Vesperin trembled.
Auren must go to her. He had vowed to protect her. He always upheld his vows.
The situation was precarious. The one called the Phoenix was an unstable predator, a hunter. Not even seeing his face, Auren felt the unnatural, predatory need radiating from the man. Ittook much to unsettle an immortal, but Auren felt the hair on his nape rise.
He stepped carefully over the snow, toe to heel, silencing his steps. His fingers curled around the handle of his scythe, ready but restrained—held back only by Vesperin, bound by the invisible leash wrapped tightly around his immortal Soul, and she, who held the other end.
"Why will you not talk?" Kiton’s voice filled the night air. His tone was careful and methodical.
Vesperin met Auren’s eyes over the man’s shoulder, and he saw the plea inside their grey depths—a silent demand to stay his blade.
Auren’s scythe answered to his Soul and hers, as entwined as they were. The Soul Searcher dipped his chin, and he did not move closer.
Rin forcedherself to stay still. Watching the man she still held a shred of hope for, foolish and fleeting.
The same man who’dtorturedher.
Watching him now—the utter absence of soul and feeling—she wondered if he was as much a victim as she was.
"Kit," Rin breathed, "you’re not this. This isn’t you. Come back to me." She stepped closer, boots sinking into snow. "Please."
She was still reeling from his admission—they truly were Soulbonds, and he’d known. He’d known foryears.
"Man." Kit released an echo of a laugh. "I am not a man any longer. Your heart beats. I hear it. It tempts me."
She watched as his right hand curled into a tight fist. The move was stilted, strange.
He moved, like movement was precisely what he was made for. He stalked forward, snow crunching beneath his boots, and reached for the holster at his side, drawing a sleek gun. His thumb switched the safety off, his hands encased in dark gloves.
He was close now. Too close. She couldn’t see Auren anymore. Weaponless. How foolish she’d fucking been.
Rin gave a ragged gasp as Kit stood right before her, close enough to touch, close enough that she could see his pupils dilate, darkness swallowing the brown of his irises.
He lifted the gun, staring at it like a stranger’s hand held it. Snow melted against the metal. "I held you as our home planet exploded. The blast took out our ship. We died together." He looked up, snow clinging to his lashes.
Rin memorized his freckles, desperate to keep something human about him alive.
His words made the ache behind her eyes flare anew. Memories hovered just out of reach—something she knew yet didn’t. Their second life, the one she struggled to recall, as if the horrifying end was too much for her to handle.
"Five years ago, they took your memories a few days before New Year’s. Half a decade… I lied to you. Vesperin, Vesperin." Kit echoed her name, murmuring it as if to remind himself how to pronounce it. "Their experiments did not work on me." The gun trembled in his hand. "Why? Why did it fail? I am a failure." His eyes grew unfocused, as if staring at something just out of her sight.
"You’re not a failure, Kit. This isn’t you. Whatever they did to you, I can fix it—wecan fix it." White flashed behind him as Auren moved in a slow circle, keeping her in his line of sight. She didn’t let her gaze linger, keeping her eyes trained on Kit’s as she begged, "Let me help you."
As if her words were a trigger, he snapped. He switched his hold of the gun to his left hand, using his right to reach for her.His fingers encircled her throat, and she wheezed as her air was cut off. His strength was unnatural. None of this wasnormal.
Beneath the force of his bruising grip, Rin was shoved to her knees on the snow. Kit’s headstone was by her side, casting shadows over half of her face.
He loomed over her, more machine than man, with his cold, pale skin and rigid grace.
Kit lifted the gun and pressed it to the center of her forehead. It was cold against her skin.
He pressed the gun harder against her, and she didn’t move, even though every instinct in her screamed to use her training—to disarm him. Grab his forearm, twist the gun up before he could shoot, and force his grip to loosen. She didn’t, though. Why didn’t she? Maybe a small, delusional part of her still believed he wouldn’t hurt her—even after he’d been the one to torture her.
"You won’t shoot me," Rin whispered up to him.
"Why do you think that?" He seemed to be genuinely asking.
Slowly, Rin reached up and placed her hand over his, where he held the gun to her head. His fingers were cold beneath the gloves, immovable. "Because you care for me—you love me."
