Sam had just left, and I was still gasping for air. My lungs working overtime to pull in breath. My chest rose and fell in quick, erratic bursts, the adrenaline coursing through me making my hands shake as I gripped the edge of the kitchen counter. The pounding in my chest wasn’t from exertion… it was fear; a fear I’d only ever felt in my closest brushes with death. Hunts that went sideways and we almost lost everything. It felt like those times… when death reached out and made us realize how close we were to the end. My heart thudded so hard it seemed like it was trying to claw its way out of my throat, each beat reverberating with the immensity of what Sam had just told me. About what he was...
The room still felt suffocating, the air thick with the dark truths he’d shared. The Primeval… the thing inside him wasn’t just some dark creature. It was beyond this world… before this world. The one who commanded Sam… bound him to the monster… it was Death itself. A trifecta of power and consciousness raged around and within Sam. Forces that had fused with him, shaping his every step, every action since his life was stolen from him. I could still see the flicker of that darkness in his eyes when he spoke about it, the faint, haunting glow that didn’t belong to him, but to the ancient beast coiled in his soul… Myoordrakien. It was like staring into a void that hungered to swallow everything… the entire world.
I felt small, insignificant in the shadow of the horror he carried inside. But even with all the dread clinging to my thoughts, one truth remained unwavering: I wasn’t afraid of him. Not Sam. No matter how monstrous the force tethered to him, the doom that followed him… I couldn’t fear the man who had just walked out my front door. I wouldn’t let myself.
But that didn’t stop the trembling in my limbs or the cold sweat dripping down the back of my spine. My mind raced, replaying every detail of his revelation, every flicker of pain in his voice, every shadow in his mind. I had seen the toll it had taken on him, everything he hadn’t said yet; how he felt about it all. The load of the cursed burden gnawing at his soul, the battles he fought alone in the darkness of his mind. I had seen his strength, but now I understood its cost.
The pieces clicked into place, each realization hitting harder than the last. Every time he disappeared for days, weeks, sometimes even months without explanation, it wasn’t because he didn’t want me… or didn’t care for me. It was his master… Death. It demanded him, dragging him across the world to snuff out lives, to deliver its dark justice; its grim finality. He hadn’t been running from me… he’d been fighting to protect me, to keep this cursed existence from consuming the fragile relationship we’d built in secret.
I gritted my teeth, dread rising in my stomach as I thought about the torment he must have endured. The nights he must have spent alone, clawing at the edges of his humanity to keep the Primeval’s craving for death from overwhelming him. I hated that he thought he had to bear it all by himself, hated that he believed he didn’t deserve help, or love, because of the monster inside him.
But Sam wasn’t a monster. He was a man battling one. And he wasn’t just fighting for himself… he was fighting for us. For me. For my family. The sheer will it must have taken to keep going, to keep that thing on a leash when it wanted to slay everything around him… it left me in awe.
Yet, as much as I admired his strength, it scared me. I was terrified of losing him, not to death, but to the beast within. Terrified that one day, the weight would be too much, and he’d let it take over. And still, I knew I wouldn’t walk away. I couldn’t.
He thought he didn’t deserve to be loved. But he was wrong. I saw the cracks in his armor, the moments where he let his guard down and just was; where he smiled, where he let me in. I knew those moments were rare, fleeting, but they were enough. Enough to show me the man beneath the curse, the man worth every risk, every fear. The man I could get to… eventually. I just couldn’t give up on him… couldn’t let him stumble into the lonely dark again.
Sam had already chosen to fight for us, even when he thought he was undeserving. And I had already chosen him, despite the darkness, despite the danger. No matter what came next, I’d stand beside him. As long as I had breath, I would want him… no matter what that meant for my life.
My legs wobbled beneath me as I pushed away from the counter, my breath still coming in uneven, shaky bursts. The lingering doom of Sam’s inner monster clung to the room, a faint charge in the air that I wasn’t ready to let go of… even if it scared me. I wished with every fiber of my being that he hadn’t left. If he had a phone, I would’ve called him already, begged him to come back. The weight of his absence pressed down on me, unbearable. I just wished I hadn’t reacted the way I had. Maybe he would have stayed. He wanted to give me space… but I didn’t want that. I wanted him to come back.
