“Do you believe in Santa Claus?”

Laughing, I rolled onto my belly and turned my head on the pillow to see Bast’s face. “What kind of question is that?”

“I'm trying to get to know you better,” he whispered, his fingers dancing over my bare back. “What you believe in. What you love. What you dream of.”

“Santa doesn't exist,” I said, reaching over to caress Bast’s jaw.

He closed his eyes and sighed, a content smile tugging at his lips. “Depends on who you ask.”

“So, you believe in behaving well and being rewarded?”

“Rewarded.” Bast smirked, opening his eyes. “And no. I just think we need to believe in something to deal with how fucking crazy the world is. Everyone needs a bit of magic. Okay. What about marriage?”

“Does marriage equal magic?”

“Smartass.” Bast moved his palm to my bum and smoothed it over the curves. “I'm just wondering.”

I traced the shape of his lips with my index. “I don't know. I believe in finding someone you love enough to want to spend your life with. Someone who's your lover and your best friend. You?”

Bast grabbed my hand, kissed it, and pressed it to his chest. “Same. My parents had their ups and downs, but you'd have to see them laughing at some weird shit together like two kids. I want that.”

“Laughter?”

He knitted his fingers through mine. “Complicity. Laughter. Love.”

I edged closer to hug him and feel the heat of his skin. “Magic.”

♡♡♡

There’s no blood on my hands anymore, but I still feel it coating my fingers. It was like reliving the day Mom died, except this time, they told me I did well by pressing on Bast’s wound until the ambulance got to us.

He’s been in surgery for an hour, and each time a doctor or a nurse passes by the waiting area, my heart forgets how to beat.

He took the bullet for me. He saved me. I’d give anything to be in the OR instead of him because he doesn’t deserve this, and the pain on his parents’ faces is my fault.

After another glance at Nora’s tear-soaked cheeks, I slide off the chair and go to the coffee machine. My throat wouldn’t open enough to drink, but I need distance from Bast’s mom and dad. More like, I feel they’d rather not look at me — the one their son loves enough to have risked his life for.

I sit on the floor beside the steel box and wrap my arms around my knees. It hides me from view, but I can see everyone entering. If he dies, I’ll know just from looking at the surgeon’s face.

If he dies, I’ll move to Norway. Start from scratch.

If the person I love the most in this world dies….

I bite my fist. Tears fill my eyes, and I desperately try to gulp them down so they wouldn’t spill.

“Tara.”

Bast’s dad stands in front of me, his tall figure casting a shadow over my body. I press my back to the wall and drop my hand from my mouth.

“Why are you sitting here?” he asks.

Words dangle from the tip of my tongue but refuse to fall off. Sighing, Mr. Hutches lowers himself onto the floor by my side, wincing as he sits.

“Hard to believe I was athletic back in my college days, huh?” He smirks and turns his tired eyes on me.

They’re the same color as Sebastian’s. I stare for too long, and Bast’s dad pats the pockets of his jacket.

When he pulls out a pack of cigarettes, I remember Bast complaining about his father’s bad habit. I’m sure he’d tell his dad off even being wounded as he is.

Mr. Hutches gestures at something on my left. “Pass me the trash, please. I’d stand, but my knees don’t think it’s a good idea.”

I reach over and slide the small bin toward him.

His hand hovers over it. “Goodbye, and see you never,” he says, dumping the pack into the bin with a dramatic sigh.

I smile despite myself. “Are you for real? Bast…”

“Will be happy. I know.” Mr. Hutches crosses his arms and extends his legs. “It’s about time I remembered I’m not getting any younger, don’t you think?”

“You’re not old,” I say.

He pats my knee. “Thank you. So, why are you here alone?”

My hand goes to my neck. I rub Bast’s chain between my thumb and index. He needs all the luck in the world, but he wouldn’t be able to wear it in surgery.

“I feel so guilty,” I whisper. “He might…” Moisture appears behind my eyelids once more, and I blink it away. “He might die because of me.”

Bast’s dad shakes his head. “That’s where you’re wrong. He started living thanks to you.”

A sob breaks through, and I’m not quick enough to hide it. Mr. Hutches circles my shoulders with his arm. “Don’t. I can’t deal with two crying women. Let’s trust the surgeons, okay?”

I pull paper napkins out of my pocket and wipe my eyes and cheeks dry. “Yeah. I’m trying. He just doesn’t deserve it. If he hadn’t tried to save me—“

“Three innocent young women would have died. You were dealing with someone guilty of premeditated murders, Tara. This isn’t a would she, wouldn’t she situation. Because she would. Her entire existence revolved around some twisted revenge. And if anyone failed my son…” Mr. Hutches’s voice breaks on the last word. “It’s me. Us, the police. Because she fooled us and made us look the wrong way. And I don’t want to think what would've happened if Connor hadn’t called my son.”

