The first breath of air outside the house tasted wrong. Sophie had expected freedom to feel sharp and sweet, like diving into the sea after years of thirst. Instead, the air was thick, carrying ash and smoke that clung to her tongue. Every inhale scraped like gravel.
Marcus lay sprawled in the wet grass, his chest rising in shallow, broken gasps. Sophie pressed trembling fingers to his throat, and relief flooded her when she felt his pulse—weak, but steady.
"You're alive," she whispered, her voice breaking. "We made it out."
But as she looked back at the ruin behind them, her stomach knotted. The house had collapsed into itself, beams jutting upward like broken ribs. Smoke curled into the pale sky, carrying whispers she could almost—but not quite—hear.
She wanted to believe Ethan was gone, but silence could lie.
Marcus stirred, his voice hoarse. "Don't… stop looking at me like that. I'm still here."
Sophie's throat tightened. She forced a shaky smile. "You scared me."
He smirked faintly, blood at the corner of his mouth. "You scare me every day. So I guess we're even."
The joke should have made her laugh, but instead her chest ached. She brushed the hair from his face and kissed his forehead. "You're not allowed to leave me, Marcus. Not now. Not ever."
His eyes, fever-bright, searched hers. "Then don't let me. Whatever it takes."
The words were simple, but they struck deep. Because Sophie knew Ethan wasn't gone. Not entirely. His voice lingered in her veins, in the cracks of her memory. I live in every wound you hide.
And Marcus—he had wounds too. Deeper than hers, maybe. Wounds Ethan could still crawl through if they weren't careful.
They stayed there until the sun was fully up, its warmth weak but steady against their battered bodies. Sophie tried to help Marcus stand, but his legs buckled, forcing her to half-carry him. Step by step, they stumbled down the hill, away from the ruins.
The forest greeted them like a stranger. The trees were too still, the birds silent, as though the woods themselves were watching. Sophie tightened her grip on Marcus.
"Where do we go?" he asked, his voice rasping.
"Anywhere but back," Sophie said. "We just keep moving until—"
She broke off. Because in the corner of her vision, something shifted.
A figure. Pale, blurred, standing between the trees.
Her breath hitched. She blinked, and it was gone.
Marcus noticed her sudden stillness. "What is it?"
"Nothing," she lied, forcing her steps forward. "Just… nothing."
But in her chest, Ethan laughed. Not with power, not with triumph—but with patience.
You can't run from yourself, Sophie.
They found shelter in the ruins of an old barn half a mile from the house. The roof sagged, the boards were rotten, but it gave them cover from the biting wind. Sophie guided Marcus inside, easing him down onto a pile of hay that reeked of mildew.
His face was ashen, his body trembling with exhaustion. Sophie tore strips from her dress, cleaning and binding his wounds as best she could. The cuts were deep, but it was the bruising along his ribs that terrified her. She could feel the bones shifting wrong beneath her touch.
"You need a doctor," she whispered.
He caught her hand, his grip weak but insistent. "We can't risk it. If the wrong people ask questions—if the house's story spreads—"
"You'll die if we do nothing," she snapped.
He smiled faintly, bitterly. "Then don't let me."
Her heart clenched. "Stop saying that."
"I mean it." His eyes, too bright, locked on hers. "If I slip—if I let him in—don't hesitate. Don't give him a chance."
Sophie's vision blurred with tears. She shook her head violently. "No. I'm not killing you to kill him. I won't lose you that way."
"You might not get a choice."
"Then I'll make one," she whispered fiercely. "And it won't be you."
But when she pressed her ear to his chest, listening to the broken rhythm of his heart, Ethan's whisper rose again—this time from Marcus's lungs.
He's mine, Sophie. He bleeds for me now. Every breath he takes feeds me. When he dies, I'll be whole again.
She jerked back, trembling. Marcus's eyes fluttered closed, too exhausted to notice. Sophie curled beside him, wrapping her arms around his body like a shield.
"You won't have him," she whispered into the darkness. "Not now. Not ever."
But the silence after felt like a lie.
That night, Sophie dreamed.
She stood in a room she knew too well—the attic of the house, though it was whole again, the names still carved into the walls. Except this time, every name glowed faintly. And among them, hers pulsed brightest of all.
Ethan appeared from the shadows, smiling. Not monstrous, but calm, almost gentle. His eyes were hollow, yet they held a terrible warmth.
"You think love will save him," he said softly. "But love is just another wound. Another place for me to crawl inside."
Sophie turned away, but he followed. "You bleed together. You break together. You will fall together. And when you do, I will be there to gather the pieces."
Her fists clenched. "I'll burn you again. As many times as it takes."
His smile widened. "Burn yourself, you mean."
She woke with a gasp, sweat slick on her skin. Marcus stirred beside her, muttering in fevered sleep. She pressed a hand to his chest, trying to ground herself. But beneath her palm, his heartbeat felt wrong—like two rhythms, hers and his, pulsing out of sync.
For the first time, Sophie wondered if Ethan hadn't been lying. If maybe he truly had seeped into both of them.
Morning brought no answers. Marcus was worse, his skin clammy, his breath shallow. Sophie knew she had to move him, had to find help, but the thought of stepping back into the world filled her with dread. What would she say? How could she explain what they had been through?
As she gathered what little strength she had, Marcus's hand caught hers again. His eyes opened, glassy but aware. "Sophie."
"I'm here," she whispered, leaning close.
His lips brushed her ear, his voice barely audible. "Don't let him take me."
Her heart broke. She kissed his temple, whispering back: "I won't. I swear it."
But Ethan's laughter echoed in her blood, a reminder she couldn't silence.
You can't keep promises, Sophie. Not to him. Not even to yourself.