I needed to clear my head. A cold shower… that’s what I told myself. Something sharp to break through the fog of adrenaline and emotion. My hands trembled as I made my way to the stairs, each step a struggle like my joints were made of lead. But before I could climb the first one, a knock at the door shattered the silence.
I froze. My heart lurched, hope rushing in like a tidal wave. Could it be? It had to be Sam. My breath caught, anticipation flooding my veins. He couldn’t stay away… not after everything. Maybe he had turned around, unable to leave things as they were. I could almost see his face, those piercing blue eyes softened by the weight he carried. The thought filled me with warmth, a spark of reassurance in the storm of uncertainty. I just wanted to open that door and get my hands on him.
I barely felt my feet move as I rushed to the door, the world narrowing to the sound of my pulse pounding in my ears. My hands fumbled with the knob, my heart racing with the desperate hope that he had come back. That he couldn’t bear to leave, just like I couldn’t bear to let him go.
I threw the door open, my lips already parting to greet him, to spill every word I had bottled up since he’d left. But the sight in front of me stole the air from my lungs.
It wasn’t Sam.
Patrick stood on the doorstep, his expression unreadable under the porch light. My heart plummeted, crashing down so hard it felt like it might tear right through me. The sharp contrast between hope and reality left me momentarily speechless, my pulse still racing from the momentum of disappointment.
“Patrick?” I managed, my voice flat with confusion, my mind scrambling to adjust. “What are you doing here?”
I glanced past him, half-expecting Kayla to be there, standing quietly by his side. They’d grown closer in recent weeks, sharing their grief, leaning on each other in ways only those who’d suffered such deep losses could. But there was no sign of her. He was alone, and somehow that made the disappointment sharper.
Patrick shifted his weight, his mouth opening as if to say something, but I could barely focus on him. The echo of Sam’s absence filled the doorway like a ghost. I swallowed hard, trying to shake the hollow ache in my chest.
This wasn’t what I wanted. Not now.
"Hey," Patrick said, his voice carrying a strange, sheepish edge. "You home all alone?" His little ponytail flipped side to side as he glanced around me into the house.
"Yeah," I replied curtly, brushing off the awkwardness. His expression didn’t sit right with me… something was off with him. He was nervous or afraid of something. I’d seen that look before, and it always made my stomach tighten. The last time I’d seen him like this, he’d been begging me to give us another chance, dredging up the past in some desperate attempt to make things right. Ti make me love him again. I prayed this wasn’t one of those moments.
"Was Sam just here?" He asked, the words lingering like he was about to retract them.
"Yeah, why?" I shot back, my frustration already simmering beneath the surface.
His eyes flickered, his tone shifting, like he was probing for something deeper. "Does your mom and dad know he's back?" There was something in his voice that made my skin crawl… an edge of ownership, like he thought he had some kind of claim on me. Like he knew what was best for me… what my parents would think. I clenched my fists at my sides, trying to keep my cool.
I tilted my head, giving him a sharp, confused look. "What’s your point?" I didn’t want to escalate things, but I struggled against the growing irritation. I didn’t want to fight him… he had just lost his father to Peter Grimwood… but I wasn’t going to stand here while he tried to stake some kind of claim on me.
I changed the subject before he could dig any deeper. "What are you doing here, Patrick? Is something wrong, or are you just looking for Kayla?"
"No," he said, shaking his head, "I'm not looking for Kayla. I was looking for you." His words hit me like a poison dart; instantly infecting me with his bullshit.
Oh shit. I knew it was coming. That’s when I noticed the backpack slung over his shoulder. It looked light, almost flat against his back, but something about it set off a warning bell in my head. The thought hit me hard… what if he’d snapped? What if he had a gun in there, and he was planning to pull it on me? My teeth gritted together as I forced myself to relax, trying to keep my stance subtle but ready. I needed to be prepared, just in case. The more I thought about his behavior, the more I realized how nervous and unsure he seemed, like he was struggling to work up the courage for something. Like there was a secret he was holding back… something he’d done… or was about to do.
"What is this?" I asked, my voice cutting through the tension. I wasn’t going to dance around it. We needed to get to the point.
