Chapter Six

Drake

The phone rang just as I was finishing up the books in the back office at Sugar Rush, the glow of the desk lamp casting a faint circle of light over the mess of papers. I didn't even have to look at the screen to know who it was. Delilah. Her timing was, as always, impeccable—just when I thought I could get a moment to think.

I let out a slow breath before answering, already bracing for the conversation that was about to unfold.

"Delilah," I greeted her, forcing a calmness into my voice that I didn't feel.

"Drake, darling," her voice purred through the receiver, soft and dangerous, like a serpent coiled in silk. "I've been looking at the reports, and I have to say, things aren't turning around fast enough for my liking."

There it was. The subtle accusation wrapped in faux concern. I could practically picture her lounging in her Manhattan penthouse, draped in designer silk, her long red nails tapping rhythmically against the glass of her wine. She never did like getting her hands dirty, but she loved watching others squirm.

I leaned back in the chair, rubbing a hand across my jaw as I stared at the stack of invoices in front of me. "It's only been a few weeks since I got here, Delilah. You can't expect a full turnaround overnight."

"I can," she countered smoothly, her voice hardening just enough to make her point. "And I do. We don't have time to waste on sentimentality. Fire the staff. All of them. You know that's what needs to happen. Start fresh, and then come back to New York where you belong."

Her words felt like a slap, sharp and deliberate. Fire the staff? After everything they'd put into this place? After the progress we were starting to make? The thought of letting them go—Alice, who'd practically poured her life into the candy store, or Noah, whose talent was undeniable—made my stomach twist.

"No," I said firmly, keeping my tone steady. "That's not the solution. Alice Henderson has been with this shop for years. She doesn't know anything else. And Noah Bennett... Noah has real talent as a pastry chef. He's already working on new candy designs that could turn things around. We don't need to start over. What we need is to invest more in the people who are already here."

"Invest in them?" she echoed, her voice dripping with disdain. "Are you going soft on me, Drake? Since when did you care about these...humans and their pathetic little lives?"

I gritted my teeth, holding back the retort that threatened to slip out. She was pushing me, poking at the cracks she knew were there. "I'm not going soft," I said slowly, deliberately. "I'm thinking about what's best for the business. Raise their salaries, give Noah the creative freedom to show what he can do. If morale improves, sales will follow."

There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line, and I could almost hear the gears turning in her mind, calculating whether or not my argument had any merit. But I knew Delilah too well. She didn't care about merit. She cared about control. Power. The same things I did. Right? My forehead furrowed.

"Interesting," she mused finally, her voice low and dangerous. "But I have to wonder, Drake...is this sudden bout of compassion really about the shop? Or is it about your new little employee? The pretty one? What's her name again? Bethany?"

I stiffened, a chill running down my spine. "What do you know about Bethany?"

Delilah laughed, the sound dark and amused, like she was savoring the crackle of tension over the phone line. "I have eyes everywhere, darling. Or did you forget? Part of your soul belongs to me. I feel everything you do. I see everything you do."

Her words hit me like ice water, a cold reminder of the deal I'd made all those years ago. I had given up part of my soul for power, for immortality, for the chance to be more than the nothing I'd been before. And in return, I was bound to her whims, her control. Even now, hundreds of miles away, she had a hold on me.

"Bethany Snow isn't the problem," I said through gritted teeth. "The problem is that you're too focused on short-term results. This place has potential, but you have to give it time. Let me work with them. Let me fix it."

"Fix it?" Delilah repeated, her tone mocking. "Darling, you've already wasted too much time in Sweetberry Hollow with nothing to show for it. Frankly, you should be packing your bags to get yourself the hell back to New York."

I closed my eyes, feeling the weight of her words settle over me like a suffocating blanket. I'd spent centuries working for power, wealth, freedom—everything I'd wanted when I made my deal with her. And yet, as I sat here in this small town, surrounded by people who actually cared about this place, I realized something I hadn't expected.

I didn't want to leave.

"Give me until after Halloween," I said finally, my voice low but resolute. "We're hosting a blood drive, and the shop's already getting more attention. If things don't improve after that, I'll do whatever needs to be done. But not before."

Delilah was silent for a long moment, and I could feel her calculating her next move, deciding whether or not to allow me this small reprieve.

