled her lollipop, and when Ren reached forward to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, she tilted her head with a purr.

Let him suffer.

That’s what he gets for pretending she didn’t exist. For walking past her in the halls the last few months with that cold gaze, pretending he didn’t feel the bond snap between them every time she brushed near him.

He wanted to act like he didn’t care?

She’d give him something to not care about. Then it happened.

She finally looked.

Turned over her shoulder subtly, the lollipop clicking against her teeth as her eyes scanned the outer edge of the courtyard and landed on him.

Park Sunghoon.

Standing like a statue from hell. Lean, broad shouldered, dressed in all black like a walking grudge. His eyes those glacier borne daggers, were locked onto her like he could burn through her bones if he tried hard enough.

She didn’t flinch. She just smiled. And raised one perfectly shaped brow.

Do something.

He didn’t. But he did turn.

With a sharp twist of his shoulder, he pivoted on his heel and stormed off, boots crunching against stone as his scent trailed behind like frozen wrath.

Kija hummed to herself, content.

“Everything okay?” Ren asked, blinking.

She swirled her lollipop once more and smiled brightly at him. “Peachy.”

But deep down?

She was already counting the steps it would take to bring her mate to his knees. He could run. He could glare.

But Park Sunghoon was hers. And by the time she was done? He would be begging for her to bite first.

The clang of metal echoed through the mansion’s underground gym, sharp and brutal as the barbell slammed back into place.

Sunghoon didn’t pause. Didn’t even break a sweat.

He moved like a machine, chest heaving, arms flexing under the pressure of his next set, veins raised and pale skin gleaming with sweat. His jaw was clenched so tight it could snap. His eyes were locked on the mirror in front of him, but he wasn’t looking at himself.

Not really.

He was seeing her.

Kija.

That lollipop sucking, sharp tongued, arrogant big headed siren who had been all over some other bastard not even an hour ago. Her fingers brushing that guy’s arm, her giggle so melodic it echoed like a curse in his skull. She had looked at him. Not Sunghoon, him. Some sea drenched fuckhead who wasn’t even worth naming.

Sunghoon grunted and dropped to the floor, throwing himself into a set of push-ups so violently the floor creaked under him.

His fists hit the mat like punishment.

She’s not yours.

She is.

That annoying voice, the pull, the bond whatever the hell it was. Was back again, mocking him in the depths of his mind. Whispering like a devil at the back of his neck.

Yours. Yours. Yours.

“No,” he spat through gritted teeth.

He didn’t need this. Not now.

Not with his father clawing at his life like a disease. Not with expectations laced around his throat like a leash. He was the oldest son of one of the oldest covens in the world. He had responsibilities. He had power to uphold, and a future to map out with perfect angles and sharp lines.

There was no room in it for a siren who smelled like the ocean and chaos and temptation all wrapped into one. No room for a mate who made him want to tear through every wall to get to her.

And yet every time she walked into a room, his whole world shifted.

Every time she smiled at someone else he saw red.

Every time she popped that goddamn candy in her mouth, he wanted to rip it out and replace it with his fingers. His mouth.

His fangs.

No.

He slammed his fists into the floor again and growled.

No vampire had ever been mated to a siren. Their kinds weren’t supposed to bond. There were rules for a reason. Their blood was dangerous to vampires. Their auras too alluring. What if he bit her and it hurt her? What if it killed her?

What if he lost control?

He didn't want to find out.

Yes, you do.

He growled again, rolling onto his back, his chest rising and falling with restrained fury.

She was a distraction. That was all she was.

With her stupid confident smirks and her too knowing eyes and the way her scent wrapped around him even when she wasn’t near. She always smelled like the sea, like waves and wreckage and home and it pissed him off more than anything.

Because deep down, some part of him already knew. She was his. And that terrified him more than anything.

Three days later the air was thick with laughter and magic, buzzing with that familiar energy that always seemed to follow her.

Kija again.

Sunghoon’s jaw flexed so tight he thought his fangs might pierce through. His steps echoed like gunfire down the marble halls of the academy as his eyes locked on the reason for his unraveling.

She was walking ahead, looking radiant as always, long coils of black hair swaying, lollipop tucked between her lips. But what made his blood boil wasn’t the soft sway of her hips or the glitter of amusement in her eyes.

It was the boy beside her.

A vampire.

A low-tier. Weak bloodline. Not worthy of her time.

And yet her arm was looped with his. Her laugh rang out, flirtatious and light, as if he didn’t exist at all.

Sunghoon had passed her before. He had seen her flirting, heard her teasing words, watched her bat her lashes and smile with lips that should’ve only ever been aimed at him.

But this? This was too much.