Patrick dropped his gaze to the floor, his breathing ragged as if he was holding something back. He shifted uncomfortably, like every word was a struggle. "Autumn, I just... I feel like I'm losing everything. First, it was you, then it was my dad, now you’re with Sam... I just..." He trailed off, his voice cracking as he tried to find the right words. "If you're with him, it just feels so final. Like there’s no chance for us… ever again."
I let out a frustrated sigh. "Patrick, I’ve told you this so many times." My voice was sharp now, cutting through the air between us. "We are over. We have been for a long time. I’m sorry if I led you on when Sam disappeared the first time, but that’s on me. I was going through something. I know that doesn’t make it right, but that's all it was. I don’t feel that way about you, and I never will again." It was brutal… but it was the truth, and he had to hear it. I took a step closer, trying to make him see sense. "You need to accept that and move on. You’ve got Kayla, she’s been here this whole time. You both are dealing with the same shit right now. She is so invested in you it’s mind-boggling. Why can’t you see that?"
His eyes snapped to me, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. "What?" he asked, completely lost.
I could feel the frustration boiling in my chest, but I pushed it down, trying to stay as calm as I could. "What I’m saying, Patrick, is that you need to stop holding on to something that’s not there anymore. You’re missing out on things right in front of you.”
Patrick’s blank stare was almost comical, his brain visibly struggling to process my words like a bad computer on its last leg. You could practically hear the gears in his head grinding as he tried to piece together the puzzle I’d just handed him. Spoiler: the pieces weren’t fitting.
"Damn, Patrick, you’re fucking blind," I said, half-joking but mostly serious, throwing my hands up like I was explaining math to a toddler. It was honestly just exasperating. "Can’t you see how into you she is? I swear, guys are the absolute worst at noticing what’s right in front of them. Kayla’s been into you for ages. Like, seriously, she’s practically been waving a giant neon sign in your face that says, ‘I like you, dumbass!’ But no, of course, you don’t see it." I rolled my eyes for emphasis.
Patrick blinked, his confusion deepening. "I just thought… I mean, she’s always around you. I figured she was just… wanting to be near you. Same as me," he admitted, scratching the back of his neck in confusion and embarrassment.
I let out a long sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Okay, first of all, that time has passed… as I already said,” I reiterated. “Second, I’m not telling you to go bother her instead of me. I’m just saying you’ve got options, Patrick. But don’t think you can just hop from me to her because you’re craving some attention. Kayla’s not some backup plan, got it? If you don’t feel that way about her… or mess with her feelings just to get what you want, I swear, I’ll personally make your life a living hell." I gave him a deadpan look that said I meant business.
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Patrick raised his hands defensively. "No, no, I wouldn’t do that. It’s not like I’ve never thought about her in that way… I have, but…I just never thought she was an option. She has always lived so far away… and when she does come around, she’s just... I don’t know, she’s always been so…"
"Aggressive?
"Kind of," he admitted, his voice sheepish.
“Like a school bully pulling your little ponytail at recess?" I interjected, smirking. I actually laughed at that, shaking my head. "Patrick, have you ever heard that saying about little kids? How boys act when they like little girls… by pulling their hair or picking on them? That’s exactly what Kayla’s been doing."
His eyes dimmed for a moment as he absorbed this, but then, finally, a light clicked on. "Wait, are you serious? How long has she been like that? Feels like forever."
"Exactly." I gestured at him like I was presenting an award for Most Oblivious Idiot of the Year. "Since we broke up, she’s been asking about you more and more, hanging around whenever she’s in town. I know she’s texted you a lot over the past year or so. If she didn’t live so far with her dad and uncle before everything with Peter, you two would’ve been inseparable by now. You’re just too dense to notice. She grew up being raised by two tough men… hunters who taught her to be tough and fight. She has difficulty expressing things…"
Patrick exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair, shoving a stray lock behind his ear that had escaped his little ponytail. "Shit. I guess I owe her an apology," he muttered, staring down at the snow-packed porch like it held all the answers. "I’ve probably been ignoring her without even realizing it."
"Yeah, probably," I said dryly. "So, what are you going to do? She’s still in town, right? Either staying with Arthur or crashing at some friends’ place."
