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She hesitated, then let me touch her. Barely. I pressed my forehead to her knees, breathing in the scent of her skin. My hands gripped her calves.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I whispered, rocking back and forth, the old motion that used to keep the ghosts away. “I’ll be better. I have to be better. I’ll show you. I’ll take care of you, bluebird. I’ll make tea, I’ll make dinner, I’ll—fuck, I’ll do anything. Just don’t leave again. Don’t ever leave me.”

Her hand hovered over my head, not quite touching. “Malakar…I’m so tired. I can’t take this anymore. I don’t want to die down here.”

My rage spiked. “You think I want this?” I snarled, surging to my feet. “You think I want to be like this? If you just listened, if you just stayed, I wouldn’t have to lock you up! I wouldn’t have to hurt you!”

She flinched again. The chain rattled. I saw her brace for a blow that didn’t come. I spun away, pacing, muttering to myself.

“They all leave,” I muttered, nails digging into my scalp. “No matter what you do. You can’t let them go, or they’ll never come back. You have to keep them. You have to keep them, or the dark will eat you.”

Shadows spilled across the floor. They reached out to choke me. I saw faces in the brick. Empty eyes, gaping mouths, all the girls I’d failed, all the girls who didn’t learn to love the cage.

My vision blurred, black around the edges. I felt myself slipping, felt the world tilting, the ground rushing up to meet me. I dug my nails into my palms, desperate to stay here, to stay with her.

I heard a voice. My mother, eyes wide, crouching in the far corner. Don’t let him in, Milo. Don’t let the dark in.

But the dark came in, it came in and took so many lives.

I remembered all the other girls. The way they looked at me, the fear in their eyes, the way their bodies went limp when the life drained out. I saw a flash of bone, a broken necklace, a heart floating in a jar. Their voices crowded the room, whispering, accusing, screaming my name.

You killed us. You’ll kill her, too.

“No, no, no—” I rocked, harder and harder, clutching Starla like a drowning man. “Not her. Not my bluebird.”

My hands shook so badly it was all I could do not to squeeze the life out of her. I wanted her inside me, under my skin, so close she couldn’t ever fucking leave.

I forced myself to let go. I stood, wiping snot from my face, humiliated by my weakness.

“I’ll prove it,” I said, more to myself than her. “I’ll prove I can take care of you.”

I ran upstairs, tore through the kitchen, grabbing bread, water, tea. The things I thought she’d want. I made her a sandwich with trembling hands.

I brought the tray back down, set it at her feet. “Eat,” I ordered, voice rough. Then, softer. “Please. I made it for you. I want you to feel safe here.”

She reached for the sandwich, her hand shaking so badly the bread fell apart. I watched her eat, soaking in every bite, every swallow. I needed her to live. I needed her to be mine.

When she finished, I knelt beside her, stroking her hair. “You’re so pretty, bluebird. So soft. I could keep you here forever. We could be happy. Just you and me. No more running.”

She didn’t answer. Her eyes were dull, empty, as if she’d already checked out.

My anger flared. “Say thank you,” I snapped. “I made it for you. You should be grateful.”

Her lips barely moved. “Thank you.”

It wasn’t enough. I grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at me. “Mean it,” I demanded. “Don’t just say it because you have to. I’m trying, can’t you see I’m fucking trying?”

She nodded, tears slipping down her cheeks. “Thank you, Malakar. Thank you for taking care of me.”

I released her, disgusted by my neediness. I paced, nerves buzzing, skin too tight for my bones.

The voices were louder now. My father’s rage, my mother’s singing, the pleading of all the girls who came before. Blood on the walls. Chains rattling. The dark pressing in.

I saw her flinch every time I raised my voice, every time I moved too fast, every time my mood swung from desperate to dangerous in the space of a single breath.

I wanted to hurt her. I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to bury her bones in the yard and plant flowers over her grave. I wanted to set the whole fucking house on fire just to see the dark burn.

The truth was black and cold. I knew it was a lie. I knew the dark would win. I knew that one day, I’d lose her for good. When that day came, I’d burn the world to ashes just to get her back.