His Better Has Been Waiting for Me

Our ceremony was ambushed underground. One exit. Corvin was the only one who could move fast enough to carry someone out.

In my last life, he chose me — and left Niamh behind. She didn't make it. He spent five years after that making sure I understood what that meant. Every day I woke up was a day she couldn't. When I finally ran out of ways to leave quietly, I chose a window that faced east and walked into it.

Now I'm back. Same corridor, same chaos, same choice.

This time, I said: "Take Niamh."

The way his shoulders came down — like something he'd been holding for years, finally put down — told me everything five years together never did.

He promised to come back. He was already moving when he said it.

I knew I had to get out myself. But the ferals who'd killed Niamh last time found my corridor before I made it to the stairs.

Because he chose me over Niamh in last life, she died alone in the dark. My fiancé spent five years making sure I understood exactly what I owed her for still being breathing. When I finally ran out of ways to leave quietly, I chose a window that faced east and walked into it.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back.

I recognized it before I was fully awake — the cold, the smell of old concrete, the particular dark of somewhere that never sees natural light. The emergency lights were still running in strips along the floor.

I looked down at my hands.

Unmarked.

Still human. I hadn't had that in five years.

The ceremony had been Corvin's idea — some Ashmore family matter, neutral ground, an opportunity to be seen together. He'd arranged everything, including Niamh, who was standing three steps behind him in a borrowed staff uniform when I arrived. Like she'd always been part of the guest list. Like I wouldn't notice.

I'd known about her for months. Both times around.

The attack came before anyone finished the first formality. Lights out. Ferals in the east section — the kind that came out of the abandoned territories and didn't bother with rules. And then it was just the three of us left in this part of the building, one exit, and Corvin already crossing the floor toward me.

He reached for my arm.

"Calla. We're leaving." Careful. Measured. "Now."

I stepped back.

"Take Niamh."

He went still.

I watched something move across his face — fast, unguarded, the kind of shift he'd spent years keeping out of his expression. His grip on my arm never closed. His shoulders came down, slow, the way they only did when he thought no one was paying attention.

I already knew how last time had gone. He'd chosen me — the safe choice, the defensible one — and left Niamh below. By the time anyone came back for her, there wasn't much left to find. He never described it. He didn't need to.

"She's not here because you are," he told me once, voice completely flat. "That's just the math. Learn to live with it."

Five years of that. Five years of a dependency I hadn't agreed to when I signed — the kind that quietly closed every exit before I reached it. The Vael accounts moved under his management, one layer at a time, until I needed his approval to access my own family's records. Until my father stopped calling me directly and started calling him instead. Three times I tried to leave. He was patient about bringing me back.

I held a candlestick to my own neck once, just to prove I was serious. He'd looked at it, looked at me, and told me the scar would be ugly.

"Calla—"

"Corvin." Just his name.

He looked at me for one more second. Then he turned to Niamh.

She took his hand without being asked.

"I'll come back for you," he said as they moved. "Stay where you are. I promise—"

The exit sealed.

I'll come back.

Last time, he actually did. Because last time, Niamh was the one he'd left behind. This time, she was right there with him.

I gave that promise about ten seconds.

What I had: Corvin had mentioned once, the way he mentioned things that had nothing to do with me, that ferals couldn't handle strong electromagnetic fields. It disrupted their senses, made them avoid certain spaces. He'd said it like trivia.

There had to be a power room in this building. All underground structures this size had one. Sub-level, east side, somewhere with enough equipment to make the air hum.

I started moving.

The floor lights gave just enough to navigate by. Red-tinted. The corridor split ahead. I went right, toward the service section.

I'd made it maybe twenty meters when I heard it.

Low. Close. Something in the corridor ahead that wasn't moving away.

I stopped.

Last time, the ferals had found Niamh in under an hour.

One of them stepped out of the dark at the far end of the hall.