my mouth in a silent plea to end this incessant torture.
“Hadley?” Brax shouts in concern. And then, louder, “Hadley?! Baby?”
“What’s wrong with her?”
“Caius, do something!”
“Hadley!”
Their voices begin to mesh together as I surrender to the pain. Every muscle in my body locks together as I jerk, finally able to release a pained scream. The sound reverberates through Hell’s tunnels as someone strokes my hair and someone else whispers my name.
Just as quickly as it began, the pain stops, leaving me feeling oddly bereft.
“Hadley?” Auston demands urgently, and I realize at some point, he moved my head onto his lap. It’s his fingers I feel stroking through my matted waves.
My body trembles with phantom pain as I stare into his ice-blue gaze, blinking rapidly to dispel the tears burning my eyes. I thought death was supposed to put an end to your pain and suffering.
What a bunch of horse shit.
“What happened?” My voice is raspy, groggy, as if I’m just now waking up after weeks asleep.
“You just started screaming, baby,” Karston answers, and when I flick my eyes in his direction, I see that his face is unusually pale, even for a Ghost, and his lips are curled downwards. One of his trembling hands caresses my face, his thumb stroking across my cheekbone.
“What the fuck happened?” Brax demands, and at first, I think he’s addressing me. When I wearily twist my head on Auston’s lap, I see him staring pointedly in Caius’s direction. From this angle, I can’t decipher the expression on his face, but his body radiates a raw, animalistic fury and a primal possessiveness. He moves until his body is partially blocking mine from the shadowy Fate.
“Are you okay now?” Preston whispers as he gently grabs my hand. Something akin to desperation is etched onto his handsome face as he stares down at me.
“There’s no more pain,” I answer immediately, but…
I don’t think I’m okay.
There’s an absence in my chest, one I can’t quite put my finger on.
“Hadley,” Caius says, the urgency in his voice making my hackles rise. “Call on your scythe?”
“What?” I blink at him wordlessly as he glides forward, and for a brief moment, I swear I see a flash of his dark eyes and the stubble coating his jaw before the shadows once more consume him.
“Please, sweetheart,” he begs, ignoring Brax’s demand that he explain what’s happening.
Feeling hesitant, I call on my power the way I did during the fight, fully expecting for the scythe to materialize in my hand.
But nothing happens.
My confusion intermixing with trepidation, I call on the power a second time, even going so far as to sit up and extend my hand. With bated breath, I wait.
And wait.
And wait.
Like before, no scythe appears.
“What the hell?” I murmur as Preston stares down at me in dawning horror.
“I think we figured out a timeline.” Caius’s voice is darker than I’ve ever heard it, a sound of darkness and death. Monsters and beasts.
“What the fuck do you mean by that?” Auston growls out, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me flush against his chest. I lean my head back on his shoulder as confusion thrums through me.
Why can’t I use Preston’s power anymore? Why can’t I call on the scythe? Why can’t I—
Ohhh. Fuck.
“Hadley’s soul already burned through Preston’s essence,” Caius explains, reiterating where my own thoughts had led. “And based on my calculations, it took exactly twenty-four hours.”
Brax’s face drains of all color where he still hovers in front of me.
“So that means…?”
“That means we have three days, give or take, to reunite her soul with her essence. If we don’t, she’s going to burn through the rest of your essences and become comatose once more,” Caius finishes gravely. He reaches a wispy hand out, and I could’ve sworn I felt it caress my cheek. But of course, he can’t actually physically touch me in this form, so I know it’s my imagination.
Still, goosebumps erupt across my skin as I stare at his dark, inscrutable face.
“Pres,” Auston’s voice has me spinning towards my grim-faced Reaper, “see if you can call on your scythe. Maybe the power went back to you.”
“If that’s the case, we can do what we did before when Hadley runs out of time,” Brax adds resolutely. To me, he adds, “You’ll be okay, baby girl. I promise.”
Preston extends a shaky hand, eyes narrowed in concentration, but nothing happens. His brows furrow further as he stares intently at his outstretched hand, but no scythe appears.
Finally, Preston drops his hands