His vision clouded. His breath came in sharp, slow exhales like he was holding back a scream. His control, already razor-thin, snapped.

Before he knew what he was doing, he was in front of her.

“Let go,” he snapped at the male, whose face paled instantly.

The boy scrambled away without a word.

Kija raised a brow lazily, dragging the lollipop from her lips, red-stained and gleaming. “Well, if it isn’t Mr. Ice Prince himself.”

Sunghoon grabbed her wrist.

The moment his skin touched hers, a mistake.

A huge mistake.

His fingers jerked back like he’d been scorched, the heat lashing up his arm like wildfire. His pupils dilated. His chest caved in on itself, something inside him pulsing like a war drum.

Kija blinked, amused and curious. “Hmm. Finally figured it out?”

But he didn’t answer. He didn’t breathe. He just snapped.

“You need to stop.” His voice was a snarl, sharp enough to cut steel. “The flirting. The games. The desperate little parades through the halls.”

She tilted her head, slow and siren sweet. “Desperate?”

“You heard me.”

He took a step closer, even though his whole body screamed at him to step back. His hands clenched at his sides, trembling with fury. With fear.

“I don’t want you,” he hissed. “Not a siren. Not someone who parades herself around like a prize to be won. I’m not like those other bastards who drool at your feet. You’re not mine. And I don’t want you to be.”

Her smile fell. The temperature in the cramped closet plummeted. Her eyes, once playful, glinted with something far colder. Deeper.

“Get over yourself, Park Sunghoon,” she said, voice laced with venom. “You’re not that hard to figure out.”

But he didn’t stay to hear more.

He slammed the door open and stormed out, fists clenched, breath ragged, running from the truth he just shattered between them.

He had touched her.

And it nearly destroyed him.

The ocean breathed like it knew her pain.

Waves rolled in steady rhythm against the jagged rocks below the academy cliffs, foaming like whispers and vanishing as quickly as they came. The salt in the air clung to Kijas skin, tangled in her dark hair like memories she couldn’t shake.

She sat cross-legged on the smooth edge of a flat boulder, right where the earth dipped low beneath the cliffs. Her lollipop sat discarded beside her, forgotten.

Barefoot, dress pooled around her thighs, she didn’t move when she heard footsteps.

Not at first.

She didn’t need to look to know it was them.

Sora. Seori. Jiyoon. Da-eun.

All silent.

They didn’t announce themselves or try to cheer her up with stupid jokes or magical distractions. They just sat. One by one, surrounding her with quiet presence, waiting until she was ready.

She blinked at the horizon, chest rising and falling like it was hollowed out.

“He said he didn’t want me.” Her voice cracked the stillness like a ripple. “Said I looked desperate. That he didn’t want a siren.”

The words came out sharper than she expected.

A deep breath. Then another.

“I wasn’t even flirting that hard,” she muttered, lips pressing together as tears pricked her eyes like a storm brewing over, but she refused to cry. Not for him. Not for Park Sunghoon.

“And maybe I was trying to get a reaction but not like that. Not to be told I’m unwanted. That I make a fool of myself.”

Her hands fisted around her dress. “I thought maybe since he couldn’t be affected by my siren powers, maybe it meant something. I knew he was mine. I just didn’t know I was so unworthy of being his.”

There was a pause before Seori asked, soft and careful, “Are you really going to give up?”

“I’m just doing what he asked.” her eyes didn't leave the ocean. “I’ll leave him alone. I’ll stop playing games. Stop trying to make him look at me.” Her voice grew smaller. “He doesn’t want me. So what’s the point?”

Sora made a quiet sound of protest. “Angel…”

“It’s fine,” she lied. “I mean,” she exhaled with a hollow smile, “I can always go for a swim, lure a few men to their deaths. Get the self esteem back up.”

Sora’s lips twitched, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

No one spoke after that.

Instead, they shifted closer. Seori leaned her head onto Kija's right shoulder, and Da-eun took the other. Jiyoon plopped onto the grass beside her and rested her cheek on Kija's thigh. Sora silently curled against her back like a shadow.

They didn’t say it’s going to be okay.

They didn’t say he’ll come around.

Because they knew. Knew what it meant to feel that bond but they didn't know what it felt like to be rejected.

Though they all knew the ache of being unwanted when your soul called someone home.

So they said nothing. They just stayed.

And kija? She didn’t cry. But the ocean—it mourned for her.

-

Kija didn’t look at him. Not anymore, not after days of silent pain. She didn’t speak to him. Didn’t breathe near him. Didn’t so much as glance in Park Sunghoon’s direction.

And it was killing him, though he hadn’t realized it yet.

