Jason sank to his knees as smoke swallowed the sky, the color of it an angry crimson, like the world itself was bleeding. The house before him, her house, collapsed in slow motion, boards shrieking and crumbling as if mourning their own destruction.

His chest caved with a ragged sob, the kind that seemed to come from somewhere deeper than his lungs, deeper even than his body. Everything around him blurred—faces, sirens, flames—until all that remained was the ash.

He should have looked away. Should have closed his eyes.

But he didn't. He couldn't.
The paramedics moved solemnly through the smoke, their silhouettes stark against the firelit haze. The stretchers were draped in white sheets—too still, too final. He counted them without meaning to.
One... two... three.
Jason didn't flinch. His heart was hollowed out, like something had been carved from within him with a hot blade.
It should've been him.
Not Selena.
"No," he whispered hoarsely, his voice splintering. "No, it can't be."
He stumbled backward, eyes wide, brain refusing to bridge the gap between what he saw and what he believed. Reality came in slow waves, each one more unbearable than the last. And then he was moving, sprinting toward the stretchers with a desperate, raw urgency. A rescuer with no one left to save.
"Selena," he choked, reaching trembling hands toward the nearest form.
The heat of the fire still lingered in the air, as if the world itself was scorched. He lifted the sheet with shaking fingers. What stared back at him was no longer her face—just blackened skin, unrecognizable. His mind rejected it. It can't be her. It isn't.

The door shuts behind her with a soft thud.


I start the car and pull out of the university lot like we're not leaving a storm behind us, like we're not carrying secrets in the backseat.


She's just sitting there, quiet, thoughtful. Her hands rest in her lap. She looks out the window, her lashes low, the light catching on her skin like it's trying to protect her.


I know she has questions.About why I showed up like that. Why did I drag her off campus like we were running from something?


And I'm the reason she keeps getting caught in crossfire, she doesn't even know exists.


She looks down. "It's Jennifer," she murmurs and picks up.


I don't eavesdrop on purpose, but her voice is gentle, tired.


"Hey, Jen… yeah, I'm okay. I'm sorry; I had to change plans last minute. Something came up with Jason."


Chapter 67 - Used to be mine.