"Actually, Arthur’s been staying with Aunt Shelta here and there. I think they’re, uh… bonding." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, and I couldn’t help but snort.
"Wait… what?" I blinked, caught off guard. "Arthur and Shelta? Like, together together?"
Patrick shrugged, grinning. "Looks that way. Started out as grief bonding, but now... I think they’re a thing."
"Huh," I mused, the gears in my own head turning. It was weird to think about stoic, no-nonsense Arthur with someone as quiet and detached as Aunt Shelton, but honestly? It kind of made sense. If two statues were ever meant to stand side by side, it was them.
"Anyway," Patrick continued, "Kayla hasn’t been with him, so I haven’t seen her. Maybe I should call her, check in."
I gave him a knowing smile. "Oh, you should call her. It’ll probably make her day… hell, her whole year. But listen," I leaned in, lowering my voice to a mock-threatening tone, "don’t get any weird ideas. She’s vulnerable right now, and if you pull some creep move… play with her feelings, sleep with her, and then ditch her,” I put my most serious face on. “I will beat the shit out of you." My face was stone-cold serious.
Patrick chuckled nervously, raising his hands again. "Okay, okay, I get it. No funny business, I promise."
For once, he looked genuinely eager, like he actually wanted to fix things with Kayla after years of being oblivious, ignoring her, and pushing her to the wayside in his blindness. But then his expression faltered, his smile slipping into something more uncertain.
"Sorry for just… showing up like this," he said, his voice tightening. "I didn’t mean to dump all this on you or bring up old memories. It’s just... everyone’s dealing with stuff in their own way. Aunt Shelta’s all stoic, Mom’s a wreck, and I… I feel so alone. I thought maybe if I came here, we could hang out… I could get away from it all… like when we were kids. But,” he admitted, casting his eyes to his bag. “There’s more to it." He hesitated, swallowing hard. "Something I haven’t told anyone yet."
Patrick’s hand trembled as it hovered near the strap of his bag. His eyes darted around, avoiding mine, like he was trying to decide if he should speak or bolt. The weight of whatever secret he was carrying pressed down on him, visible in every tense movement.
“What is it?” I asked, keeping my voice steady, but my body on edge. Something in his demeanor screamed that this wasn’t going to be some harmless confession.
Patrick swallowed hard. “I haven’t told anyone about this,” he began, his voice tight. “Because…I don’t know how they’d react.”
His hand fumbled with the bag, and I watched him draw it open with slow, deliberate care. My pulse quickened.
“Peter…” he said, barely above a whisper, “when he was still alive…he visited me.”
That name alone made my stomach twist. Patrick glanced up, his eyes filled with a growing dread. “He told me he could give me everything I ever wanted. Said he understood what it felt like to lose a love, to lose the person you cared about most.”
Patrick reached into the bag, his breath hitching. “And then he gave me this.”
He pulled out the object, and my heart leaped into my throat. For a split second, I thought it might be a gun, and every muscle in my body tensed, ready to lunge if I had to. But it wasn’t a weapon, at least, not one I recognized immediately.
It was a hairbrush.
“What…the fuck?” I blurted, my initial fear shifting to disgust as I eyed the loose strands of hair tangled in its bristles. “You seriously pulled out that like it was some toxic weapon? And with hair on it?” My immediate disgust was a little over the top, but I thought it was going to be a gun. So most of my reaction was relief.
He looked down at it, his face pale. “It’s yours,” he said quietly. “Peter gave it to me. He said it was…a weapon.”
I froze. A cold dread settled over me as I stared at the familiar green plastic. There was no mistaking it now; it was mine, something from my dorm room. But why the hell would Peter Grimwood, of all people, give it to Patrick?
“A weapon?” I asked, my voice low.
“Against Sam,” Patrick admitted, his grip on the brush tightening like he was holding a live grenade. “Peter said he knew I hated Sam. Knew how much I wanted you back. He told me…this could hurt Sam. In a way that I never could.”
My mind raced, my teeth grinding as I fought to contain the anger bubbling beneath the surface. “What does it do, Patrick?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice cracking. “He never told me how to use it. Just said to keep it close.”
