Afterlight (Fanfiction) ✓

chapter nineteen

Jay

THE crack of dawn painted the horizon in muted shades of blue and gold. My eyelids felt like sandbags, heavy from the lack of sleep. All night, Chloe had struggled beside me, tossing and turning, murmuring incoherent words under her breath. Beads of sweat glistened on her forehead, catching the faint moonlight. I'd wrapped my arm around her, drawing her closer, and with a soft sigh, her restless movements stilled. Her body relaxed against mine, and for a moment, the chaos of the last few days felt distant.

In my arms, she looked ethereal. Her wavy, silk-like hair spread across my chest in a halo, her jasmine scent enveloping me in a way that made it hard to think about anything else. Her lips, parted in sleep, were soft and full, inviting a kind of reverence I wasn't used to feeling. I couldn't look away.

I checked my phone, the faint glow breaking the stillness. 5:03 AM. The air was crisp, dew clinging to the grass like frost. Birds were beginning to chirp, their songs cutting through the silence. The sun wasn't up yet, but it wouldn't be long. We needed to leave before morning gave us away.

I dipped my head down to her ear, my voice a low murmur. "Wake up, princess."

She stirred, a sleepy murmur escaping her lips. Her face turned toward me, half-hidden by her wild, dark hair, her cheeks flushed a soft pink. She looked like she belonged to a world much kinder than this one.

"Justin?" Her voice was groggy, her face tilting up as she rubbed at her eyes, still caught somewhere between sleep and waking.

"It's time for us to go home," I said, rising to my feet and offering her my hand.

"Home?" She blinked up at me, those greyish-blue eyes fully opening now, like windows to a stormy sky. It was impossible not to get lost in them, impossible not to let her pull me into whatever world she lived in.

"Yes, home."

She pushed herself upright, swaying slightly as she steadied herself. One hand went to her stomach, the other to her head, as if the weight of everything she'd been through was crashing down on her all at once. She looked so small, so fragile. My chest tightened at the sight of her. I wanted nothing more than to march back to Dean, put a gun to his head, and end every reason she'd had to suffer.

"You sounded like you were having nightmares last night," I said, watching her carefully. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she murmured, but her voice lacked conviction. She stared at the ground, her hands trembling at her sides. Her usual spark was dimmer today, her shoulders weighed down by everything that had happened.

I noticed, too, how loose her clothes had become, like she'd been shrinking under the weight of it all. My fists clenched at the thought of how much she'd endured, how much it had cost her.

But then she looked up at me, a small smile spreading across her lips, and for a moment, the fire returned to her eyes. It was faint, but it was there.

"Let's leave," she said, her voice stronger now.

I nodded, unable to help the smile tugging at my own lips. That was Chloe—resilient, even when everything seemed impossible. "Let's go."

*   *   *

The ride home on my motorcycle felt like a fever dream I couldn't quite shake. The adrenaline that had kept me sharp all night was fading, leaving exhaustion to take its place. Each mile blurred into the next, the hum of the engine and the cool rush of wind the only things keeping me awake. By the time we reached my place, I felt like a shell of myself, the weight of the night bearing down harder than ever.

I pulled the key from the ignition and left the bike out front, just in case we needed to leave quickly. Chloe climbed off the back, stifling a yawn as she adjusted her footing on the sidewalk. Her eyes were heavy with fatigue, her body swaying slightly as she waited for me to join her.

"You should rest," I said, my voice low as I slid the keys into the pocket of my leather jacket. "I'll take care of the rest."

She nodded, too tired to argue, and I placed a steadying hand on the small of her back, guiding her toward the house. She moved quietly beside me, patient and trusting, even as I unlocked the door.

When the door swung open, my stomach dropped.

The house was a disaster. Chairs were toppled over, cushions ripped to shreds, broken glass glittering like frost on the floor. Everything from the countertops lay scattered or smashed, and my couch, my damn couch, was flipped upside down. The chaos was jarring, but it was the sight of Chloe's clothes shredded on the floor that sent a cold, dark fury coursing through me.

I clenched my fists so tightly my knuckles ached, the familiar heat of anger rising in my chest. Someone had been here. Someone had touched what was mine.

Chloe's gasp snapped me back. "Oh my..." she whispered, her voice trembling.

"I'll make them pay," I growled, my voice sharp enough to cut glass.

Her wide, worried eyes brought me back to reality. I forced the rage down and pulled her into my arms, holding her tightly. Her small frame trembled against mine, and I knew I had to calm her.

I tried to soften the moment, even as my voice came out rough. "Looks like we have to clean the house again," I said, attempting a joke. "Sorry about that."

Chloe let out a small, shaky laugh. "Well, at least I know where everything goes," she said, her smile faint but real.

We got to work. She took on the smaller tasks—picking up shredded clothes and discarded trash—while I hauled the heavier, broken furniture outside. Her determination to help, even in her exhaustion, was almost endearing.

At one point, as I carried a splintered chair outside, Chloe surprised me. She stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to mine. For a moment, the chaos around us disappeared. Her kiss was soft, warm, and grounding. I smiled against her mouth, letting her melt the tension in my shoulders.

When we broke apart, I leaned my forehead against hers, brushing my lips against the tip of her nose. She giggled softly, a sound that reminded me there was still good in all this madness.

"Thank you," I murmured, though I wasn't sure if she'd heard me.

We were heading back inside when a loud thump startled both of us. Chloe froze, her eyes darting to the source of the noise. "I'm so sorry." she squealed, turning toward the commotion.

"No, it's fine!" came a familiar voice. "I should've watched where I was going."

Standing in front of Chloe was Violet Noir, Nick's younger sister. She smiled warmly, placing a hand on Chloe's shoulder. Violet had always been harmless—sweet and unassuming—but in that moment, I couldn't be sure. My instincts flared, warning me to stay cautious.

I stepped between them, blocking Chloe with my body.

"Hi, Jay," Violet said, her voice light and friendly.

My eyes stayed on her, studying her every move. Chloe, silent behind me, peeked around my shoulder, her curiosity outweighing her unease. When Violet didn't press further, I eased back, turning to Chloe. She didn't question my reaction, but as we walked away, I noticed her glancing over her shoulder.

I followed her gaze and found Violet watching us, her expression warm and unthreatening, like she hadn't just caught us in the middle of a wreckage. She smiled softly at Chloe, one of those genuine, innocent smiles that reminded me why she was considered the kindest girl in town.