Chapter 42: The Hollow House
They didn't speak again until morning.
But Selene stayed.
No grand reconciliation. No whispered promises. Only that cold silence between them, stretched thin and sharp like the edge of a blade. Aria had curled up on the mattress with her back to the door, arms wrapped tight around herself, trying not to hope. But when the first pale light of dawn reached in, broken and watery, she saw her — Selene, still there. Standing by the window, shadowed and silent, her expression unreadable.
She hadn't left.
But she hadn't come closer either.
Aria didn't turn around right away. Her eyes were still red from crying, though the tears had dried sometime in the night. Her chest still ached from everything left unsaid. She swallowed the lump in her throat and stared at the crumbling wall ahead of her, willing herself not to speak first.
"We can't stay here," Selene finally said, her voice low and level, the sound slicing through the quiet like cold steel.
"I know," Aria said quietly.
Selene shifted her weight, boots scraping faintly against the floor. "They'll come back. They always do. And they'll be smarter next time."
Aria closed her eyes for a breath. She felt it too — the rising tension, the air growing thinner, the presence of something darker circling. The masked assassins had only been the beginning. Something worse was hunting them now.
"I know somewhere we can go," she said softly.
That got Selene's attention. She turned, her gaze sharp. "Where?"
Aria hesitated. Her fingers curled into the sleeves of her sweatshirt, nails digging into the threadbare fabric. She didn't want to remember. But she had no choice now.
"It's far. Off - grid. Abandoned. It used to be… my home."
Selene's eyes narrowed. "Your home?"
"I didn't remember it until recently. After you left… something came back. Memories, flashes. I don't know why. I just… I remembered the house. And it felt safe."
Selene didn't speak for a moment. Her green eyes searched Aria's face like she was looking for the lie behind the words, the catch. But there wasn't one.
"Then that's where we'll go," she said.
They packed what little they had — which wasn't much — and by midmorning, they were on foot, cutting through forgotten trails and side roads as the city crumbled in the distance behind them. Aria moved with purpose, the path unspooling in her memory as they walked. Trees arched overhead like broken cathedrals, wild branches clawing at the sky. It was quiet, too quiet, the kind of silence that made the world feel older than it should.
Selene stayed close behind her, barely speaking. But her presence — that inescapable chill, the faint scent of frost clinging to her leather jacket — never left Aria's skin. And sometimes, when Selene drifted a little too near, Aria would catch herself shivering, the hairs on her neck rising.
Not from fear.
From something far more dangerous.
The cold brushed her like a tease now, an invitation. Goosebumps chased down her arms. Her breath caught each time their shoulders nearly brushed. She hated how aware she was of Selene's body — how the space between them felt charged, like the static before a storm. More than once, Aria stumbled slightly, blaming a root or a stone, though really it was her own pulse that tripped her.
Selene noticed. Of course she did.
That smirk — half amused, half predatory — curled at her lips every time Aria flushed and turned away.
"You keep walking like that and I'm going to think you're trying to get my attention," Selene murmured once, her voice a lazy whisper just behind Aria's ear.
"I'm not," Aria shot back, cheeks burning.
"Mmm," Selene hummed. "Sure."
Aria sped up, but it didn't help. The cold followed, nipping at her heels, curling up her spine. And beneath it all, that slow, maddening ache started again — low and thick, centered between her thighs like a growing storm she didn't know how to name. She clenched her jaw, trying to ignore it.
Selene didn't.
She made it worse.
Every so often, her gloved fingers would brush Aria's sleeve just slightly — a gentle tap, a meaningless touch — but it set off fireworks under Aria's skin. Her legs felt too weak. Her throat too dry. She kept telling herself it was the cold, the fatigue, the stress.
But the heat between her legs told a different story.
By the time the trees grew taller and the sky began to dim, Aria knew they were close. The woods became denser, the air heavier with memory. An overgrown orchard revealed itself through the mist, twisted branches arching like skeletal fingers. And then the house appeared — hulking, weathered stone wrapped in ivy and silence.
The gate stood crooked, half - rotted. Aria paused in front of it, her chest clenching.
"This is it," she whispered.
Selene didn't say anything. Just stood beside her, waiting.
Aria pushed open the gate. It groaned in protest but obeyed.
Inside, the house was worse than she remembered — not broken, just abandoned. Dust layered the furniture. Cobwebs hung from corners like forgotten curtains. The air smelled like old wood and ghosted dreams. She stepped through the threshold slowly, like walking back into a life that no longer belonged to her.
Selene lingered near the doorway at first, quiet and still. But Aria could feel her watching. Always watching.
She drifted through the living room, fingertips brushing the edge of the old hearth. Her father used to build fires here, telling stories late into the night. Her eyes stung. In the kitchen, the table still stood — the one her mother used to sit at, humming while she braided Aria's hair. She touched the back of the chair gently, her breath catching.
Selene finally moved forward, her footsteps soft. "You okay?"
"I think so." Aria gave her a shaky smile. "It's strange. Like I'm standing inside a dream I forgot I had."
Selene's eyes lingered on her face. "You don't have to stay here if it hurts too much."
Aria shook her head. "I want to stay. I need to remember who I was."
Selene reached out, brushing her fingers along Aria's elbow. The touch was featherlight — but the cold it carried was instant, slicing through Aria like a sudden breath of winter.
Aria stiffened, not from discomfort but from the wave of heat that followed. Her skin burned where Selene touched her. Her thighs squeezed involuntarily, breath catching again. Her voice came out hoarse.
"I — I'm fine."
Selene's smirk deepened. "You're flushed."
"It's cold," Aria lied weakly.
"Is it?" Selene leaned in, breath ghosting her ear like a sin. "You look warm to me."
Aria turned her head away too quickly, cheeks flaming.
"You're terrible," she muttered.
"I'm delightful," Selene corrected with a grin, trailing her gloved fingers down Aria's wrist in a maddening tease. "And you're terrible at hiding things."
Aria whimpered quietly. She didn't mean to. But Selene's eyes darkened at the sound, and Aria's knees nearly gave out.
"Gods, you're so easy to unravel," Selene whispered, then turned away as if she hadn't just destroyed her.
"I'll make a fire," she added casually, walking toward the hearth. "Wouldn't want you melting in the cold."
Aria stared after her, breathless, hands curled into fists. She hated her. She wanted her. She didn't know where the line was anymore — only that Selene could dance across it whenever she pleased, and Aria would follow.
The fire crackled to life moments later, chasing shadows from the corners of the hollow house. Aria sat on the couch, knees drawn to her chest, watching Selene crouch by the flames, her silver hair catching the flicker like ice kissed by sunlight.
"You're dangerous," Aria whispered.
Selene glanced back, smirking. "So are you."
"But I don't know what I'm doing."
Selene stood, slow and deliberate. "You don't have to. I like watching you figure it out."
Aria's breath caught again. "You're the worst."
"I'm your worst," Selene corrected, sauntering closer until she was standing over her. "And your best."
Aria didn't argue.
She couldn't.
Because when Selene leaned down, her fingers brushing Aria's flushed cheek, all she could think was that no hollow house had ever burned this hot.
And Selene hadn't even kissed her yet.