Noah's POV
"I hope we still have this at the end of the world."
That's what Kieran whispered the first time we slept together. I was in his arms, pressed tight against his chest while we floated in the cool waters of the lake. Stars above, mud on our feet. I remember the way his voice sounded—quiet, like he was telling a secret. Like if he said it too loud, it might vanish.
I hadn't understood what he meant. It felt like a soft thing to say. Romantic. A little dramatic. But Kieran could be dramatic sometimes. I kissed his collarbone and let it go.
But now…
Now I understand.
Now I'm standing in the middle of my living room, one arm wrapped around a squirming Oliver while the TV hums in the background, and the news anchor is calmly explaining how the government plans to microchip my neck and dose me weekly with wolf-killing chemicals.
Now I know what Kieran meant.
Because this is the end of the world.
And he's not even here.
