The boardroom doors slammed open at 9 AM.
I watched Dante walk in. Navy suit. No tie. Amber eyes that made my chest hurt. He looked healthy. Strong. Confident.
He was dying.
I could see the death cloud around him. Grey and thick. Wrapping around his body like smoke. Thirty days. Maybe less.
He didn't know yet. But I did.
I always know.
He sat across from me. Our eyes met. My heart slammed against my ribs.
Stop it, I told myself. You've watched him die a hundred times. This shouldn't hurt anymore.
But it did.
"Let's begin," I said coldly.
The meeting exploded. Twenty-two people screaming about money. Lawyers waving papers. Board members pounding tables.
I didn't hear any of it.
I was watching Dante.
His hand pressed against his stomach. His jaw clenched. His breathing hitched.
Then he coughed.
Not a small cough. A wet, ugly, body-shaking cough.
He grabbed a tissue. Pressed it to his mouth. Pulled it away.
Red.
Bright red blood.
He shoved it in his pocket fast. But I saw it.
My pen cracked in my hand. Ink spilled everywhere. I didn't care.
"Everyone out," I said.
The room went silent.
"Ms. Sterling—" one lawyer started.
"NOW."
They scrambled for the door. Chairs scraped. Papers scattered. In thirty seconds, the room was empty.
Just me and Dante.
I stood up. Walked toward him. My heels clicked on the marble floor like a countdown.
Click. Click. Click.
He watched me come closer. His face showed nothing. But his hand was shaking.
"Show me," I said.
"Show you what?"
"The tissue."
His jaw tightened. "I don't know what you're—"
"Don't lie to me." I stopped in front of him. Close enough to touch. "I saw the blood. Show me."
Something flickered in his eyes. Fear. Then anger. Then surrender.
He pulled the tissue from his pocket.
Red. Wet. Damning.
I took it from him. My fingers brushed his. Warm skin. Human skin. Dying skin.
"How long have you known?" I asked.
"Since this morning."
"What did they tell you?"
"Pancreatic cancer. Stage four." He laughed bitterly. "Thirty days."
My chest cracked open. Ten thousand years of walls came crashing down.
Thirty days.
I'd watched this man die in a hundred different ways. Sword through his heart in ancient Rome. Fever in medieval England. Drowning in the Atlantic. Bullet in a war I can't remember the name of.
Every single time, I lost him.
Every single time, I broke.
And now cancer. The slowest death. The cruelest death. Thirty days of watching him fade while I stood helpless.
"I can save you," I whispered.
He stared at me. Then laughed. Hard and bitter.
"You're a CEO. Not a doctor."
"I'm neither."
"Then what are you?"
I grabbed his hand.
And I stopped time.
The clock on the wall froze. The voices in the hallway died. A fly hung in the air. His coffee stopped moving. Everything went silent.
Five seconds.
Then I let go.
Time snapped back. The clock ticked. The voices returned. The fly buzzed away.
Dante stared at me. His face was pale. His mouth hung open.
"What the hell was that?" he breathed.
"That was me."
"That's impossible."
"Nothing is impossible." I stepped back. "Come to my office. Tonight. Midnight. And I'll explain everything."
I turned toward the door.
"Lyra."
I stopped. Didn't turn around.
"Are you human?"
My eyes burned. My throat closed.
"No," I whispered. "I haven't been human for a very long time."
I walked out.
In the elevator, I pressed my back against the wall and slid to the floor. My hands were shaking. My eyes were wet.
I had thirty days.
Thirty days to save the man I loved.
Thirty days to tell him the truth.
Thirty days before I watched him die again.
The elevator dinged. I stood up. Wiped my eyes. Fixed my face.
Lyra Sterling doesn't cry.
But tonight, she might.
---
The clock hit midnight.
I sat in my dark office. Waiting. The city glittered below me like fallen stars. I used to love those lights. Now they just reminded me of everything I'd lost.
The elevator dinged.
My heart stopped.
The doors opened.
Dante stepped out. Same suit from this morning. Wrinkled now. Tie gone completely. Hair messy. Eyes red.
He'd been crying.
