18. Ava

AVA

I ’d gotten used to waking up every morning to a fresh Belladonna Lily on my bedside table, a sign that my stalker had been there while I slept.

What did it say about me that it made me feel… watched over.

Protected.

Safe .

Fucked up, right?

But what I didn’t expect was the small gift left beside it this morning.

I sat up and pushed aside the lily so I could see it properly.

A small black velvet jewelry box. The kind that necklaces or bracelets came in.

Or engagement rings.

I shoved that thought away. As if my stalker would leave me diamonds.

Apprehension filled me as I picked up the soft velvet.

It shifted, like there was something loose inside it .

Not a ring, then.

I carefully pried it open.

Inside the gift box, nestled in the velvet bed like a macabre piece of jewelry, was a human eyeball.

My heart slammed into my throat, the box almost falling from my grasp.

Fuck. It has to be fake. Right?

But I knew it wasn’t when my fingers flinched and it rolled aside to reveal the optic nerve still hanging off the back, pieces of sinew and flesh still clinging to it like a Halloween prop.

Why the fuck would he give me an eye?

And even more importantly, who did this eye belong to?

Then I realized where I’d seen the bright-blue iris flecked with pale gray.

I’d glared into this eye only yesterday.

This was Cormac’s eye.

Oh my God. I snapped the box shut and threw it aside with disgust. It clattered onto my bedside table, knocking the flower to the carpet.

I only then noticed the note.

It had been sitting under the box, a folded piece of notepaper with my name scrawled over the front in messy handwriting. I opened it. And it read:

Now he’ll leave you alone.

~ Scáth

The note slipped from my fingers and I watched it flutter to the ground as a memory rose up from the depths of the locked-up part of my mind.

He casually leaned against his locker as I stormed toward him in the deserted school hallway .

My ponytail in its velvet bow swished against my back in rhythm with my pounding heart. I clutched my schoolbooks to my chest to keep myself from exploding.

“It was you,” I said, fighting back tears because I couldn’t let him see he’d made me cry. “I know it was you.”

As always, his hair was a mess. His tie hung on his shoulders untied; his loafers were scuffed and muddied, and his Oxford shirt hung over the hands he had stuffed into his pockets. The dress code be damned along with everything and everyone.

He smirked at me as if only just noticing that I was there. “Oh, it’s you making all that noise.”

He turned his gaze back up to the ceiling as if to dismiss me.

“Look at me.” I jabbed his ribs. He was going to answer me, goddammit. “Why did you do it?”

He let out a sigh and glared down at me as if I were bothering him. “Do what?”

I shoved him with my free hand.

It didn’t even send him off-balance. He was made of stone, just like his heart.

“You told everyone that I have a contagious skin disease,” I said, feeling tears threaten again.

He smiled with cruel triumph. “Now they’ll leave you alone.”

A tear slipped and I swiped at it in frustration. “Why do you hate me so much?”

He had me up against the lockers so quickly I dropped my books. They scattered on the hallway floor, pages fluttering like frightened doves.

Heat burned in the depths of his eyes made so much more intense by the dark thick rim of long lashes.

“Is that what you think?” he whispered.

I glared up at him. “Why else would you— ”

“What I feel for you…” He ran his nose up against my neck, making me shiver. “I guess it does burn like hate.”

I felt a sickening twist in my stomach. The boy who once shielded me, who stood by my side, turned against me. Why?

What could I have done to make him flip so completely? Why had he stopped being my friend?

The memories were hazy, slipping just out of reach, but the sting of betrayal lingered—like a wound I hadn’t known was there, reopening.

I stared at the closed jewelry box, but the twisted gift inside made my skin crawl.

I shuddered, wrapping my arms around myself as the realization settled in.

Was he threatening me? Or was this just another of his warped attempts to protect me, to keep me close?

My stomach churned at the thought, my mind trying to untangle the mess of it all.

And what if he wasn’t lying about Liath? He swore he didn’t take her. What if he’s telling the truth?

If he didn’t take her… then who did?

I clenched my fists, feeling the frustration build. I had no answers, only more questions.

Every time I thought I was close to figuring it out, the ground shifted beneath me again and nothing made sense anymore.

I didn’t know if I should run from him or trust him.

I could barely concentrate during classes that day. I kept going over my notes on the missing girls .

Liath Byrne.