I stared at him, the weight of his confession sinking in. If this brush was tied to Peter, it wasn’t just some sentimental keepsake. It was dangerous. My voice hardened. “You shouldn’t have kept it.”
Patrick looked down, shame coloring his face. “I didn’t want to believe him. But I… I thought maybe…”
“Maybe what?” I snapped. “Maybe you’d use it if things didn’t go your way? If Sam came back… like he did tonight?” I was primed and ready. I wanted to dive at Patrick and punch him right in his front teeth.
His head jerked up, panic flashing in his eyes. “No! I would never…” He exhaled shakily. “I just didn’t know what to do. I don’t want to hurt anyone. I can see now…I was wrong… I should have brought this to everyone sooner.”
I watched him carefully, then nodded. “Good. Then give it to me.”
Patrick hesitated. “What are you going to do with it?”
“Put it somewhere safe. We’ll tell my parents when they get back, and we’ll figure out how to destroy it.”
He looked at the brush one last time, then held it out toward me. “Okay.”
I reached for it, our fingers brushing together as I grabbed the handle. The moment my skin touched his, a searing jolt shot through me. My vision went white, then green, a blinding flash that seemed to fill every corner of my mind.
It wasn’t just light… it was overwhelming. I felt like I was drowning in it, the fiery green pulsing with a sinister energy that clawed at my thoughts… filling every thought in my head. My heart slammed against my ribs as the world around me vanished, replaced by a swirling, malevolent force. And somewhere, deep in that terrible glow, I felt something watching.
Something… not alive… but not truly dead.
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I had to find Patrick. The urgency gripped me, a relentless need to fix everything I had let unravel. I replayed the last time I saw him, letting him think I didn’t care. I remembered so long ago… the harsh words I’d thrown at him when we broke up the first time. All the pain I’d caused him. I’d made him wait, left him in the dark… ignored him for too long. But no more.
When I opened my eyes, there he was… right in front of me, talking like nothing had changed. Like we hadn’t lost so much time. A wave of guilt and relief crashed over me, almost knocking the breath out of my lungs. How could I have let him wait this long? How could I have been so selfish?
“Patrick,” I said, my voice trembling. Without another thought, I stepped forward, grabbing him and pulling him into a fierce embrace. I needed him close… closer than words could convey. I wrapped my arms around him, holding him tighter, as if letting go would break me. I started crying, uncontrollably, praying he’d forgive me.
“Autumn… what are you doing?” His voice was cautious, unsure, and it only made my chest ache more. I couldn’t blame him. Not after everything.
“I’m sorry, Patrick,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. “I know it’s been so long, I know how much I’ve put you through… but I can’t keep denying it anymore. No matter how hard I tried to push you away… I can't anymore. I can’t keep hiding behind hunting, behind my family, behind everything we’ve had to deal with because of this life… and Sam. I’ve been a coward, and I’ve hurt you. But I don’t want to run anymore. I want to start over… right where we left off.”
I poured everything into my words, searching his eyes for any sign that he understood, that he believed me. I could see the flicker of confusion, the hesitance, but also something deeper… hope. There it was… he wanted me too. It wasn’t too late!
“Autumn, I…” He hesitated, his brows scrunching together. “I don’t know what to say. You just said…”
“You don’t have to say anything,” I whispered, cupping his face in my hands. Before he could protest, I pressed my lips to his, pouring all my desperation, my regret, and my longing into the kiss. It was fierce, almost frantic. I could feel his initial resistance, the uncertainty, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t.
Why had I let myself stray so far? Why had I wasted so much time on Sam? Sam, who had been nothing but a fleeting shadow in our lives. He wasn’t family. He wasn’t one of us… not one of the three strong families that were bound together through the hunt. He had shown up when it was convenient, then disappeared when things got tough… like during the final battle with Peter. Patrick had been there. He’d always been there. And I had pushed him away. But not anymore.
Patrick tried to pull back slightly, his voice muffled against my lips. “Autumn, wait… are you sure? You just…what about Kayla? You’re confusing me…” he couldn’t understand my actions… but I couldn’t fault him. How long had it been that I’d put him through the wringer? I honestly couldn’t remember… my mind was hazy. But it didn’t matter. We were here now… and we would start anew.
