ISLA POV
Rafe takes me to his mansion.
It's exactly what you'd expect from an 847-year-old killer—gothic, dark, filled with ancient weapons on the walls. Swords, daggers, axes. All covered in rust that might be old blood.
"Which one?" I ask, my voice shaking. "Which one do I use to kill you?"
Rafe walks to a glass case in the corner. Inside is a single blade—silver, glowing faintly, beautiful and terrible.
"This one," he says, opening the case. "It's the blade Death gave me when I became a Reaper. The only weapon that can kill what I am."
He hands it to me.
The moment my fingers touch the handle, ice shoots up my arm. The blade is freezing cold, impossibly heavy, and somehow... alive. I can feel it humming with power.
"It knows," Rafe says quietly. "It knows what you're about to do. Death's blade always knows."
"How do I..." I can't finish the sentence. How do I stab the man I love through the heart?
"You aim here." Rafe takes my hand and places it on his chest. His heart beats under my palm—slow, cold, wrong. "You push the blade straight in. All the way to the hilt. Don't hesitate. Don't stop halfway."
"Will it hurt?"
"Yes." He meets my eyes. "But I've died before. I can do it again."
Tears stream down my face. "I can't. Rafe, I can't do this."
"You have to." He cups my face gently. "Or we both die at midnight anyway. At least this way, we have a chance."
"What if it doesn't work? What if the legend is fake and I just murder you for nothing?"
"Then I die knowing someone loved me enough to try." His smile is sad. "That's more than I've had in 847 years."
My hands shake so badly the blade nearly falls. Rafe catches it, wraps my fingers tighter around the handle.
"When?" I whisper.
"Now. Before I lose my courage." He steps back, spreads his arms wide. "Do it quick. Like ripping off a bandage."
"Rafe—"
"I love you, Isla Monroe. In whatever life comes next, I'll find you again."
I raise the blade.
My hands are shaking. My vision is blurry with tears. Every instinct screams to stop, to drop the weapon, to run.
But I think about Marcus Vane dying with Maya's name in blood. About Judge Pierce paying for his crimes. About 847 years of Rafe hunting monsters alone.
About the chance—however small—that we could have something real.
I aim for his heart.
"I'm sorry," I whisper.
"Don't be."
I thrust forward with all my strength.
The blade slides into his chest like butter. All the way to the hilt, just like he said.
Rafe gasps. His eyes go wide. Silver blood pours from the wound, glowing and strange.
"Isla..." His voice is fading. "It's working. I can feel it. I can feel my power leaving—"
He collapses.
I catch him, and we fall to the floor together. His blood is everywhere—on my hands, my clothes, pooling on the marble.
"Rafe! Rafe, stay with me!"
His eyes flutter. "The blade. Pull it out. I need to... need to die completely before I can resurrect."
"No! I can't—"
"Pull it out!" His hand closes over mine on the handle. "Trust the legend. Trust me. Pull it out and let me die."
I'm sobbing so hard I can barely see. But I grip the blade and pull.
It comes out with a sickening sound. More silver blood gushes from the wound.
Rafe's eyes close.
His heart stops beating under my hand.
He's dead.
I just killed the man I love.
"No, no, no, no." I press my hands to the wound, trying to stop the bleeding even though I know it's too late. "Come back. Please come back. You promised you'd come back."
Nothing happens.
One minute passes. Two. Five.
The silver blood stops glowing. Turns dark. Normal.
Human blood.
"Rafe?" I shake him. "RAFE!"
His eyes snap open.
But they're not silver anymore.
They're brown. Warm, human brown.
"Isla?" His voice is different. Softer. Confused. "Why are you crying?"
"You died! You were dead for five minutes—"
"Five minutes?" He sits up slowly, looking at his hands in wonder. "It felt like centuries. I was somewhere dark. Cold. And then I heard your voice calling me back."
He touches his chest where the wound was. The skin is perfectly healed. No scar. No mark. Just smooth, warm skin.
Warm.
Not cold. Not frozen. Warm.
"Oh my God," Rafe whispers. "I'm warm. I can feel my heart beating. I can feel—" He looks at me with those new brown eyes. "I'm human. I'm actually human."
I throw my arms around him, sobbing into his shoulder.
We did it. The legend worked. He's alive. Human. Mine.
"How do you feel?" I ask.
