I didn't sleep.
After Alex's revelation about Dr. Rachel Thorne, I'd gone home to my empty apartment and spent the night staring at the ceiling. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw fragments that might have been memories or might have been dreams. A woman with brown hair in a white coat. Hands that looked like mine performing surgery. A voice that sounded like mine saying "time of death, 3:47 AM."
But none of it felt real. None of it felt like me.
At dawn, I gave up on sleep and went for a walk. Central Park was almost empty at 6 AM—just a few joggers and dog walkers starting their day. I found a bench near the reservoir and tried to make sense of everything Alex had told me.
My phone buzzed. Text message: "Meet me at Bow Bridge. We need to talk. - A"
Of course he was already here. The man seemed to have a supernatural ability to know where I was. Which, given everything I'd learned about him, might not be that far from the truth.
I found Alex standing in the middle of the ornate cast-iron bridge, looking out over the water. He'd clearly slept as badly as I had—his hair was messier than usual, and there were dark circles under his eyes.
"You left pretty quickly last night," he said without turning around.
"I needed time to think."
"And what did you think about?"
I moved to stand beside him at the bridge railing. "About how none of this makes sense."
"What part?"
"All of it." I gripped the iron railing. "Alex, even if you're right about my past, even if I was human once, it doesn't change my current situation."
"Doesn't it?"
"No. Because I'm still bound by the rules of my world. And those rules are very clear."
Alex turned to look at me. "Tell me about the rules."
I took a breath I didn't need—old human habits apparently died hard. "Death gods exist to maintain cosmic balance. We collect souls at their appointed time, no exceptions. We don't question orders, we don't form attachments, and we definitely don't interfere with each other's targets."
"What happens if you do?"
"Depends on the violation. Minor infractions get you demoted to lower-level collections. Suburban car accidents instead of high-profile assassinations."
"And major infractions?"
"Termination."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning they strip away your immortality and let you die like the human you used to be. If you were lucky enough to ever be human."
Alex was quiet for a moment, processing this. "What about falling in love?"
The question hit me like cold water. "What?"
"Is falling in love a minor infraction or a major one?"
"Death gods don't fall in love."
"Don't they?"
"We don't feel anything, Alex. That's the whole point."
"But your heart is beating."
"That's different."
"How?"
"It just is." I turned away from him, looking out over the water. "Besides, it doesn't matter. In forty-eight hours, I either complete my assignment or I'm dead."
"What if there was a third option?"
"There isn't."
"What if I told you that I'm not going to make this easy for you?"
I looked back at him. "What do you mean?"
"I mean I'm not going to stand still and let you kill me. I'm going to run. I'm going to hide. I'm going to make you work for it."
"Alex—"
"And I'm going to keep saving people. All the people your company wants dead. I'm going to interfere with every single collection I can."
My stomach dropped. "You can't do that."
"Why not?"
"Because they'll send someone else. Someone who won't hesitate. Someone who won't—" I stopped myself.
"Someone who won't what?"
"Someone who won't care about you."
Alex smiled. "So you do care about me."
"That's not the point."
"Isn't it?" He moved closer to me. "Raven, if you care about me, then you're already violating their rules. You've already crossed the line."
He was right, and that terrified me.
"It doesn't matter," I said. "Even if I wanted to help you, I can't. There are things you don't understand about my world."
"So explain them to me."
I looked around the park, making sure we were alone. "Every death god has a handler. Someone who monitors our assignments, tracks our progress, ensures compliance."
"Like Marcus."
"Marcus is just middle management. Above him are the Enforcers."
"What do Enforcers do?"
"They eliminate problems. Rogue agents, failed experiments, death gods who forget their place." I turned to face Alex fully. "If I fail to complete your assignment, they'll send an Enforcer for both of us."
"Both of us?"
"You're a problem now, Alex. You know too much, you've interfered too much. Even if I killed you right now, they'd probably send someone to clean up loose ends."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning anyone who's ever helped you. Anyone who knows about your abilities. Your hospital colleagues, your saved victims, maybe even Harold Morrison."
The color drained from Alex's face. "They'd kill innocent people?"
"They'd call it maintaining security."
Alex was quiet for a long moment, gripping the bridge railing so hard his knuckles went white. "How many Enforcers are there?"
"I don't know. Maybe a dozen. Maybe more."
"Have you ever met one?"
"Once. Three years ago." The memory made me shudder. "A death god named Catherine had been asking too many questions about her assignments. Started investigating the people she was sent to kill."
"What happened to her?"
"The Enforcer made it look like a suicide. Threw her off the Empire State Building during a lightning storm."