"Fine," she said at last, her voice clipped. "But if you fail, I'll send someone else to clean up the mess. And there will be repercussions."

The line went dead, and I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding, slamming the phone down on the desk. The anger simmered beneath the surface, frustration curling in my chest like a tightening knot.

Soft? She thinks I'm going soft?

Maybe she was right. Maybe I was softening. I couldn't deny that I cared about Alice and Noah, that I didn't want to see them lose their livelihoods over something that wasn't their fault. And then there was Bethany...

Bethany. The mere thought of her was enough to send my mind spiraling into chaos. She was supposed to be just another employee, someone I could dismiss or ignore, but she wasn't. It was impossible for me to keep her at arm's length. And the more time I spent with her, the harder it was to ignore the fact that I didn't want to.

I ran a hand through my hair, frustration boiling over. Was this what it felt like to have a heart again? To feel things, to care about people, about places? I hadn't felt this way in centuries, and now it was all crashing down on me at once. It hurt. It hurt more than I was willing to admit.

I needed to clear my head. I needed to remember who I was—what I was. Something dead. Something cold. A monster. Not someone who got tangled up in the lives of small towns and humans.

Grabbing my coat, I stepped outside into the cold evening air. The wind bit at my skin as I walked down the street, the sharp chill helping to clear the fog in my mind. Twilight had settled over Sweetberry Hollow, casting long shadows across the cobblestone streets. The moon was high in the sky, half-obscured by racing clouds, and the wind sent leaves swirling through the air in erratic patterns, echoing the chaos of my thoughts.

I walked aimlessly, letting the rhythm of my steps drown out the cacophony in my head. The streets were alive with the sound of laughter and chatter, families walking hand in hand down the sidewalks, couples sipping hot cider and cocoa from steaming mugs. The storefronts were lined with decorations— jack-o'-lanterns, fake cobwebs, glowing ghosts—and the whole town buzzed with the energy of the holiday season.

I watched as an elderly couple strolled past, their hands clasped together as they smiled and whispered to each other, completely at ease in each other's presence. It was such a simple, human thing, but it tugged at something deep inside me.

What is happening to me?

I wasn't supposed to care about this. I wasn't supposed to care about any of it. But as I walked through the square, past the twinkling lights and the laughter of the people around me, I couldn't help but feel, the emotions tumbling over me like ocean waves. It wasn't just the town itself, though it was beautiful in its own way. It was the people. Alice, with her quiet strength and motherly warmth. Noah, with his unrelenting optimism and boundless creativity. Even Gary, with his quirky sense of humor and steadfast support.

And then there was Bethany.

Bethany was the reason everything was coming apart at the seams. She was the reason I couldn't focus, the reason I couldn't just do what Delilah wanted and walk away. Every time I thought about her—about her laugh, her determination, the way she made me feel like maybe I wasn't completely lost to the eons—I felt something stir inside me. Something I'd never allowed myself to feel.

The thought made my chest tighten, a painful reminder of everything I had tried to leave behind when I became what I was. I had built walls around myself, around my heart, and I had kept those walls up for centuries. I wasn't supposed to feel anything. I wasn't supposed to care.

But now, here I was, standing in the middle of nowhere, watching the nobodies live their lives, and all I could think about was how much I didn't want to leave. How much I wanted to stay. How much I wanted to belong.

I stopped in front of a small shop window, staring at where my reflection would have been in the glass. I touched my fingertips to it and felt my eyes growing wet.

This was what I had given up when I made my deal with Delilah. This was what I had traded for power, for immortality, for the chance to escape the pain of being human. And now, after all these years, I wanted it back.

I turned away from the window, my heart heavy as I started walking again. The laughter and warmth of the town seemed to press in around me, suffocating in its beauty. I didn't know how to deal with this. I didn't know how to deal with her.

But one thing was clear. I wasn't going to leave Sweetberry Hollow. At least, not yet. Not while I could still hold out, while there was still something here worth holding on to.

By the time I reached my apartment, the sky had darkened completely, and the cold had settled deep into my bones. I stood at the door for a moment, staring up at the moonlit sky, the wind howling around me. And then I walked inside and back to nothingness.