“I won’t.” He reached for me. “I’m here. I swear it, I’m here, and I’m not leaving.”
I recoiled before I even knew why. My body moved like it had a mind of its own, like it didn’t trust him.
Didn’t trust Will.
And gods, thathurt.
Those vultures hadn’t just shattered me, they’d infected everything. Even this. Even Will. My mind, my instincts, they didn’t know the difference anymore. They saw him as a threat too.
Will.
The boy who wouldn’t hurt a fly. The boy who refused to hunt because the idea of killing made him sick.
And now my body thought he was one ofthem.
I hated it.
It was never going to be like it was before. Whatever normal had been, it was gone. Ripped out of me. What happened… it had rewired me. And it had changed how I saw the world.
How I sawhim.
But the worst part? He saw it too. Will pulled his hand back like it stung, eyes soft and apologetic. I hated that look. That gentle,it’s okay,I understandlook.
It wasn’t.
It wasn’t fucking okay.
How could men likehimexist—gentle and good and safe—while other men hurt women for fun? How was that fair? Thatheflinched like he was the one who’d done something wrong. Like he should’ve known better. Like any of it was his fault.
Then something caught the light, at the end of the alley.
I turned away from Will without a word and started walking.
An old fence loomed ahead, bent and half-swallowed by ivy. A twist of iron, rusted, like a hand reaching out toward the sky. The earth shifted under my boots, cracked and uneven.
Inside, it was worse. Gravestones slumped into the earth, crooked and broken. Some were nothing but crumbling lumps now, swallowed whole by moss. The names, if they were still there, were buried under layers of grime and lichen, lost to the years.
An apple lay by the gate, caved in and torn open, crawling with worms. I watched them writhe and disappear into the soft flesh. They ate everything.
Bodies piled in the streets. Left to rot. Swarmed by worms and flies.
Will’s words never left me. I imagined my mother’s hands, her face, her smile, softening, collapsing, her skin peeling away as the days passed. My father’s body bloating in the heat.
Alone. Forgotten.
There was no one left to bury them. No one left to say their names.
How long until I forgot their voices?
How long until I couldn’t picture their faces anymore?
“Talk to me.”
Will’s voice was low, careful.
I didn’t look at him. “I need to do something,” I murmured, barely breathing. “For my family.”
He walked a little closer. “We can. We will. I promise.”