“What did he say?”

Bast’s dad exhales noisily. “That Sadie mentioned running into the same woman in unexpected places a few times. My colleagues were about to search Blanche’s house again when she used Sadie’s phone. Then Bast called me, and we sent people to my father’s house. I wish I’d been smarter. She knew my car and followed you there.”

“She also said Maverick was in the basement. Was he okay?”

“As okay as a victim of systematic abuse can be. The doctors are taking care of him in this hospital.”

I straighten, ungluing my back from the wall. “He’s here?”

“That’s right.”

“And by systematic abuse, you mean…”

Mr. Hutches gives me a long look as if he’s trying to delay saying the words.

“I need to know,” I whisper. “I can handle it. We’ve been friends all my life.”

“He hasn’t spoken yet, and he’s traumatized. From my colleagues’ preliminary report, I know he’d been systematically drugged and subjected to physical violence.”

My insides twist painfully. “And I had no clue.”

“None of us did.” Sadness coats each word Bast’s dad says. “And I’m afraid to learn what else we don’t know. It’ll all become clear once Maverick speaks.”

I toy with the pack of tissues. “He’ll need professional help after, right?”

“In a specialized facility. That’s the usual procedure. We’ll know more once the doctors assess his condition. Now, let’s go with Nora. She must’ve returned from the bathroom.”

I scramble to my feet, and so does Bast’s dad. He gives me a wink as we stroll to the chairs where Nora sits.

She stands, smiles at me, and opens her arms, and I stumble into her hug, falling victim to exhaustion, fear for Bast, and relief from knowing his mom and dad don’t blame me.

The three of us take our seats. I answer Kenny’s, Drew’s, and Brian’s texts. Kenny is on his way to the hospital, and so are the guys. Leah messages me too, and I tell her not to come here because she needs to worry about her baby.

When the surgeon steps into the room hours later, none of us expects it. Nora springs to her feet while nerves keep me glued to the hard chair.

“Is my son…” she chokes.

“We repaired the splenic laceration and his diaphragm injury,” he says. “All in all, it was a success, but his blood loss was severe, and he suffered from heart contusion. We’ll keep monitoring him in the ICU to see how he evolves. He’s stable for now, but it might change fast.”

“Can we see him?” Mr. Hutches asks.

The doctor nods. “Sure. Come with me.”

We follow him to the ICU, and I let Bast’s mom and dad go in first and pace the length of the room until they join me fifteen minutes later.

“Go be with him,” Nora says, rubbing my back. “It’ll do him good.”

As soon as I enter, my eyes fall on Bast’s face. He looks less pale, but worry grips my heart at the sight of so many monitors he’s connected to.

I sit on a chair by his side and take his hand.

“You’d know what all these things are for better than me,” I whisper, caressing each finger with my thumb. “But you know what? I don’t care as long as they keep you alive. You need to live, Basti. For you and me. Because I don’t believe in saying I love you once you lose someone. I want to say it to you every day, even when you annoy me with your grumpiness. We need it so bad.” I bring his hand to my mouth and press my lips to it. “We need some fucking magic.”

***

I only left Bast’s side because they needed to do something and asked me to return later.

The waiting area is packed. Drew and Brian both give me a tight hug as soon as they see me, and Kenny is the next to squeeze the air out of me.

“I can’t believe what that psycho did,” he whispers. “Poor Seb. And you. How are you holding on?”

“I’m scared,” I say into his neck. “So scared to lose him.”

“You’re my hero, Atla,” Kenny says. “Nora told me you basically kept him alive while you were waiting for the doctors.”

“I wouldn’t forgive myself if I did nothing. I couldn’t do anything when Mom…”

“Don’t.” Kenny kisses my forehead. “It’s not the same. He’s going to pull through, you’ll see. Want to see doctor Jennings with me later? I called him on my way here.”

“Yeah.” I rub my eyes with the heel of my palm. “Sure. But I need to talk to Mav first. Text me if they say anything about Bast, okay? And wait for Cara here. I’ll try not to take long.”

Kenny lets go of me, and I follow the directions Bast’s dad gave me to locate Maverick’s room.

A police officer is talking to a nurse in the hallway. They stop chatting as I draw near. “Hello. I’m Tara Van Doren,” I say like Mr. Hutches told me to. “Detective Hutches said I could see Maverick.”

