Not everyone is scared of death.Not everyone runs and hides from it.Some embrace it.Some welcome it.
I, Isabella Morningstar, welcome death as a friend.And a lover.I welcome him as my—
Beep. Beep.
The alarm cuts through the silence like a blade. I jolt awake, drenched in sweat, my heart thundering in my chest like I've just escaped something… or someone.
What the fuck was that?
Before I can gather my thoughts, I see him.
Xavier.
Sitting in the corner of my room like a shadow given form. Still. Watchful. Those bright, unsettling blue eyes pinned on me.
As if he's been there the whole time.
He rises slowly. Every movement is calculated, deliberate. He walks toward the window. Morning light seeps in through the gaps in the curtains, painting gold across the chaos of my sheets.
"So," he says, voice deep and unreadable, "you dream about me as well."
I sit up slowly, the sheet clinging to my sweat-soaked skin. "I have no clue what you're talking about."
He laughs. It's not a sound of joy—more like something dry and dead, like bones scraping together.
He turns, closes the distance in just a few strides, and stands at the edge of my bed.
"What did I say," he murmurs, "about treating me like a fool?"
There's no anger in his tone—only quiet warning. And that somehow makes it worse. A chill dances down my spine.
"I… I don't remember," I whisper, avoiding his gaze.
He smirks, leaning in just enough to invade my air. "Then maybe I need to refresh your memory."
His presence is overwhelming. Heat radiates from him like a storm. The scent of something ancient clings to him—heavy, magnetic. My pulse stutters.
"Xavier… what do you want?"
He tilts his head, eyes drilling into me. "What I've always wanted, Isabella," he says softly. "You."
He steps back, just slightly—just enough for me to breathe.
"Just admit it," he says. "You know what I am. Who I am."
"I don't," I say, firmer now.
He reaches out and brushes his fingers along my necklace, letting the pendant rest between his fingers.
"You know," he murmurs, eyes never leaving mine, "Damien has always just wanted to protect people."
His gaze sharpens. His eyes shift—turning black as ink, endless.
"But he shouldn't touch what isn't his."
He lets go and turns away, striding to the door without another word.
Then he's gone.
I exhale sharply, dropping back against my pillows.
"Fuck sake."
The door opens again. Damien steps in, arms crossed, face unreadable.
"That was intense," he says with a weak smile.
I blink at him. Still breathless.
He chuckles. "Look… my dad's complicated. I just don't want you losing your soul for his selfish gain."
Before I can respond, the door bursts open.
Xavier storms in. And he's not alone. Jessie. My parents.
Xavier's voice cuts through the room like a knife. "Damien. How nice of you to finally show your face."
Damien smirks, unfazed. "I was going to say hello, but saving Isabella seemed more important."
My dad steps forward. "Shay, come on. Let's go downstairs."
I shake my head. "I think I'll stay."
"Shay." There's a warning in his tone.
"No," I snap. "Damien is the only one who's told me the truth. I don't know what any of you want from me. But I trust him. And I'm staying—with him."
Xavier's jaw clenches. His eyes flash. Then—
The floor vanishes.
I hit the ground hard. Pain shoots through my shoulder.
"You fucking cunt!" I scream, dragging myself upright.
Glass shatters. The room trembles.
I run for the door.
Charlie steps in, blocking the way.
"Sit down," he commands.
I glare. "You're not the boss of me."
His eyes flicker violet.
Mine narrow.
Then he drops—collapsing to his knees, gasping for air.
I walk toward him slowly, every step echoing. I stop over him. My voice is a growl.
"Lycans are scum. You're scum. Command me again, and I'll rip you apart."
Mum rushes in. Xavier is right behind her.
"Shay, stop! You'll kill him!" she cries.
Xavier grabs me, spins me around. His grip is strong, but not cruel.
Our eyes lock.
Something in me stills. The fury simmers, but I breathe again.
"Where's Damien?" I ask, voice trembling.
Xavier's eyes don't flicker. "Being punished."
My fists clench. "Why?"
"Because he deserves it."
"For what? Telling me the truth?"
"Yes!" Xavier's voice cracks. "He doesn't know all of it. All he knows is that I'm the Angel of Death… and that you're my soulmate. That for us to be together—"
He hesitates.
"You need to die. And lose your soul."
I stare at him. Then I laugh. Loud. Bitter.
"Oh, why didn't you say that sooner, Xavier?" I mock. "If you'd just said 'hey, I need your soul,' I would've gift-wrapped it."
He steps closer. "Really?"
"No, you idiot!" I scream. "Of course not! I would never die for you. Or anyone. It's me, myself, and I. Always has been. Always will be."
His expression falters.
"Try having a relationship like normal people your age," I snap. "Without soul-stealing and threats."
I storm out. My heart pounds like war drums.
I find Damien. Chained. Bloodied. My father standing over him.
Rage explodes in my chest.
A fireball forms in my palm—hot, wild, alive.
I throw it.
It slams into Dad's back. He roars in pain, staggering.
I drop beside Damien.
"You're getting better at that," he mumbles, half-smiling.
"Shut up," I mutter, untying him. "We're leaving."
We make it into the hallway.
Then Xavier appears.
He sees Damien. Sees me.
His eyes turn black.
"Damien, go," I say.
"What—"
"I said GO."
He runs.
Xavier starts walking toward me, slow and controlled.
"You know what, Isabella?" His voice is quiet.
Cold.
"I've been nice for far too long."