The auditorium buzzed with excitement. The start of year presentation was a big deal. It always was. Teachers lined the stage in formal wear, discussing this year’s upcoming sponsor banquets, charity galas, and end of term council selections.

But she didn’t hear a word.

Not really.

She sat in the center row, middle of the girls, arms crossed tight over her chest and her gaze fixed on the stage yet empty.

Emotionless.

Her eyes had shifted. Those usual siren hues, mischievous and taunting, alive with play and sharp wit, were gone.

Now? They were slits. Cold. Ancient.

Like the ocean during a storm. Unforgiving.

A reminder of what she was. Of what she could become.

Jiyoon and Da-eun flanked her on either side. Their presence was comforting, grounding. Da-eun leaned her head against Kija's shoulder at one point, and she didn’t move away.

Sora, in all her gentle silence, sat at her feet curled up like a cat beside a shadow, softly whispering now and then to her brother Jake behind her.

Jiyoon occasionally passed notes back and forth with Heeseung, and Da-eun whispered something into Ni-ki’s ear that made him grin.

But the rest of the girls?

Quiet. Watchful.

And they never left Kija's side.

Not once.

She didn’t realize she was gripping her skirt until Seori gently laid a hand on her wrist and eased her fingers apart. Kija blinked and exhaled through her nose, nodding.

She was fine.

She was…managing.

In the auditorium, seated two rows up in the raised section for elite council members, the seven of them watched.

They didn’t speak about it but they noticed.

The way the girls huddled together like a wall of protectors around their siren. The way Kija never once looked toward their side of the room.

Not even when Sunghoon walked in late, all ice and shadow, silently taking his place beside Jungwon.

Not even when Jake waved at Sora, or when Heeseung smiled at Jiyoon. Not even when Da-eun whispered something and the other girls giggled lightly.

The siren just sat there. Staring forward.

She didn’t feel angry anymore.

Just…empty.

Hurt in a way that sat low in her stomach, like a weight that wouldn’t lift.

She had meant it when she said she’d leave him alone. And the truth was, she was grateful she didn’t have to go through this alone.

Jiyoon. Da-eun. Sora. Seori. Her girls. Her sisters. Not by blood, but something stronger. Something deeper. They didn’t try to make her laugh. Didn’t tell her he would change. They just stood by her.

And that was more healing than any magic or kiss or apology could ever be.

She let her eyes close just for a moment, steadying herself.

Let him have his distance.

She’d already drowned enough for one lifetime.

The auditorium had been packed. Too loud. Too bright. Too full of whispers and hormones and the scent of blood, perfume, and power.

But at the top row, where the seven of them sat like kings on their thrones, it was quiet.

Sunghoon hadn’t said a word since they arrived.

He hadn’t said much for days, really.

Arms folded, legs stretched out, his icy stare locked forward with an expression that could freeze lava. Even his aura crackled with tension sharp and bitter, like frostbite waiting to spread.

The others didn’t dare poke the bear.

Except Jay. Always Jay.

He leaned forward, casually elbowing Sunghoon’s arm, dark brows lifting with a smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Alright, Ice Prince. What’s your problem? You’ve been glowering like someone stabbed your favorite blood bag.”

Sunghoon didn’t respond for a beat. His jaw ticked.

Then, without looking at any of them, he muttered, “Her.”

The others exchanged looks.

Her?

Jay blinked. “You’re gonna have to narrow that down, pretty boy. There are a lot of hers on this campus.”

Sunghoon tilted his chin, and for the first time since they sat down, his eyes flickered not to the stage, but two rows below them.

And there she was.

Kija.

Looking unbothered. Beautiful. Gone.

Sora was curled in her lap like a sleepy kitten, her head tucked under Kija's chin. The girls surrounded them like a fortress, shoulders brushing as they whispered among themselves. Even their silence radiated power.

Sunghoon’s gaze never left her.

And the six of them followed it.

Realization hit like a silver bullet.

“She’s your mate?” Heeseung asked, his voice dropping in shock.

Sunghoon nodded once. Rigid. Miserable.

For a second, there was joy.

Ni-ki let out a soft whistle. Jake leaned in, grin forming. Even Jungwon’s usual cold exterior cracked with something like approval.

But then Sunghoon confessed his sin.

“I rejected her.”

Silence.

The auditorium buzzed around them like white noise, but in their row, there was only stillness.

Then chaos.

“What the fuck did you say?” Jungwon’s voice was low. Lethal.

“I said—”

He didn’t get the words out.

Jungwon was on him in seconds. Vampire speed. Fangs bared.

One hand slammed against Sunghoon’s chest, the other gripping his throat with crushing strength. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“Jungwon!” Jay shouted, standing.

