ISLA POV
Maya's headstone is covered in dead flowers.
I kneel down and brush them away with shaking hands. Ten years of visiting this grave. Ten years of talking to cold marble like my sister can hear me.
Today, I'm hoping she actually can.
"I brought someone," I say softly. "Someone you'd probably hate. Or maybe love. I can't tell anymore."
Rafe stands a few feet back, giving me space. The afternoon sun makes his platinum hair glow like a halo. An angel. A demon. Something in between.
"Tell her," I say without turning around. "Tell Maya what you are. What you did to the man who killed her."
Rafe steps forward slowly. He kneels beside me, and I notice his hands are shaking too.
"Maya Monroe," he says quietly. "I'm the monster who's been killing guilty people for 847 years. I'm the Reaper the news keeps talking about. And three days ago, I carved the letter R into Judge Harold Pierce's chest because he took bribes to let your killer walk free. I'm sorry I came too late to save you. But I made sure the people who failed you paid the price."
Tears stream down my face. "He killed Marcus Vane too. This morning. For you. For us."
Rafe's silver eyes meet mine. "I'd kill a thousand more if it brought her back. But it won't. Nothing will. So all I can do is make sure no one else's sister dies because the system is broken."
"The system isn't yours to fix," I whisper.
"Then whose is it? The judges who take bribes? The lawyers who hide evidence? The cops who look the other way?" His voice cracks. "I died screaming for justice 847 years ago. No one came. So I became the justice I needed. And I'm not sorry."
I should hate him. Should arrest him. Should call backup right now.
Instead, I ask, "What was her name? The woman who burned?"
Rafe goes very still. "Catherine."
"Tell me about her."
"Why?"
"Because you're asking me to fall in love with you in—" I check my phone. "—five hours and thirty-two minutes. And I need to know if you're capable of actually loving someone, or if you just collect broken women who need saving."
He flinches like I slapped him. Good. He should hurt like I'm hurting.
"Catherine was a healer," Rafe says after a long silence. "1623. A small village in England. She saved lives with herbs and medicine, and the villagers called her a witch. I was already a Reaper by then. Had been for 400 years. I was so lonely, Isla. So tired of watching humans live and die while I stayed frozen."
"What happened?"
"I fell in love. Let myself be seen. Let myself feel human again." His voice breaks. "Someone saw us together. Saw me use my powers to heal a child Catherine couldn't save. They burned her alive the next day while I watched, helpless. Because Reapers can't interfere with human justice. Not even when that justice is murder."
"But you interfere now. You kill people."
"Because after Catherine, I stopped caring about the rules." Silver tears run down his face—actual tears, like mercury. "I decided if I couldn't save the innocent, I'd at least punish the guilty. For 400 years, I've been doing exactly that. Until you."
"What's different about me?"
"You're the first person who makes me want to stop killing and start living." He takes my hand. "Catherine wanted me to be a better man. You make me want to be a man at all."
My heart pounds. I look at Maya's headstone, silently asking my sister what to do.
The wind picks up, rustling through the cemetery trees. For just one moment, I swear I smell Maya's perfume—lavender and vanilla.
A sign. Or I'm losing my mind. Probably both.
"Tell me about the legend," I say. "The three steps. Exactly what we have to do."
Rafe's hope is painful to watch. "First step: I confess my love freely and without coercion."
"So do it."
"Right now?"
"We have five hours, Rafe. Talk fast."
He takes both my hands, and that cold electricity shoots through me again. But this time, it doesn't feel dangerous. It feels... right.
"Isla Monroe," he says, voice shaking. "For 847 years, I've been dead. A ghost wearing a human face. I've killed thousands. Saved thousands more. And felt nothing the entire time. Just cold, endless nothing." His silver eyes hold mine. "Then you walked into that conference room with your stubborn jaw and haunted eyes, and for the first time since 1177, I felt warm. You make me want things I gave up on centuries ago. Sunrise. Coffee. Growing old. Dying someday surrounded by people who love me. You make me want to be mortal again, Isla. And that terrifies me more than anything."
"That's not love. That's loneliness."
"It's both." He touches my face gently. "But it's also more. I love how you fight for justice even when the system fails. I love how you visit your sister's grave every week for ten years. I love how you didn't shoot me when you had the chance. I love your mercy. Your rage. Your impossible hope that monsters can change." His voice drops to a whisper. "I love you, Isla Monroe. And if you let me become human, I promise I'll spend every day proving it."
My breath catches. "That's step one?"
"That's step one."
"What's step two?"
"You have to accept my love. Knowing everything I am. Everything I've done." He swallows hard. "You have to say yes to a monster."
I look at Maya's grave. At Rafe's desperate face. At my own shaking hands.
This is insane. Completely insane.
But Maya died because the system failed. And Rafe's been fixing those failures for 847 years. Isn't that worth something?
"What's step three?" I ask.
"I have to give up my immortality willingly. No coercion. No force. I have to choose you over eternal life." His hands tighten on mine. "I have to die, Isla. Become human. Become killable."
"And then?"
"And then we have maybe sixty years together if we're lucky. Sixty years of being normal. Of aging. Of eventually dying in bed surrounded by grandchildren instead of alone in the dark."
Sixty years. It sounds like nothing compared to 847.
It sounds like everything.
"If I say yes," I whisper. "If I accept your love and we complete this legend... what happens to Lucien? To the Council?"
"We deal with them together. As humans." He smiles bitterly. "They can't kill a human for knowing Reaper secrets if I'm not a Reaper anymore."
"That's a loophole."
"That's hope."
I close my eyes. Take a deep breath. Open them.
"Okay."
Rafe goes very still. "Okay?"
"Okay, I accept. I accept your insane, impossible, completely ridiculous love." Tears pour down my face. "I accept the monster who avenged my sister. The killer who wants to stop killing. The 847-year-old dead man who makes me feel more alive than anyone ever has."
"Isla—"
"But I have conditions." I squeeze his hands hard. "No more killing. Ever. Even if Lucien comes. Even if the Council comes. We run. We hide. We fight with human weapons if we have to. But no more Reaper powers. No more death."
His face crumbles. "I can't promise that. Not if you're in danger—"
"Then this doesn't work. Step three requires you to give up immortality willingly, right? So give it ALL up. The power. The killing. The monster." I lean closer. "Choose me over duty. Choose life over death. Choose being human even if it means being weak."
"I don't know if I can."
"Then we die at midnight." I stand up, brushing dirt from my jeans. "Your choice, Rafe. Be the monster who protects me until Lucien eventually wins. Or be the man who lives beside me, powerless and perfect."
I walk away, leaving him kneeling at my sister's grave.
Behind me, I hear him whisper something to Maya's headstone. I can't make out the words.
But I hear her name one more time: "Catherine."
I'm halfway to the cemetery gates when reality hits me.
I just agreed to fall in love with a serial killer to save both our lives.
I just gave an 847-year-old monster an ultimatum.
I just walked away from the only person who can protect me when Lucien comes at midnight.
My phone buzzes. Text from James: I'm at the hospital. Doctors say I should be dead but I'm fine. What happened? Where are you? Isla, please tell me you're safe.
I start typing a response. Stop. Delete it.
Because I'm not safe.
I'm standing in a cemetery at sunset, five hours from death, waiting for a monster to choose between his power and my life.
And the terrifying part?
I think I actually love him too.
A hand touches my shoulder.
I spin around, and it's not Rafe.
It's a woman. Tall, elegant, with eyes that glow silver-gold.
"Isla Monroe," she says in a voice like honey and poison. "I'm Seraphina. Head of the Reaper Council. And we need to talk about the monster you're trying to steal from us."