“He’s been asking about you,” the nurse says.

After a nod from the officer, she accompanies me into the room.

Mav is sitting on the bed, propped against a pillow. An IV is attached to his arm, but what catches my attention are the red marks covering the skin of his wrists.

I try to clear my throat but manage only a weird, choking sound. “Mav.”

“You’re okay.” He breathes out, resting his gaze on me. “Tell me she’s dead. They said she is, but I need you to say it. You’d never lie to me.”

I clasp my hands in front of me to stop them from shaking. “She is. She’s gone. And I can’t believe…all these years.”

Mav pats his bed. “Come sit here.”

As I climb it, Mav shifts his legs so I’d have more space.

“How is Sebastian?” he asks.

“Stable for now, but—”

“I'm so glad he was there. I tried to escape, but…” Mav lifts his arms slightly. “She chained me to the pipes. Drugs alone weren't enough this time.”

“I can't imagine—”

“Tara.” He touches my leg. “She said she’d kill you when I was nine, and my father left. He left because she was a psycho. I begged him to take me with him, but he was afraid of her. Or maybe he thought I was like that, too.

“Anyway,” Mav looks away, toward the window, “she said she’d kill you if I spoke because my father loved your mother. Your mom was so kind it was hard not to love her. I think she suspected my mother was mistreating me. When your mom died, I feared my mother did something to her.”

“You should've told me, Mav. We would've gone to the police.”

“Nobody would believe me.”

I swallow thickly. “That's not true.”

“She would've found us like she found the girl I helped. I thought I was careful, but she found out.”

“But you can't drive.”

“She always won.” Mav swivels his head and cocks it. “But I managed to fool her. Tom taught me. On the days she didn't drug me, I got out of the house, and he gave me lessons.”

I gape. “My gardener?”

“He was trimming the hedges once, and I was hanging out by the fence. He started talking to me, and I answered because she wasn't home, and I was fed up with pretending. We became friendly. He knew I took Cara’s car, but he didn't see the girl.”

That's why Cara thought Tom looked guilty. “You don't know the girl’s name?” I ask. “How did you even find her?”

Mav runs a hand over his eyes. “One night, I saw a van pull over, and they led five girls into the old guest cabin. One of the girls escaped and hid in my garden. I think she didn’t speak our language, but she seemed to understand me. I borrowed Cara’s car in the morning, and she drove to the woods in Ashwick, far enough from my mother. We found an abandoned hut. She stayed there, and I drove back. I was going to ask Tom for some money and help her, but my mother… After she killed her, she said she’d do the same with anyone who wanted to make me leave her.”

“You should’ve told Tom,” I whisper. “Or Cara. They’d help you.”

Maverick groans. “You don’t understand. I couldn’t risk it. As long as I kept quiet, you’d be safe.”

“But you told me to go away. Why?”

Maverick runs his fingers over the red welts on his right wrist. “She said you’d be dead once you turned twenty-one. She killed Sadie that evening. We only ran into her once, and Sadie said my name. Although I pretended I didn’t know her, my mother didn’t buy it. I thought if you were far from here, you’d be safe. I was going to escape, but after that day, she locked me in the basement.”

“The police didn’t see you?”

Mav swings his head in a no. “I was drugged most of the time. She asked them to look for me. They didn’t think my own mother would keep me there. That’s why I told you nobody would believe me. She fooled everyone.”

“I hate that you lived this way for so long. And for what?”

A single tear rolls down his cheek. “For my only friend. My only family. You always came back. Even when it hurt to visit that house after you lost your mom. You cared, and nobody else ever did.”

His words hurt, reminding me of the many signs I missed — his long-sleeved shirts and the vacant look in his eyes, and the only time he spoke in full sentences as we went to look at the butterflies. I should’ve dug deeper, but I was a kid when it started. A kid who assumed all mothers wanted the best for their children.

“You need to tell the police what you told me,” I say, pushing the sad thoughts aside to discuss them with doctor Jennings later. “Bast’s dad said the doctors will treat you. You need to let them help you, Mav. Because sometimes, people do care.”

“Now that she’s gone, I will. Do you think I’ll be okay one day?”

I take Mav’s hand in both of mine like he did when I lost my mom.

“You will. Promise.”

The future has never looked more uncertain to me. But if there’s a time to believe in something, it’s now.

One chapter to go. I promised you wouldn't know everything until the last one, and I'm keeping my word.

There's someone else Tara needs to talk to, right? And we need to know what happened to Bast.

If you have questions, I'll gladly answer all of them.

Hope this one made you cry 🥺❤️