“Let me go,” Sunghoon snarled, fangs flashing as he grabbed Jungwon’s wrist but the coven leader didn’t budge.

“You rejected your soulmate,” Jungwon seethed, “and didn’t tell us? Didn’t give her a chance Are you insane? Do you even know what that does to a bonded mate over time?!”

Sunghoon’s confusion faltered just enough for panic to bloom.

Sunoo was the only one who moved, slipping forward and grabbing Jungwon’s shoulder with surprising force. “Enough!” he hissed. “You’ll crush his windpipe.”

“I should,” Jungwon growled, still not letting go. “She could die, Sunghoon.”

Those four words hit harder than any punch ever could.

Sunghoon froze.

His heart stuttered.

“…What?”

Jake stepped forward now, teeth gritted, fury etched in every line of his face. “You think this is a game? Rejection doesn’t just hurt it destroys. She’ll feel it in her bones, in her blood. It’ll spread until it kills her from the inside out. The pain gets worse over time unless she’s claimed, unless you...”

“I didn’t know!” Sunghoon exploded. He shoved Jungwon off, chest heaving, hair falling into his eyes. “I didn’t know! No one told me that shit!”

“That’s the first thing every bonded creature is taught,” Heeseung snapped, stepping between them now. “And if you missed it, maybe you shouldn’t have been so busy playing perfect fucking prince!”

“Don’t you think I would’ve done something if I knew?!” Sunghoon’s voice cracked not in weakness, but in raw rage. “You think I want her to die?! I’ve been going insane since I met her. My father, he told me no distractions. That I had to be perfect. No mates. No weakness. If I bond with her, I’ll never be able to protect her from him. He’ll use her. Hurt her. I was trying to keep her safe!”

“You rejected her to protect her,” Jungwon repeated, voice dark and cold. “How noble.”

Sunghoon glared at him, muscles taut. “I don’t need your sarcasm right now.”

Ni-ki sighed, the quietest one until now. “You need something. Because right now, she’s bleeding inside and you’re standing here justifying it.”

“Have you even looked at her?” Jake added, arms crossed tightly. “She’s…not the same.”

“She doesn’t even look at us anymore,” Sunoo said softly. “She doesn’t look at you.”

That shut him up.

Silence settled again.

And then Heeseung, ever the voice of reason, stepped forward. He placed a hand on Sunghoon’s shoulder, not hard, just firm.

“Listen to me,” he said. “I fought mine. You saw what happened. I became bitter. Violent. Until I snapped and nearly killed someone.”

Jiyoon’s name was on his tongue, but he didn’t say it.

He didn’t have to.

“You don’t get better without them. You only get worse,” Heeseung said. “She’s not a distraction. She’s your anchor. And you’ll never reach your potential without her.”

The room fell into silence again.

Sunghoon looked down at his fists, his pulse pounding in his ears. In the bond. In the hollow place where her voice used to echo, even if it never actually spoke.

He hadn’t known.

But now he did.

And if Kija died because of him.

He’d never forgive himself.

Not even if the world did.

He didn’t think.

Didn’t pause.

Didn’t knock.

The second the meeting was over, Sunghoon had stormed from the council room, moving with inhuman speed. Past students. Past professors. Past reason.

His only thought was her.

The bond was screaming now ragged and howling inside his chest like a living thing. It coiled around his ribs, throbbed behind his eyes. He could feel her pain, even before he reached her dorm.

But nothing prepared him for what he saw.

The door swung open easily, unlocked, unwarded and Sunghoon froze in the doorway.

She was on the floor. Curled in on herself. Shaking. Panting. Crying.

It was the sound that gutted him. Not her crying. But how silent she was while doing it.

No sobs. No screams. Just broken little gasps as she trembled like a flame in the wind. Sweat beaded her brow. Her body was tense like she was fighting something no one could see.

He crossed the room in two long strides and dropped to his knees.

“Kija-ah!”

He scooped her into his arms, the scent of her tears and blood hitting him all at once, like drowning in heartbreak. Her skin was cold, but not like his. Cold from the inside out.

She didn't fight him. Didn’t even speak. Just collapsed against him, forehead tucked beneath his chin, fists gripping the front of his shirt.

Sunghoon carried her to the small velvet couch in the corner of her dorm and sat down, holding her in his lap like she was made of glass and ash and pain.

Her breaths slowed. Her trembling eased. The longer he held her, the quieter the bond became, the less pain.

But then she pushed him away. Gently, but with finality. She moved off his lap like his touch had scalded her and sat at the far end of the couch, curling her legs under herself, not even looking at him.

His voice was a whisper. “…I’m sorry.”

Nothing.

“I didn’t mean it, what I said to you-”

“You did.” Her voice sliced through the air, quiet and sharp.

