Chapter 8 · She Remembers Rowan's Death

Mara's hand was still wrapped around the knife when Rowan stepped back into the room.

She didn't drop it. Didn't hide it. Just stood there with the blade pointed down, knuckles white, eyes locked on something past the cracked window like she was deciding whether to cut herself open or cut someone else.

"Put it down," Rowan said.

She didn't move.

"Mara."

Her jaw tightened. "You don't get to use my name like that."

"Like what?"

"Like we're on the same side."

Rowan crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe. His ribs still ached from the last reset, and the bell mark under his collarbone was hot enough to make him want to claw his own skin off. "We're not on any side. We're just stuck."

"That's the problem." Mara finally turned to face him. Her eyes were red-rimmed, but dry. "You think being stuck makes us allies. It doesn't. It just means we're both drowning."

"Then stop holding the knife like you're about to go under."

She laughed. It was a terrible sound, sharp and broken. "You want to know why I'm holding it?"

"Yeah."

"Because the last time I didn't, someone died."

Rowan's stomach dropped. "Who?"

"You."