Her Obsession (by Sheridan Hartin) novel Chapter 124

That Girl Died A Long Time Ago.

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The folders feel heavier than paper should. Maybe it’s what’s inside them, or perhaps it’s the weight of what comes next. I leave Nico’s office with both tucked under my arm, the mug of cold coffee forgotten on his desk. My boots hit the hallway hard, steady, too steady for how fast my heart’s beating. First stop is Liam. He’s out back, sleeves rolled up, standing beside Naomi at the barbecue, pretending he’s in charge when she’s clearly bossing him around. I catch his eye, tilt my head, and he knows something’s off. He wipes his hands on a rag, excuses himself quietly, and meets me halfway. Without a word, I hand him the folder with Naomi’s name on it. He takes it like it might burn him. Opens it. Reads the first page. I watch the colour drain from his face, the way his shoulders stiffen, then loosen with the kind of shock you can’t quite process. Then he closes the file slowly, nodding once. No words. Just a look that says thanks. I nod back, and he walks away, the file tucked close to his chest.

Then there’s Sage. She’s still by the barbecue, flipping something on the grill, laughing with Naomi, sunlight catching the silver in her hair. My throat tightens just looking at her, at the peace she’s finally found, even if it’s fragile.

I walk up beside her, resting a hand on her back. “Hey, sweetheart.”

She looks up, eyes narrowing playfully. “You look like you’re about to ruin my good mood.”

“Maybe just borrow it for a bit,” I say softly. “Can we talk?”

She hesitates but nods. Naomi immediately starts teasing her about a secret date, and Sage rolls her eyes before handing over the tongs. “Don’t burn anything, or I’ll haunt you,” she calls over her shoulder.

I lead her across the yard, through the tall grass, to where an old oak tree shades a small garden table. It’s quiet here, the noise of the others fading into a gentle hum behind us. I pull out a chair for her, and she sits, watching me carefully.

“Alright,” she says slowly. “What’s this about?”

I take a breath. “First, the kids. Nico’s found some of their families, most of them, anyway. Some will be staying with us for a while. Some… well, some don’t have anyone good for them out there. We’ll take care of them, yeah?”

She nods, expression softening. “Of course.”

“There’s something else,” I say, and I set the second folder down on the table between us. “Nico found something buried in Yakov’s archives. It’s… personal.”

Her brows pull together as she looks at it. I push it closer to her.

“I’m not sure what you want to do with this,” I tell her quietly. “But it’s your life. Your choice.”

For a long time, she stares at it, her hand hovering over the cover before finally flipping it open. Her eyes scan the pages slowly, methodically, and then stop. I can see the moment it hits her, the photo, the name, the notes. Angelica Romanero.

She doesn’t speak right away. Just breathes, steady but shallow, then closes the file and sets it down like it’s nothing more than dust.

“That’s not me,” she says finally. Her voice doesn’t shake, but it’s quiet.

“I know,” I say. “Not anymore. But if you ever wanted to find them, the people who made that, you won’t do it alone. We’ll go together.”

Her eyes lift to mine, and for a second, the tough, unshakable ghost I know flickers. There’s something softer underneath it. Something

human.

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12:31 Wed, Oct 22

That Girl Died A Long Time Ago.

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She exhales slowly and leans back in her chair, her gaze drifting toward the trees. “No,” she says, shaking her head. “That girl’s gone. She never even really existed. But… thank you for bringing her to me.”

I nod, reach across the table, and take her hand. Her fingers tighten around mine.

“Then we leave her buried,” I tell her.

Sage smiles faintly. “Yeah,” she whispers. “We do.”

The file sits between us, unopened now, and she moves to sit in my lap. My hands curl around her, drawing her in closer to me.

“I have something for you, too.” She says with her eyelashes fluttering up.

“Something for me?” I chuckle.

She stands up first, tugging on my hand. There’s something in her eyes, definitely mischief.

“Come with me,” she says, voice lighter now.

I let her lead. We walk through the house, past the new beams and raw plaster, the scent of sawdust and wet paint filling the air. The back half of the place is still half–gutted, the skeleton of what it used to be. She brings me to the end of the hall, to a door I hadn’t paid much attention to since being back. The frame’s new, but the wall around it is still raw with patchy plaster, a few blackened bones of timber peeking through. She hesitates, just a second, then pushes it open. The air inside is cool, almost sterile. The tiles underfoot are freshly laid, pale and clean. The walls are unpainted, just bare grey concrete, and the light overhead flickers faintly. For a second, I don’t get it, just another half–finished room, until my gaze lands on the thing dead–centre. A glass–door freezer. And behind the glass, perfectly upright, is Yakov’s severed head. His dead eyes stare straight at me.

I blink once, inhale slowly. Then, despite myself, I laugh. A low, rough sound that catches somewhere between disbelief and amusement.

“A gift?” I ask, turning to her, trying not to grin. “For me?”

Sage stands beside me, watching my reaction closely. Her expression is calm, but her fingers are worrying the edge of her sleeve like she’s

nervous.

“The first of many I need to replace,” she says softly, sliding her hand into mine and squeezing. “I figured you deserved another trophy

room.”

I glance back at the freezer, at the face of the man who’d caused her and so many others so much pain. Now he’s nothing more than a

relic.

I turn back to her, eyes warm. “You know, sweetheart,” I murmur, brushing a strand of hair from her face, “you’ve got the strangest way of saying ‘I love you.“”

She smirks. “You’re still figuring that out?”

“Guess I like the surprises,” I admit, pulling her in close.

She leans into me, head on my chest, the faint hum of the freezer the only sound between us. Her hand squeezes mine again, a little tighter this time.

“Do you like it?” she asks, finally lifting her head to look at me.

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12:31 Wed, Oct 22

That Girl Died A Long Time Ago.

I grin down at her, thumb brushing over her knuckles, “I love it. But next time, maybe just a coffee mug with my name on it, yeah?”

She laughs, that bright, wicked sound that’s all her. “No promises, darling.”

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I kiss her forehead, still holding her close, and look back at the freezer. Maybe it’s morbid. Maybe it’s insane. But in its own twisted way, it’s perfect. It’s her way of showing me that she cares.

Chapter Comments

Heather Sweat

7 days ago

love it great ending

16

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