“You said I looked desperate. That I was a fucking siren, and you didn’t want me.” Her head turned slightly, just enough for him to see the shimmer of tears on her lashes. “You called me cheap without ever saying the word.”

“I was trying to push you away,” he snapped, standing now pacing, angry with himself. “I thought I was doing the right thing-”

“The right thing?” she bit out, finally standing too. “You could’ve just ignored me. But you touched me, dragged me into a closet like I was yours and then humiliated me.”

“I wasn’t thinking!”

“Exactly!” she yelled, eyes glowing. Siren eyes. Glacial slits of pain. “You weren’t thinking. You were cruel.”

He stared at her. She stared back.

And then, the words broke out of him like a curse:, “If I hadn’t come tonight you would’ve died.”

She flinched.

“I felt it,” he continued, voice shaking. “You were in agony. The bond was shredding you from the inside out. I-I didn’t know it would be like that. No one told me. And now I can’t take it back.”

“You can’t,” she whispered, arms crossing. “And it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not!”

“Yes, it is!” Her voice cracked raw and bitter. “Because at least I’m not lying to myself anymore. You never wanted me. I was just the wrong kind of soulmate. A distraction. A fucking siren who wore pretty dresses and licked lollipops like she didn’t know any better.”

“Stop.” His voice was low. Dangerous. “Don’t do that.”

She kept going. “You told me I looked pathetic. You said I made myself look desperate-”

“I didn’t mean it!” he roared. “I was angry and scared and I-I hated how much I wanted you!”

“Then you should’ve walked away like a man instead of tearing me down like a coward!”

Silence.

Their chests rose and fell. Rage and pain bleeding between them.

Finally, she stepped back toward the door and opened it. “You should go.”

“Kija”

“No.” Her voice shook. “I’d rather die from the bond than play pretend in some half love with a vampire who hates himself more than he could ever love me.”

“Get the hell out, Sunghoon.”

His heart cracked.

She didn’t scream. She didn’t cry. She just looked at him like he’d broken her.

And maybe he had.

He opened his mouth. But nothing came out.

So he left.

And the sound of the door slamming behind him felt like it echoed straight through his soul.

"Asshole," she muttered behind the door, and Sunghoon heard it.

Because he was.

And now, she knew it too.

The room was buzzing with noise, shifting chairs, laughter, trays clattering, but at their table, the air was heavy. Unmoving.

Kija sat in the middle, arms crossed on the surface in front of her, chin resting atop them. Her black hair once wild and shimmering like the ocean waves, was now neatly tied back, hiding the soft slope of her neck. No lollipop. No smirk. No teasing spark in her eyes.

She hadn’t said much in days.

Across from her, Sora and Seori had abandoned their untouched lunches, heads buried in an ancient, thick Book of Fae Spells, its pages yellowed and marked in glimmering silver ink.

“Something…something has to be here,” Seori muttered, flipping another page with a swift wave of her finger.

“She’s in pain,” Sora whispered, barely loud enough to hear. “There has to be something that can slow the bond’s decay. Just slow it. That’s all I want…”

But there wasn’t.

Every page read the same warning: “A soulmate rejected shall suffer a dying bond no cure, only completion or collapse.”

“I can’t…” Sora blinked rapidly. “I don’t get it. We’re fae. We can fix things. We can fix everything-”

She suddenly stopped mid sentence.

Kija slowly looked up.

Sora’s shoulders were trembling. And then, like someone had shattered her with a single breath. Sora burst into tears.

Loud. Guttural. Heartbreaking sobs.

It was the kind of grief only the fae knew deeply emotional, ancient, and raw. It stole the breath from the air, silenced every creature nearby.

Chairs scraped.

Gasps echoed.

And before Kija could even react, Jake appeared like a ghost in the wind. One second the table was still, and the next, Jake was beside Sora, his arms immediately pulling her to his chest as she collapsed against him, fists clutching his black hoodie, face buried in her brother’s neck.

“I’m here,” Jake whispered, holding her tighter. “I’m here, sora baby, I’m here.”

On the other side of the table, Sunoo and Jay had joined in a heartbeat. Sunoo crouched, his hand hovering as if afraid to touch Sora without permission.

Jay looked between Kija and the spellbook, confusion morphing into fury as he connected the dots. “What happened?” he demanded.

Seori slammed the book shut with trembling hands, eyes sharp and glowing as she stood, looking dead at them. “I’m going to murder Park Sunghoon.”

Jay blinked. Sunoo straightened.

Kija’s lips parted, but she didn’t speak. She just watched Sora cry into her brother’s chest, heart burning. The sight made her throat close.