Sarah Hickey.

Keela Hawkins.

Biological parents either dead or known.

All adopted.

All stalked before they went missing.

All missing presumed ‘runaways’ so no one is looking for them.

Then I added my own name to the list, a chill going through me.

If I didn’t find out who took them soon, I could be next.

I tapped my pen on the paper, my mind going round and round in circles, frustration itching under my skin.

There was something here, a connection I wasn’t seeing yet.

I let out a huff and slammed my notebook shut on the wood desk. Oops. Too loud. I got a few annoyed looks from students around me.

Sorry, I mouthed before sinking back into my chair.

Like all the Darkmoor lecture halls, the aptly named Nevermore Hall exuded old-world academic charm with its gothic chandeliers, ornate wood paneling set in dark-gray walls, and rows of vintage wooden desks rising from the front blackboard.

I tuned out my professor as she went through her Data for Journalists lecture. It wasn’t exactly the most riveting of subjects to begin with.

I sighed as I glanced out the arched window to the courtyard, the line of trees already starting to sprout green shoots.

I froze when I spotted him .

My stalker.

Watching me from behind one of the giant oaks, a skeleton mask over his lower face again.

I shuddered when I remembered his gift, the jewelry box I’d stuffed into a dresser drawer under a pile of folded clothes.

I’d managed to convince myself that it wasn’t my ex’s eye and my stalker didn’t cut it out to scare him into leaving me alone.

I scanned the students in the lecture hall, row by row. I even looked twice to make sure I hadn’t missed him among the perfectly coifed and curled heads.

My stomach hollowed out.

Cormac wasn’t in class today.

I nudged Lisa who was sitting on my other side.

“Babe,” I whispered, “have you heard from Cormac?”

She lifted an eyebrow at me. “Why do you care all of a sudden? Don’t tell me you want to get back together with him?”

I made a face. “I don’t. But Mr. Perfect never misses class.”

Lisa glanced around the lecture hall and hummed under her breath. “Fair point, Miss Perceptive.”

She slipped out her phone and began texting.

“Bish, don’t text him.” I went to snatch her phone away, keeping one eye out for the professor’s notice.

But she held it to her other side out of my reach.

“Chill.” She hissed under her breath. “I’m texting his sister. She’s in my tennis club.”

Moments later her phone vibrated.

Lisa let out a gasp. “Oh my God. ”

“What?” I whispered.

Lisa didn’t reply as her fingers flew across her screen. Her phone buzzed again.

I elbowed her. “Lisa, what ?”

Lisa shook her head, some of her long red hair falling out from her emerald ribboned ponytail. “Cormac’s in the hospital. Some kind of accident…”

She sent another text and her phone vibrated again.

“Holy shit,” she hissed, then lowered her voice. “He lost a fucking eye!”

Horror gripped me with icy, clammy claws, sinking deep into my skin until I felt paralyzed by it.

“How?” I hissed. “Who did it?”

The professor paused in her delivery and I knew I was being too loud, drawing too much attention. But I couldn’t care.

I felt detached from this lecture hall, from the rows of attentive students, from this fucking reality, like I didn’t belong in this normal academic scene.

Lisa chewed her bottom lip as she read the latest texts coming through, her brow knitting together. “He said… it was an accident.”

A shudder rippled through me, and I couldn’t stop the chill crawling down my spine, spreading like frostbite.

It wasn’t just fear—it was something deeper, something darker, wrapping itself around my chest, squeezing until I could barely breathe.

It was no accident.

My stalker had cut out Cormac’s eye to make a point.

Oh God. Cormac had been hurt because of me .

As much as I didn’t like Cormac, as much as I thought he was an entitled prick who didn’t understand the meaning of consent, I didn’t wish him actual harm.

I turned back to the window, to the spot where I last saw Scáth.

My shadowy figure was still there.

Watching.

Waiting.

I had to tell someone about him. I had to turn him in. Right?

Cormac was obviously too frightened to tell the police what had really happened.

So I had to hand that eye over to the police. It was evidence against Scáth.

And with Cormac’s testimony, it would put him away behind bars. And he belonged behind bars, right?

I mean, he was a fucking stalker who cut out eyes for God’s sake. Right?

No matter how much I wanted him to be good, he wasn’t good.

So why, even as I met his gaze from across the courtyard, did it feel like I was betraying him?