Chapter 24 – Echoes of Her
Sam's POV
It started with a dream.
I woke up drenched in sweat, the taste of her name on my tongue. My sister. Her voice, her laughter, her sobs—they clung to me like smoke I couldn’t wash away.
And then the dream didn’t feel like a dream anymore. It felt like memory.
We were sitting in her room. I could smell the faint lavender from the candle she always burned at night. She was on the floor, legs crossed, hair falling like a curtain around her face.
“You’re late,” she said, voice flat.
“I was with Mom,” I replied, tossing my bag onto her bed. “She made me help with dinner.”
She didn’t look up. Her fingers toyed with the edge of her hoodie sleeve, tugging, tugging. “You’re always late these days.”
Something in her tone made me pause. I sank onto the carpet beside her. “What’s going on?”
Her jaw tightened. “Nothing.”
I frowned. “That’s a lie.”
She finally lifted her eyes to me, and the sight stole my breath. Shadows lurked there, bruised and broken, the kind no makeup could cover.
“Sis,” I whispered, my throat aching. “Tell me.”
She shook her head. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
She laughed, sharp and bitter. “You think you know everything, Sam. But you don’t. You don’t know how ugly people can be.”
My chest squeezed. “Who?”
She looked away, staring at the wall. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter!” My voice cracked. “Who hurt you?”
Her silence was louder than any answer.
Another flash. Another memory.
This time, it was the kitchen. She was leaning against the counter, staring at her untouched plate of food.
“You’re not eating again,” I said gently.
“Not hungry.”
“You’ve said that every night this week.”
She sighed, rubbing her temples. “Can you just drop it?”
“No, I can’t.” I slammed my fork down, the sound too loud. “You’re scaring me.”
She flinched, shoulders hunching. “I don’t mean to.”
“Then tell me what’s happening.”
Her lips parted, then closed. She whispered so low I almost didn’t hear: “They won’t let me go.”
I froze. “Who won’t?”
She shook her head violently, tears springing to her eyes. “If I tell you, they’ll hurt you too.”
“Sis…”
Her hand shot out, gripping mine. Her fingers were ice. “Promise me you’ll stay out of it. Promise me.”
“I can’t—”
“Promise!” Her voice broke.
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Fine. I promise.”
But I lied.
The next memory came like lightning.
Her bedroom again. She was pacing, frantic, muttering under her breath.
“They think it’s funny,” she whispered. “They think it’s a game.”
I stood, reaching for her arm. “Who? Tell me!”
She jerked away. “You don’t understand. They’re untouchable.”
“Then let me fight them.”
“You can’t fight them, Sam!” She turned on me, eyes blazing with fury and fear. “You’ll lose. You’ll lose everything.”
I’d never seen her like that. So raw. So broken.
I whispered, “Then what do I do?”
Her voice cracked. “Forget me.”
My heart shattered. “I could never forget you.”
She covered her face with her hands, sobbing quietly. “I wish you could.”
The dream blurred, but the words stayed sharp. Her last days weren’t filled with peace. They were filled with silence, with secrets she carried to her grave.
And every time I reached for her, she pushed me away—not because she didn’t love me, but because she was terrified of dragging me down too.
I jolted awake, gasping for air. My face was wet. My throat ached. For a moment, I didn’t know where I was. The dorm walls loomed above me, foreign and cold. Elias slept across the room, oblivious.
But her voice still rang in my ears.
They won’t let me go.
They’re untouchable.
Untouchable. Declan and his gang. The Wards, their filthy money, their power. That’s what she’d meant. That’s why no one investigated. That’s why she’d died with those shadows in her eyes.
I pressed my palms to my face, shaking, trying to hold myself together.
“I won’t let them win,” I whispered into the darkness. “Not again.”
The next morning, I couldn’t focus on anything. The world felt muted, like I was walking through water. My sister’s voice still haunted me, twisting my insides.
At lunch, one of Declan’s lackeys nudged me. “Yo, Hale. You alive?”
“Fine,” I muttered, stabbing at my food.
Declan smirked from across the table. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
My fork froze. My stomach turned.
He leaned forward, eyes glinting. “Don’t tell me you’re scared already. The party hasn’t even started.”
The table erupted in laughter. I forced a thin smile, but my hands trembled under the table.
A ghost. If only he knew.
Later that night, I sat on my bed, staring at the blank page of my notebook. I wanted to write everything down—the memories, the flashes, the way her voice still echoed in me. But my hand wouldn’t move.
Instead, I whispered, “You didn’t tell me everything. But I’ll find it. I swear I will.”
Behind me, Elias shifted. His voice was soft, cautious. “Who are you talking to?”
My heart lurched. I slammed the notebook shut. “No one.”
He studied me, eyes sharp in the dim light. “You looked… sad.”
“I’m fine.”
“You always say that.”
I bit my lip, staring at the floor. For a second, I wanted to tell him. About her. About the notes. About everything.
But I couldn’t. Not yet.
Because even as the memory of her voice broke me apart, one truth remained:
Someone else knew too. Someone who’d written those notes.
And if my sister hadn’t told me everything… then maybe the answers I needed were in their hands.
A knock sounded at the door. Sharp. Three times.
Elias glanced at me, frowning, then stood to open it.
No one was there.
But when he looked down, there was another folded note on the floor.
He picked it up slowly, his brow furrowing as he read the name scrawled across the front.
Sam.
My blood ran cold.