“I’m sorry,” Sunoo said suddenly soft, genuine. “We didn’t know he rejected you until recently.”

Jay cleared his throat. “We’re sorry, Kija-ah.”

Still, she said nothing.

The whole table was watching now. The cafeteria, the campus everyone knew something had happened. But they didn’t know the truth.

And Kija wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction.

Because this wasn’t about drama. It was about loss. Her bond, her self-estem, herself.

Jake gently pulled his sister away from the table, whispering reassurances only she could hear. Her cries had softened to hiccups now, eyes red, fingers still gripping his hand like an anchor.

Sunoo followed them, hand on her back.

Jay paused looked at Seori, but she turned her face away.

He left.

Kija remained sitting in that same spot. The book still in front of her. Her friends beside her, quietly placing hands over hers.

No magic.

No spell.

Just the warmth of love.

And the bitterness of a bond still breaking.

The student lounge was dimly lit, golden sunlight filtering through the enchanted windows that stretched across the far wall. The furniture modern, lush, and far too expensive matched the cold hush that always followed wherever the four of the Seven walked.

Sunghoon sat in one of the long velvet chairs, arms crossed, jaw tight, eyes locked on the fire burning in the hearth across the room. He hadn’t spoken much today.

Not after the argument.

Not after her voice rang through his skull all night like a haunting lullaby.

Jungwon lounged across from him, fingers tapping against his thigh, clearly waiting for something to break. Heeseung leaned back, watching Sunghoon closely but silently. And Ni-ki...well, Ni-ki looked like he was fighting the urge to throw something just to break the unbearable quiet.

Sunghoon wasn’t focused on any of them.

His mind hadn’t left her.

Her shaking voice, her burning eyes, the way she curled away from him like he was a curse.

And he was.

The double doors slammed open.

Everyone turned.

Jake stormed in first, his jaw clenched, dragging in a cloud of cold wind behind him. Sunoo followed, visibly fuming, lips pressed in a hard line.

Jay entered last behind Sora.

The quiet, delicate, rose gold haired fae.

But this was not the Sora they knew.

Her eyes were glowing, her magic radiating in hard pulses from her skin as she stomped across the room like a storm bottled in a girl’s body. Her petite frame was trembling, fury leaking from her like waves.

And Sunghoon stood. Before he could speak—

BAM.

Her small fist struck his chest.

Not hard. Not painful.

But filled with rage. With betrayal.

“You bastard!” she screamed, striking again. “How could you?!”

He flinched but didn’t stop her.

“Do you even understand what you did to her?! Huh? HUH???”

Sunghoon swallowed. His throat burned. “Sora...”

“Was she just a game to you?!” she shrieked. Her voice was sharp as broken glass. “Was her love something to mock?! Were her feelings beneath you?!”

He didn’t speak. He couldn’t. Because no. No, they weren’t. But he had treated them that way.

“You’re her mate!” she sobbed, her voice cracking as her fists slowed. “You’re her mate and you said all those things. You made her cry, Sunghoon. You made her hurt.”

Her fists fell limp.

He reached out.

But she jerked back and looked up at him with shattered fae eyes, glass and stars and heartbreak.

“I thought you were better than this,” she whispered. “But maybe you’re just like the rest of them. Cold. Cowardly.”

Jake stepped in, gently wrapping an arm around her shoulders. Her chest heaved as her face crumpled.

And then she said it.

The words no fae ever said unless they meant them with their entire soul, “I hate you.”

Sunghoon’s breath caught. His body stilled.

Those three words punched through his ribs and shattered something inside him. Something that had been holding him upright. Something he didn’t know was fragile until it broke.

Before anyone could stop her, before even Jake could blink she was gone.

A puff of rose gold smoke.

Sunghoon stared at the space she had just stood in, barely breathing.

“You should’ve never let it get this far,” Jake said sharply, stepping forward, anger rippling through him like fire. “She almost died. She still could.”

“Do you even understand the damage you’ve done?” Sunoo growled, arms crossed tightly, expression cold.

Jay’s jaw was locked, his tone quiet but sharp. “You told us it was your father, Sunghoon. That you had no choice. But don’t you dare hide behind that anymore. That girl loved you before she even said it out loud. And she would’ve protected you.”

“I—” Sunghoon opened his mouth but nothing came out. Not a single defense.

“Fix it,” Jungwon said suddenly, rising to his feet. His eyes were filled with storm clouds. “Fix it, or you don’t deserve her.”

Heeseung finally spoke, low and quiet from his chair, like the words cost him to say. “We’ve all done bad things, Hoon. But hurting your mate? That’s the kind of thing you carry forever if you don’t make it right.”

Ni-ki muttered something under his breath. “I should go check on Da-eun…she’s crying too.”