"Weak. Tired. Hungry." He laughs, and it sounds lighter than before. More real. "I haven't felt hungry in 847 years. It's wonderful."
He kisses me, and for the first time, his lips are warm.
We stay on the floor, holding each other, covered in silver-turned-human blood, for what feels like forever.
Then my phone rings.
James.
I answer with shaking hands. "Hello?"
"Isla, thank God." James sounds panicked. "Where are you? Are you safe?"
"I'm fine. I'm with—"
"Listen to me. Something weird is happening. Three bodies just showed up at the precinct. All dead. All with the R carved into their chests." His voice drops. "They died within the last hour, Isla. All three at once. While you were with Dr. Ashford."
My blood runs cold. "That's impossible. The Reaper is—"
"Still killing. Which means either there are two Reapers, or Dr. Ashford isn't the killer." James pauses. "Unless he has a partner. Someone working with him. Someone who kept killing while he was with you."
I look at Rafe. He's gone pale.
"Lucien," he whispers. "He's killing to frame me. To prove I'm still a Reaper even though I'm human now. When the Council finds out—"
A window shatters.
Lucien crashes through the glass, golden eyes blazing with fury.
"YOU DID IT!" he roars. "You actually gave up immortality for a human! You FOOL!"
He's across the room in a heartbeat, hand around Rafe's throat, lifting him off the ground.
Rafe struggles, but he's human now. Weak. Powerless.
"Lucien, please—" Rafe gasps.
"I told you! I warned you! And you chose her anyway!" Lucien's grip tightens. "Now you're nothing. Just a fragile human I can break like a twig."
I grab the silver blade from the floor. "Let him go!"
Lucien laughs. "What are you going to do, detective? Arrest me? That blade only works on Reapers. I'm 600 years old. You're just a human with a fancy knife."
"Then I'll die trying."
I charge at him.
Lucien flicks his free hand, and I slam into the wall so hard my vision goes black for a second.
When I open my eyes, I'm on the floor. The blade is gone. And Lucien is standing over me with that terrible smile.
"Here's what happens next," he says. "I kill the detective slowly while Rafe watches. Then I kill Rafe. Then I tell the Council that a human killed a Reaper, and they erase both your existences. Everyone wins. Except you two."
He raises his hand, claws extending, ready to tear out my throat.
"STOP!"
The voice comes from the doorway.
Seraphina stands there, silver-gold eyes glowing with ancient power.
"Lucien Cross," she says coldly. "Step away from the humans. Now."
Lucien snarls. "They broke the rules—"
"And you broke Council law by killing three humans tonight without authorization. Revenge kills. Petty, emotional, useless revenge kills." Seraphina steps forward, and the temperature drops twenty degrees. "Did you really think we wouldn't notice?"
Oh God. The three bodies James mentioned. Lucien killed them to frame Rafe.
But it also exposed him.
"They completed the legend," Lucien says desperately. "Raphael is human now. He betrayed us—"
"He followed the ancient laws. The legend is sacred. If a Reaper chooses mortality through true love, that's their right." Seraphina's smile is ice. "But killing without permission? That's a death sentence."
"You can't—"
"I can. I'm Head of the Council. And you, Lucien Cross, are hereby stripped of your immortality and sentenced to human death."
She moves faster than light.
One moment Lucien is standing. The next, Seraphina's hand is through his chest, holding his glowing heart.
She crushes it.
Lucien screams—a horrible, inhuman sound—and then he crumbles to dust.
Gone. Just like that.
The room goes silent.
Seraphina brushes dust off her hands and turns to us.
"You two have twenty-four hours to disappear," she says. "After that, if any Reaper sees you, you're fair game. Run far. Run fast. And Raphael?" Her eyes soften slightly. "Be human well. It's harder than it looks."
She vanishes into shadow.
Leaving me and Rafe alone. Human. Alive. Together.
And completely screwed.
Because we have twenty-four hours before every Reaper in the world starts hunting us.
"Pack light," Rafe says, helping me stand. "We leave in ten minutes."
"Where do we go?"
He takes my hand. His warm, human hand.
"Anywhere they won't find us. Everywhere they won't look." He kisses my forehead. "We run until we can't anymore. And then we run some more."
"Together?"
"Forever."
We have one day.
One day before the hunt begins.
One day to fall in love with being human.
I just hope it's enough.