I shook my head, my hands still cradling his face. “It doesn’t matter what I said before. I’ve said a lot of things, Patrick, but this is what I want. Kayla will be fine. She’ll move on. She has to.” My voice dropped, urgent and commanding. “Just… shut up and kiss me.”
I kissed him again, more insistently, pouring every ounce of myself into it. A fire burned in my chest, spreading through my veins, consuming me. The only thing that could quench it was him… his touch, his warmth, his presence.
And then I felt it: the shift. Patrick’s resistance melted away. He stopped questioning, stopped overthinking. His hands moved to my waist, pulling me closer, holding me like he’d been waiting for this moment as long as I had. He finally gave in, and the relief was intoxicating.
For the first time in what felt like forever, everything felt right. All I needed was him!
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The next morning, Patrick and I woke up together, and everything felt perfect. My heart swelled, my chest felt light, and I couldn’t stop smiling. It was like every piece of my life had finally fallen into place. I took a deep breath of the crisp morning air, letting it fill me with the thrilling certainty that we were exactly where we were meant to be. The wintry cold crept in through the cracks in the window seals, prickling at our skin that was uncovered by my blankets. I pulled them up over us, keeping our body heat inside the cave of fabric. It was warm… cozy… and I felt at home with him. Patrick and I were back together. No more doubts, no more games. And nothing… absolutely nothing, was ever going to come between us again.
Mom and Dad hadn’t been home last night while Patrick was here, but honestly, I couldn’t remember where they’d gone. The more I tried to think about it, the fuzzier the details became. I must’ve been completely wiped from my workout yesterday. Yeah, that had to be it. I remembered exercising in the afternoon… vaguely… but the rest of the day? It was all a blur. Strange, but whatever. Who cared? None of that mattered now. Not since I had him back.
After a while of cuddling into Patrick in the warmth of my bed, I slipped out quietly, careful not to wake him. He looked so peaceful lying there, and I wanted him to stay that way. I’d make him breakfast, something special, something perfect, and surprise him when he woke up. I had so much to make up for, and this was just the beginning. My stomach fluttered with excitement as I went downstairs, imagining the look on his face when he saw everything I’d prepared.
Peeking out the side door to the garage, I noticed the Suburban was back. Mom and Dad must’ve returned late last night. I’d have to ask them where they went later… if I even remembered to. Right now, the only thing on my mind was Patrick.
I opened the fridge, pulling out eggs, bacon, and then… why not? Champagne and orange juice. This was a celebration, after all. We were back together, and that called for mimosas. I grinned to myself as I gathered everything. The smell of sizzling bacon, the soft pop of the champagne cork… it was all part of the perfect morning I was crafting for us. Nothing could ruin this.
Peter was dead. Patrick was mine again. The only shadow looming over us was Sam, and I prayed he stayed gone; wherever he was. I knew it sounded cold, but the more I thought about him, the less I cared. He was a fleeting chapter in my life, one I didn’t need to reopen. He’d made his choices, and whatever mess he was tangled up in now wasn’t my problem. I couldn’t save everyone. My life was my own, and Sam? He could stay in the shadows or in the grave for all I cared. It was better that way. Cleaner. My family could move on… move forward.
As I shut the fridge, a bright yellow Post-it caught my eye. A note from Mom and Dad: If you see Sam, call this number. I stared at it for a moment, a flicker of irritation sparking in my chest. Sam again. Always Sam. Without thinking, I snatched the note, crumpled it into a tight ball, and tossed it into the trash. I didn’t need him intruding on my life anymore. I’d delete his number from my phone later, wipe out any trace of him. This was my time now… with Patrick. Our time.
I poured myself a mimosa, strong and sweet, and sipped it as I cooked. The warmth of the alcohol spread through me, mingling with the exhilaration already buzzing in my veins. Everything was perfect… the smell of breakfast filling the air, the soft hum of the house still sleeping, and most of all, Patrick upstairs, waiting for me.
Once everything was ready, I loaded up a tray and carried it to the bedroom, my heart racing with anticipation. This was it, the start of our new life together. My first full day with Patrick. And nothing, not Sam, not anyone, was ever going to ruin this.