Chapter 243 This Is Real Reese “I’ll go get my things.” Elizabeth said it like the world wasn’t collapsing in on itself. Like Roman hadn’t just been reduced to a body breathing by machines. Like the word coma hadn’t detonated something ugly and irreversible inside my chest. She said it like she didn't realize that things had gotten dangerous. She turned toward the hallway, already moving, already planning. Panic clung to her movements—too fast, too sharp—but underneath it was resolve. The kind that got people killed. My mind lagged behind reality. Roman was unconscious. Roman was at the manor. Those two facts refused to exist together in my head. They collided, over and over, like blunt objects smashing into bone. I stood there, staring at nothing, my vision blurring at the edges as if my brain was trying to protect me by shutting the hell down.How did it happen so fast? One minute we were stable—barely, but still breathing—and the next everything was chaos. No warning. No preparation. Just violence, blood, and consequences stacked on consequences. Everything was ruined now. Every plan we’d made. Every contingency. Scrapped. Useless. We were reacting now, not controlling anything anymore. And in our world, reaction was actually how people died. It was the first step to the grave. “Reese!” Elizabeth stamped her foot, the sound sharp against the floor. Childish. Out of place. It grated against my skull. “What are you doing just standing there? There’s no time!” I heard Savannah’s voice in my head instead. Not the words she’d said but the meaning behind them. You know what this means. Yeah. I knew exactly what it meant. I also knew why Elizabeth couldn’t come anywhere near Blackwood Manor. Why Savannah hadn’t even hesitated before making that call. Why we had arrived at the same conclusion without needing to say it out loud. Elizabeth was a liability. A well-meaning, soft-hearted, stubborn liability with a talent for walking straight into danger blindly because she lived for the thrill of adventure. This wasn't an adventure. This wasn't a fun trip. This was real life. And if I had to be mean to drum it into her ears, then that's what I'll be. “No need,” I said flatly. “You’re not going anywhere.” She stopped mid-step. The pause was slow. When she turned around, her brows were drawn together in confusion that rapidly sharpened into irritation. “What are you saying?” She shook her head, already dismissing me, and tried to walk past. “Now’s not the time for games, Reese.” I moved into her path. “You don’t see me playing games, do you?” I said. My voice was dead, stripped of warmth. “You’re going back home. I'm dead serious, Elizabeth.” Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. “You’re not putting your life at risk just because you want to feel useful. Or important. Or because you’re chasing some rush you don’t even understand,” I continued. “Not happening.” She stared at me, stunned.“If you’re that desperate for excitement,” I added, cruelty slipping in sharply, “go visit a zoo. Or a haunted house. Something safe. Anything that doesn’t involve bullets and body bags. This isn’t a thrill ride, Elizabeth. Roman is in a coma.” Her jaw tightened. “This isn’t about you, Elizabeth.” For a long second, she just looked at me. Then her expression shifted. Not fear. Not confusion. It was understanding. And with it came anger. “Is this because of yesterday?” she asked quietly. I felt something twist in my gut. “Is it because I didn’t cling to you afterward?” she continued. “Is it because I had the maturity to treat what happened between us like what it was?” Her voice rose, sharp and accusing. “Is that what this is? Are you trying to punish me?” A part of me—small, dark, curious—wanted to hear the rest. So I stepped closer, crowding her space. Not touching her. But just close enough to remind her I could. “What is it?” I said low. “Say it.” She stepped back instinctively. “Reese, stop it. We need to go—”“Answer me.” The word tore out of my chest, raw and loud. It echoed off the walls. She didn’t jump. She glared. “It was sex,” she snapped. “Just sex. Nothing else. Why do you insist on making it something bigger? People do it all the time and never speak to each other again. They don’t spiral. They don’t act like the world owes them something.” Her eyes burned. “So why is this different? I’m not asking for more. I’m not asking you to feel anything. I’m being sensible. And because of that, suddenly I’m the problem?” I dragged in a breath through my nose, slow and controlled. This conversation was poison. “Change of plans, princess,” I said coldly. “You’re going home. End of discussion.” I turned away before she could see what that conversation had done to me. Before she could see the crack. I headed to my room and grabbed my jacket from the bed, my wallet from the dresser, my phone from the nightstand. Muscle memory. Preparation. Escape. Her footsteps followed. “This is unacceptable,” she said, trailing me. “Roman was shot. I need to see him.” I didn’t slow. “For what?” I shot back. “He’s my brother. Not yours. He's Savannah’s fiancé. Not yours.” She followed me back into the living room. “He’s my brother-in-law!” she screamed. “And I care about him. He cares about me too. I have a right to see him.” I stopped. Slowly, I turned. “Go home, Elizabeth.” My voice was quiet now. Worse than shouting. “You don’t belong there. This isn’t a movie. This is real. People are dying.” I stepped closer. “Go back to your horror films and your Cheerios. Go back to your parents. Forget you ever brushed against all this and move on with your life.” Her face crumpled. Her eyes glistened. “There is no place for you in Blackwood Manor.” She inhaled sharply, then swiped angrily at her face. “I’m calling Savannah.” She pulled out her phone, hands shaking. “She knows Roman would want me there.” I folded my arms and leaned against the wall, watching. “I'll gladly say I told you so.” I muttered under my breath. She dialed and put it on speaker. Savannah picked up immediately. “Sav—” She began. But Savannah cut her off. “Lizzie,” Savannah said, already tired, “I’m guessing Aunt Carol told you she’s on her way—” “What?” Elizabeth gasped. “You called my mom?” I closed my eyes. Savannah exhaled deeply, the sound carrying the weight of everything she's been going through. “I’m sorry, Lizzie. But this is for the best. I don’t want you anywhere near this. I won’t risk you.” Then she paused. “Chloe’s gone. And so is Julius.” Elizabeth froze. She didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Her phone slipped slightly in her grip. Then one tear fell. Then another. And another. “What… what do you mean gone?” she whispered. “What happened? How can Chloe be—” Her hand clutched at her chest. “Oh God,” she sobbed. “This can’t be happening.”Savannah’s voice broke. “I’m sorry, Lizzie. But I can’t let you come. Please understand.” Elizabeth swallowed hard. “Please,” she begged. “Just let me see Roman. Once. Then I’ll leave. I swear.” I turned away. Savannah sniffed. “I’m sorry. I don't want you anywhere near this place.” Elizabeth nodded slowly. When she looked up again, her face was blank. Composed. Terrifyingly calm. “You know I’ll never forgive you for this,” she said evenly. “Either of you.” There was a long pause. Then Savannah spoke. “I know,” Savannah replied, exhausted. Elizabeth hung up. Then she called her mother next. “Hi, Mum,” she said calmly. “Yes. I spoke with Savannah. I heard. I’ll get my things ready.” She ended the call and walked away. Minutes later, she returned with her bags. I stuffed my hands down my pockets and cleared my throat. “I’ll be leaving now, Elizabeth.” “It’s Lizzie,” she snapped. “Stop calling me Elizabeth. You’re not my father.” I grimaced. “Wouldn’t want to be. That’d be disturbing.” She glared. I nodded once. “Goodbye, Elizabeth.” I turned to leave. “If we ever meet again,” she said behind me, “don’t act like you know me.” I didn’t turn back. “I’ll keep that in mind. Till we meet again, Elizabeth.” And I walked away.