The doors closed behind him.

And Sunghoon remained standing in the middle of the lounge, frozen in the space where Sora had broken in front of him.

“I hate you,” she had said. And even though it wasn’t from her, he felt like the one who should be disappearing into smoke.

The tires of Sunghoon’s black car crunched across the long gravel path leading to his father’s estate an ancient, sprawling fortress built before the academy even existed. Stone walls wrapped around the perimeter like a cage, cold iron gates standing tall and grim in the cloudy morning light.

It wasn’t a home. It was a tomb.

He parked with slow precision and stepped out, coat catching in the wind as he shut the car door and walked toward the front entrance without hesitation. The guards nodded, stepping aside as if they already knew he’d be expected.

Of course he was.

Sunghoon never visited unless it was important. And this, this was the most important moment of his life.

He walked through the pristine marble hallways in silence, boots echoing against the polished floor. Everything was exactly as he remembered. Pristine. Cold. Unfeeling. Like the man who raised him.

The office doors were already open.

“Father,” Sunghoon greeted with calm, clipped formality.

His father looked up from the ancient tome on his desk. Lord Park the vampire patriarch himself was tall, straight backed, dressed in tailored black like he always was. His eyes were dull silver, lacking any warmth.

“Sunghoon,” he said, voice smooth but razor-sharp. “I didn’t expect you.”

“I need to talk to you,” Sunghoon said evenly, stepping inside and closing the doors behind him. “About my mate.”

His father’s mouth barely twitched. “What about her?”

“She’s a siren,” Sunghoon said plainly.

A pause.

Then a laugh. Cold and low.

“Of course she is,” the man said. “A pathetic creature drunk on attention. One of the weakest of the magical races. You were always too soft.”

Sunghoon didn’t flinch. “She’s not weak.”

“She’s a liability,” his father said. “You want a future? You want legacy? Then you cut her loose and return to your senses. Stay here. We’ll refocus your training. There’s power for you to inherit. Property. Status. All yours. But not with her.”

Sunghoon stared at the man who had trained him like a soldier since childhood. Who had demanded silence, perfection, cold obedience. Who’d taught him to flinch at warmth and scorn love like it was rot.

“Is that it?” he asked. “Those are my choices?”

His father stood now, voice stern, unyielding. “You walk out of that door, and you’re no longer my son. You’ll be disowned. Cut off. You’ll have nothing.”

Sunghoon blinked once.

Then…he smiled. It was small. Calm. Dangerous.

“I’m a vampire,” he said. “I’ll never have nothing.”

He turned without another word and walked to the door.

“Sunghoon,” his father called. “You’ll regret this.”

He paused with his hand on the handle.

“No,” he said. “I regret not doing it sooner.”

And then he opened the door and walked through.

Out of the estate.

Out of his father’s world.

Out of the prison he’d been raised in.

Because what good was legacy without freedom?

What good was bloodline when his real family sat in the dorms, in the school, on the cliffs laughing under the stars waiting for him to come back and be better?

He would make it right.

With her.

With them.

He had one heart, one name, one chance to make this real.

And this time, he wasn’t wasting it.

Kija lay curled on her bed, one arm slung over her stomach, the other gripping the edge of her comforter. The ache inside her was growing, not just physically but spiritually her very soul pulling apart at the seams. Her chest burned, and her bones felt too heavy to move.

The mark of rejection was cruel.

And she had been trying so hard to ignore it.

A sharp knock echoed in her dorm, and before she could so much as sit up straight, the door burst open.

Him.

Sunghoon.

She blinked through a haze of sweat and pain. “Go away,” she rasped, voice hoarse. “I said go-”

“I’m not leaving,” he said, voice low, panicked, desperate. “Not this time.”

She looked away. She didn’t want to see his face didn’t want to see the one thing her soul wanted but her mind couldn’t forgive.

“You’ve said enough,” she whispered. “Haven’t you?”

“I haven’t said anything that mattered,” he shot back, stepping inside. “Let me talk. Please.”

She was too weak to fight him.

So she sat there, trembling, glaring at the wall, while he paced across her room no longer the cold hearted ice prince everyone knew, but a man unraveling.

“You want to know why I rejected you?” he said, voice cracking. “Because my father raised me to believe that love is weakness. That mates are burdens. He trained it into me like a fucking mantra.”

She didn’t speak, didn’t move.

“He’s hated me for being soft, and I’ve spent my whole life trying to be his perfect son. Until you.” He ran a hand through his hair, pacing like a caged animal. “Until I saw you and felt this pull I couldn’t control. It scared me.”

She finally glanced up, her eyes rimmed red. “So you told me I made you sick.”

His face crumpled.

