The choice.

There was screaming.

Not mine.

His.

The sound ripped through the silence like a jagged knife. It wasn't human—it was pure, primal rage, dipped in sorrow and desperation. My body was numb, but my soul… it trembled. I felt my consciousness clawing its way back from the edge of the abyss.

My eyes fluttered open.

And then—I saw him.

A boy.

He burst through the doors of the old barn-like place where I was kept. I could barely lift my head, barely breathe. My skin was torn, bruised, soaked in dried blood. My vision blurred—but I knew.

That was him.

Not the Liam I had just met days ago. This was him from before—from that life, that time. The real Liam. Or whatever he used to be. His presence alone seemed to warp the air around him. His coat billowed though there was no wind. His dark, wild eyes were full of fury and something else—something ancient.

He looked at me like his entire world had just crumbled.

"Emma…?" he whispered, and it sounded like someone breaking. He dropped to his knees beside me.

I whimpered, trying to speak. My mouth opened but no sound came out.

"Oh my god," he breathed. "What have they done to you?"

He touched my face like it would shatter beneath his fingers. His hands hovered over my wounds, like he didn't know where to start—like the horror of seeing me this way had broken him beyond repair.

Then his expression hardened.

And I swear to God, the temperature in the room changed.

He stood.

His back to me.

His fists clenched.

The captors—those monsters who had done this to me—were standing nearby, laughing, oblivious to the storm they'd just invited in.

And then… he raised his hand.

Just once.

That's all it took.

Flames.

No warning. No mercy. Just roaring fire.

Screams.

One by one, they were reduced to ash and bone. The heat licked the walls. The bodies were thrown like ragdolls into the lake outside the shack, disintegrating before they hit the water.

All of them.

Except one.

The boy with hazel eyes. Peter. Or the version of him from that time.

Liam looked at him.

And let him live.

I didn't understand then—but now, I knew.

He knew Peter loved me. He knew he would never hurt me. And Liam… let him go.

But me?

He came back for me.

He wrapped his arms around my shattered body. I felt his chest heaving, his breath against my temple. His tears mixing with the blood on my skin.

He held me.

Pressed both hands to my body, desperately trying to stop the bleeding.

"Don't leave me," he kept whispering, over and over. "Please, Emma. Stay. I'll save you. I'll give everything—take everything. Just stay. Don't leave me again."

And when I started slipping, I heard a new voice—familiar.

Mrs. Grace.

Not old. Not like now. She was young. Timeless. Her hair dark, her eyes the same deep ocean blue. She came running, placing her hands above me. Her voice sang strange syllables I couldn't recognize—magic, maybe. Something lost to this world.

She tried.

He held my hand the whole time, never letting go.

But it wasn't enough.

I died.

In his arms.

His scream was the last thing I heard.

And just before everything turned to black… I realized I had loved him. Just as I had loved Peter.

Two hearts.

Two boys.

One who would save me even if it meant leaving me when I turned into something wrong.

One who would destroy heaven, hell, and everything in between—if I asked him to.

Peter was good.

Liam was chaos.

And me?

I was split right down the middle.

---

I woke up.

The hospital room was sterile and too bright. The scent of antiseptic filled the air. My throat was dry, like I'd swallowed sand. Machines beeped beside me. My fingers twitched.

Someone gasped.

Then I heard my name.

"Emma…"

Peter.

He was sitting beside me, his face pale, his eyes glassy. His voice cracked like he hadn't slept for days. His hand reached out slowly, like he was afraid to touch me.

On the other side—Liam.

Leaning against the wall, arms crossed, eyes unreadable but locked on mine. Protective. Calm. Dangerous.

He didn't speak. Just watched. Like he was making sure I was really awake. Really breathing.

And I was.

But nothing would ever be the same.

Because I remembered everything.

Liam stood at the edge of the hospital room, eyes resting softly on me as the monitor beeped steadily beside my bed. That calm smile—half heartbreak, half peace—told me everything.

He knew.

He knew I remembered.

And before I could say anything, he turned to leave, quietly, like he was slipping out of my life just as gently as he entered it.

But my heart screamed.

"Liam!" I cried out, my voice desperate.

He paused at the door.

I threw the blanket off me, yanked the IV from my arm, ignoring the sting, and ran toward him. "Don't leave," I said breathlessly. "Please, don't."

Peter stood frozen on the other side of the room. "Emma…?" he whispered.

But I didn't even turn to look at him.

I grabbed Liam's wrist. "I remember now. Everything. The fire. The lake. The blood. You." My voice broke. "You saved me."

Liam turned, gently holding my wrist in return. "And you remember… how you died in my arms."

Tears spilled down my face. "Why did you love me? After everything… even when I couldn't be saved—why didn't you let me go?"

He touched my cheek, eyes dark and full of storm. "Because I don't love you like a human, Emma. I don't fall in love for a day, a week, or even a lifetime. When I love…" He exhaled, voice shaking. "It stays in my bones. You were chaos and light and ruin, and I loved every broken part of you."

My breath hitched. I leaned closer, forehead brushing against his chest. "Even when I lost control? When I… hurt people?"

Liam's arms wrapped around me carefully. "You were a weapon someone else created. But your soul—your soul was still good. And it always led you back to him." He tilted his head toward Peter.

That's when I looked back at Peter. His eyes were wide, stunned, and full of something sharp. "You… You remember a life before this?" he asked, his voice barely audible.

"I do," I whispered. "And you were there too. But Liam…" I turned back to him. "He was the one who held me while I died."

Peter took a step forward, fists clenched. "And now you're in his arms?"

Liam looked over my head. "And where were you when she collapsed outside? When she begged you not to hate her?"

Peter's jaw tensed. "I thought she—" He shook his head. "Amanda said she was with some guy in a car, kissing him. I didn't know what to believe. I got jealous, okay?"

"You abandoned her," Liam said, voice cold. "And I found her. Just like I always do."

Peter stepped closer. "Who even are you?"

Liam smiled bitterly. "The one who didn't walk away."

I looked between them, my chest heavy. "Don't do this. Please."

Liam stepped back slightly, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. "You love him, I know. That hasn't changed. But I know you love me too… even if you're afraid to admit it."

Peter stared at me. "Emma… do you?"

I hesitated. The silence cracked like ice.

"I don't know," I admitted. "I don't know how to love like this. I don't know how to choose."

Liam leaned down and kissed my forehead softly. "You don't have to choose right now. I'll make it easier for you."

He started to turn.

"No," I said, grabbing his arm. "Don't leave me again."

He smiled gently, the way someone does when they've already decided. "I'll always keep an eye on you," he said. Then he turned to Peter. "Don't mess this up again. Or I won't be so polite next time."

Peter didn't respond. His mouth was tight. Conflicted. Guilty.

Liam walked out the door.

And I collapsed to the ground, sobbing.

Peter knelt beside me, quietly. "I didn't know," he said. "Emma… I didn't know you were hurting so much."

I looked at him through blurry eyes. "Why didn't you believe me? Why did you believe Amanda?"

He opened his mouth but had no answer.

"I needed you," I whispered. "And you weren't there."

"I'm here now," he said gently. "But maybe… I was too late."