"Jesus."
"That's why you have to stop, Alex. Stop saving people, stop interfering, just... disappear. Change your name, move to another country, start over."
"I can't do that."
"Why not?"
"Because people will die. People who don't deserve to die."
"People die anyway. That's the natural order."
"Is it?" Alex pulled out his phone and showed me a photo. "This is Maria Santos. Fifty-three years old, mother of two. She's supposed to die tomorrow during her surgery."
I looked at the photo. Middle-aged Hispanic woman, warm smile, laugh lines around her eyes. "Alex—"
"Her daughter is getting married next month. Maria's been planning this wedding for two years. She's supposed to give a speech about how love always finds a way."
"Stop."
"Her son just got accepted to medical school. Wants to be a heart surgeon, just like the doctor who's going to save his mom's life."
"Alex, stop."
"That doctor is me, Raven. I'm supposed to save her life tomorrow. And you're supposed to make sure I fail."
I closed my eyes. "It's not that simple."
"Isn't it? You let me save Maria, then you fake my death. Tell your company the job is done."
"That's not how it works."
"Why not?"
"Because they verify kills. Soul collection isn't just murder, Alex. When a death god completes an assignment, the target's soul gets processed through our system. Filed, catalogued, sent to wherever souls go next."
"And if there's no soul to process?"
"They'll know I failed."
Alex was quiet for a moment. "What if there was a soul to process? Just not mine?"
"What do you mean?"
"What if we found someone who was supposed to die anyway? Someone terminal, suffering, ready to go. What if we... made a trade?"
I stared at him. "You're talking about murder."
"I'm talking about mercy killing. Helping someone who wants to die anyway."
"That's still murder."
"Is it? Or is it just... accelerating the inevitable?"
The way he said it made my skin crawl. "Alex, listen to yourself. You're talking about killing an innocent person to fake your own death."
"I'm talking about saving Maria Santos and dozens of other people like her."
"By becoming exactly what you claim to be fighting against."
Alex turned away from me, looking out over the water. "What would you do?"
"What?"
"If you were in my position. If you could see death coming for innocent people, and you had the power to stop it, what would you do?"
I wanted to tell him I'd follow orders. Do my job. Maintain the natural order.
But looking at his face, seeing the pain in his eyes when he talked about Maria Santos and her daughter's wedding...
"I don't know," I admitted.
"Yes, you do."
"Alex—"
"You've been asking yourself the same question for ten years. Every time you failed a collection, every time someone slipped away at the last minute. You weren't failing, Raven. You were choosing."
"That's not true."
"Isn't it? Harold Morrison wasn't an accident. Deep down, you knew he wasn't supposed to die. That's why your heart started beating when you touched him."
I shook my head. "Even if that's true, it doesn't change anything. I still have forty-six hours to complete your assignment."
"Or what?"
"Or we both die."
Alex nodded slowly. "Then we'd better figure out a third option."
"There is no third option."
"There's always a third option." Alex pulled out another folder from his jacket. "I've been working on this for months."
"What is it?"
"A way to break your connection to Eternal Solutions. Permanently."
I took the folder but didn't open it. "Alex, if you're wrong about this—"
"Then we die trying. But if I'm right..." He smiled. "If I'm right, you get to remember who you really are. And maybe we can stop this whole system together."
"Stop an entire supernatural corporation? Just the two of us?"
"Start small. Save Maria Santos. Save the next person on their list. Build a network of people who know the truth."
"That's insane."
"Maybe. But what's the alternative? Spend the rest of eternity collecting souls for a company that might be running a supernatural assassination service?"
I looked down at the folder in my hands. "What's in here?"
"Everything I know about breaking death god programming. It's dangerous, and it might not work, but..."
"But?"
"But I've been dreaming about this moment my whole life. The moment when you remember who you used to be and decide to fight back."
I opened the folder. The first page was a medical record for Dr. Rachel Thorne. Date of death: fifteen years ago. Cause: multiple trauma from vehicle collision.
But handwritten in the margin, in Alex's careful script, were two words that made my blood run cold:
"Murder. Staged."
"Alex," I whispered. "What aren't you telling me?"
He took my hand, and that familiar electric sensation shot through me. My heart responded immediately, beating faster and stronger.
"I'm telling you that fifteen years ago, Dr. Rachel Thorne discovered something that Eternal Solutions didn't want her to know. So they killed her and turned her into the perfect weapon."
"And what did she discover?"
Alex's eyes met mine. "That death gods aren't made from nothing, Raven. They're made from people. Specific people. People who were getting too close to the truth."
End of Chapter 7