Page 17 of Porcelain Grave

"You think you can just leave me?" he snarls, his voice a low, vibrating growl. "You think you can just fucking vanish? Listen to me, you stubborn, beautiful little thing. You are mine. Do you understand? Every breath you take, every drop of blood in your veins, every single fucking inch of your skin belongs to me. I didn't pull you out of the dark just to let you slip away into the void."

I look into his eyes, my vision swimming with tears. "I'm a product of torture and rape, Rhys," I choke out, the truth feeling like acid in my mouth. "I was born from pain. I'm nothing but a fucking mistake."

His grip tightens, not to hurt me, but to hold me together.

"You are not a mistake," he says, his voice dropping to a fierce, intense whisper. "Your mother... she endured that hell for you. She didn't starve herself, she didn't give up, she didn't let that bastard break her spirit entirely because she wanted to find a way to get you and your sisters out. She fought every single second of that nightmare because she loved you more than her own life."

He leans in, his forehead pressing against mine. "The last thing she ever did—the very last breath she had—was to say your name. Ophelia. You were her victory, you little fool. You were the only thing in that room that was pure."

I sob, a broken, guttural sound, and for the first time, I see it. A single, solitary tear escapes Rhys's left eye, tracing a path down his cheek. The sight of it freezes the air in my lungs. The Great Rhys Castellan, the monster of the Menagerie, is crying.

"I can't lose you," he whispers, his voice trembling. "I can't fucking lose you, Ophelia. I love you so much it fucking kills me. I will burn the whole world to the ground before I let you leave me. You are my heart, my soul, my obsession. You stay here. With me. Always."

He pulls me into him, wrapping his arms around me so tightly I can feel his heart hammering against my chest—fast, frantic, and utterly devoted. He begins to rock me slowly, his lips pressing soft, lingering kisses to my temple, my forehead, my tear-stained cheeks.

"Shhh," he coos, the psychotic edge replaced by a tenderness that is almost more frightening. "I've got you. You're safe. I'm here, and I'm never letting go. Just breathe for me, sweetheart. Just breathe."

He continues to murmur sweet, possessive nonsense into my ear, his voice a hypnotic drone that slowly lures me out of the darkness. He strokes my hair, his touch grounding me, pulling me back from the edge of the abyss. Slowly, the shaking stops. The world stops spinning. I collapse into him, completely spent, my spirit extinguished.

Without a word, he scoops me up in his arms, carrying me as if I weigh nothing. He walks through the dim corridors of the carnival, his stride purposeful, until he reaches his private chambers.

He kicks the door shut and carries me to the massive, velvet-draped bed. He lays me down with an almost reverent gentleness, but he doesn't pull away. Instead, he climbs in beside me, pulling the heavy covers over us both. He wraps his large body around mine, shielding me from the rest of the world, pinning me to his chest.

I close my eyes, listening to the steady thrum of his heart, feeling the possessive heat of his skin. For now, the ghosts are silent. For now, I am just his.

Chapter 5

My feet feel like they’re made of fucking lead, dragging across the floorboards as Rhys and I step into the attic. The air is thick with dust and the smell of old, rotting secrets. My heart is hammering against my ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a cage.

The air in the attic is thick with dust and decades of trapped heat.

There it is. The box.

It sits there in the center of the room, closed and silent, like a coffin for things that were never meant to be found. I don't wait for Rhys. I can't. If I stop to think, I’ll fucking shatter. I lunge forward and rip the lid open with a violent jerk. I pry it open, the screech of rusted hinges cutting through the dead silence of the room. Inside, the cruel arithmetic of time is laid bare.

The breath leaves my lungs in a sharp, jagged gasp.

My sisters. They’re lying there, curled up on top of our mum, like they’re just sleeping in a twisted, macabre heap. Tears blur my vision instantly, hot and thick, rolling down my cheeks. I don't care that they've been dead for seven fucking years. I don't care that they look like something out of a nightmare, skin grey and sunken, eyes gone.

I reach in, my fingers trembling, and trace the line of their hair. It feels brittle, wrong, but I can't stop. I need to touch them. I need to know they were real. One hand rests on the edge of the box, anchoring me to this horror.

Then, I look at her.

Mommy. Dead for nineteen years.

The old metal lockbox is rusted through at the seams, letting in the dry air that ruined her. The hinges of the tin trunk were loose and warped, failing to keep out the passage of time.

I touch her hair first, my hand shaking so hard I can barely keep it steady. Then, I move my fingers to her face—or what’s left of it. The skin is like parchment, stretched thin over bone, ruined by time and the dark. A natural mummification. I trace the line of her jaw, my heart breaking into a million pieces.

"Mommy," I whisper, the word barely a breath. I gently cup her face with one hand, holding her with a tenderness that feels blasphemous in this rotting room. I'm careful not to hurt her, even though I know she can't feel a fucking thing anymore.

Suddenly, the temperature drops. A cold, chilling air washes over me, making the hair on my arms stand up. I whip my head around and freeze.

Two figures stand there. Pale, shimmering, and hollow. My twin sisters.

"Ophelia," they whisper. Their voices aren't sounds; they're echoes inside my skull, cold and demanding. "Avenge her. Avenge our mother. Avenge us."

I stand up slowly, my eyes locked on them. I glance at Rhys and see his gaze shifted—he can see them. He can see the ghosts of the girls my father murdered. I don't scream. I don't cry. A cold, hard knot of rage tightens in my gut, replacing the grief.