“I know,” he whispered. “And I’ll regret that for the rest of my life.”

He dropped to his knees in front of her bed.

“After I left you that night, I drove to my father’s estate. I stood in front of him and told him the truth, that you’re mine. That I don’t want his power or his name if it means living without you. He disowned me. Told me I was dead to him.”

Her breath hitched.

“I don’t care,” Sunghoon said. “Because I can’t lose you. I don’t care if you can’t forgive me yet, or if I have to spend years proving it. But please, let me bond with you. I need you to live. I need you, Kija.”

His voice dropped to a whisper.

“I love you. I have since I first saw you with that dumb lollipop in your mouth and that smug little smirk. I love your voice, and your fire, and your ridiculous games. I’m in love with all of it.”

Kija felt the heat of tears sting her eyes.

She didn’t want to die. But she didn’t want to be hurt again either.

“I’m not going to mate with someone who only just realized they wanted me,” she said quietly. “Not unless you prove it.”

“I will,” he swore. “Every single day.”

She stared at him for a long time. Then slowly very carefully she reached out and touched his hand.

“Help me up,” she murmured.

He did, with infinite care, guiding her gently off the bed and toward the kitchen. He lifted her with strong arms and set her softly on the kitchen counter, keeping one hand on her hip, as if to make sure she wouldn’t tip over.

His other hand brushed the hair from her neck.

“Are you sure?” he whispered, voice timid.

She exhaled shakily. “Just do it.”

Sunghoon leaned in.

And then, with the softest press of his lips against her skin, he opened his mouth and let his fangs pierce the place where her heartbeat was weakest.

Her breath caught, then just as quickly pain vanished.

Gone.

Like it had never existed.

Instead, a flood of warmth rushed into her chest, into her veins, into the aching hollow where her soul had been unraveling. A golden thread bound her back together.

She gasped in air. She could breathe.

Tears slipped down her cheeks as she clung to his shoulders, trembling, as the bond snapped into place, whole, unbreakable, theirs.

He pulled back slowly, holding her tightly, forehead against hers.

“No more pain,” he whispered. “You’re mine. Forever.”

And for the first time in weeks, Kija didn’t want to run.

She only wanted to stay right here. In the arms of the man who finally chose her.

The silence after the bond snapped into place was almost deafening.

Kija's breathing evened out, the pain in her chest gone, but not forgotten. Her limbs still trembled, not from agony, but from everything else grief, exhaustion, and the weight of finally feeling whole after being ripped apart for days.

She didn’t say anything at first.

She just slid off the counter slowly, bare feet brushing the cool floor, and walked back to the couch. She didn’t look at him.

Not yet.

She sat down, pulled her knees up slightly, then reached out and gave the seat beside her a small pat.

It wasn’t a grand invitation.

But it was something.

Sunghoon followed instantly, sitting next to her like a man afraid to breathe too loudly. His hands were clasped, back rigid, but his eyes stayed on her. Waiting. Ready.

She stared straight ahead.

“I’ll forgive you,” she said quietly, almost to the room rather than to him. “Eventually.”

His shoulders slumped not in relief, but in humility.

“But you can never say something like that to me again,” she continued, her voice stronger now. “Not even as a joke. Not out of anger. Not ever.”

“I won’t,” he said, voice breaking. “Never again.”

Kija turned to him at last. Her eyes weren’t glowing, weren’t cold just steady. Calm like the ocean before a storm.

“You also need to fix things with the others,” she added. “With all of them. You hurt more than just me, Sunghoon.”

He nodded immediately.

“I know,” he whispered. “I’ll do it.”

Her gaze dropped.

“And when you can get Sora to forgive you…” She paused, then looked at him through her lashes. “Then I’ll really consider forgiving you, too.”

That made him freeze. The hurt on his face was raw, but the guilt in his eyes swallowed it whole. He didn’t argue. He didn’t complain. He just nodded again, more firmly this time.

“I’ll start with her,” he promised. “Whatever it takes.”

She leaned back into the couch and let her head fall against the cushion. Her voice was softer now, but full of warning:

“If I ask for space, give it. If I say I need time, don’t crowd me. Respect my boundaries.”

Sunghoon turned toward her.

“I will,” he swore. “No matter what. I’ll be here, but only when you want me.”

She gave a small nod, arms folding over her chest as her lips pulled into something tired. Something that could’ve been the start of a smile, or maybe just peace.

“You’ve got a long road ahead of you, vampire boy.”

He let out the barest breath of a laugh, eyes fixed on her like she was the center of his world.

“I’ll walk it,” he said. “For you? I’ll crawl.”

And for once, she believed him.

But believing wasn’t the same as healing.

Not yet.