The strongest man I knew had been crying alone in his apartment while cancer ate him alive.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to rage at the universe. I wanted to burn down heaven for doing this to him again.
Instead, I stood up.
"You came," I said.
"You stopped time." He walked toward me. Slow. Careful. Like I might explode. "I think I deserve answers."
"Sit down."
"I'd rather stand." He said
"Sit. Down."
He sat.
I poured two glasses of whiskey. Handed him one. Sat across from him.
The silence stretched between us. Thick and heavy.
"Ask," I finally said.
"What are you?"
"A goddess."
He laughed. Then saw my face. Stopped laughing.
"You're serious."
"Yes."
"A goddess. Like... Greek mythology? Zeus and Hera?"
"Older." I took a sip. "Much older."
"How old?"
"Ten thousand years. Give or take a century."
His glass slipped. Whiskey spilled on his pants. He didn't notice.
"Ten thousand years," he repeated.
"Yes."
"And you look... twenty-five?"
"Twenty-five forever." I smiled bitterly. "Lucky me."
He stood up. Walked to the window. Pressed his forehead against the glass.
"This is insane," he muttered.
"Yes."
"You're insane." He said
"Probably."
"I'm dying of cancer and the woman I've been fighting for six months is telling me she's a goddess."
"Yes."
He turned around. His eyes burned into mine.
"Prove it."
"I already did. I stopped time."
"Do something else." He said
I stood up. Walked to him. Stopped inches away.
"Look at my eyes," I said.
He looked.
I let go.
Just for a second. I dropped every wall. Every mask. Every human disguise.
My eyes turned to stars. Literally. Galaxies swirled in my pupils. Light poured from my skin. The room filled with the smell of rain and roses and ancient magic.
Then I pulled it back.
Dante stumbled backward. Hit the window. Slid down until he sat on the floor.
"Oh my God," he whispered.
"Yes," I said. "That's me."
He looked up at me. This powerful man. This stubborn CEO. This dying human.
He looked terrified.
"What do you want from me?" he asked.
And there it was. The question I'd been dreading. The truth I'd been avoiding.
"I want to give you my power," I said. "I want to make you immortal. I want you to take my place so I can finally die."
His face went white.
"Die? You want to die?"
"More than anything."
"Why?"he asked
I knelt in front of him. Took his face in my hands. Looked into those amber eyes I'd loved for ten thousand years.
"Because I'm tired," I whispered. "Because living forever isn't a gift. It's a curse. Because I've watched everyone I love die while I go on and on and on."
A tear slid down my cheek.
"Because I've watched you die a hundred times, Dante. And I can't do it again."
He grabbed my wrists. Pulled my hands from his face.
"What do you mean a hundred times?"
"You're not new to me. Your soul keeps coming back. Different names. Different faces. Same person." I smiled through my tears. "In ancient Greece, you were Marcus. In medieval England, you were Thomas. In the Civil War, you were James. Every time, I find you. Every time, I love you. Every time, you die."
His grip tightened.
"And this time?"
"This time, I can stop it. I can make you immortal. You'll never die again."
"And you?" He said
"I'll be free." I closed my eyes. "I'll finally rest."
The silence stretched forever.
Then he spoke.
"No."
My eyes snapped open.
"What?"
"No." He stood up. Pulled me with him. "I won't take your power. I won't let you die."
"You don't understand—"
"I understand perfectly." He gripped my shoulders. His amber eyes blazed. "You're tired. You're lonely. You've been suffering for ten thousand years. I get it."
"Then let me go—"
"Never."
His voice cracked the word like thunder.
"I don't care if I have thirty days or thirty seconds. I'm not letting you die. We'll find another way."
"There is no other way!"
"Then we'll make one!" He said
He pulled me into his arms. Held me tight. His heart pounded against my chest.
And for the first time in ten thousand years, I felt something I'd forgotten existed.
Hope.
"You impossible man," I whispered.
"You impossible goddess," he whispered back.
The city glittered below us. The clock ticked toward tomorrow. Cancer ate at his body while immortality ate at my soul.
We were both dying.
But maybe, just maybe, we could save each other.
If we had enough time.
The problem was, we didn't.
Twenty-nine days left.
And the universe was already coming to collect.