“I’m still here.” He closed his eyes, picturing her face. “Lira, I—”
The words caught in his throat. Five years of hiding how he felt, and now, when it mattered most, he found himself hesitating again.
No. Not this time.
“I love you,” he said, the words rushing out like water breaking through a dam. “Please be safe today. Please come back to me.”
She hesitated for a breath.
“I love you too, Callie.” A pause, then, stronger, “I’ll see you tonight, when this is over.”
She ended the call before he could respond. Callum stared at the tablet in his hand, a strange mix of elation and dread coiling in his stomach.
He hadn’t lost her. They might die today.
Both truths existed simultaneously.
He set the tablet down and leaned back in his chair, surveying the screens again. Everything was proceeding exactly as planned. The rebels were in position. The surveillance was compromised. The weapons were distributed. The prisoners were being moved. The broadcasts were ready.
It was going too smoothly.
Chapter thirty-seven
11:45 AM
Thewarmwaterhadeased some of the pain, but Shadera’s body still felt like a battlefield—each movement a fresh skirmish against her broken ribs and battered flesh. She stood in the center of the bedroom, hair dripping onto the floor, the towel clutched to her chest. Every breath was a negotiation, shallow and careful, to avoid disturbing the fractured treaty with her rib cage.
Her gaze drifted to the bed. She hadn’t noticed it when she’d come home, had been too deep in her mind to see anything but the pathway to the bathroom. A dress—long, white silk, with a slit that would reach her thigh and a neck and back that plunged dangerously low. Beside it lay a shawl to cover her arms and shoulders, and her mask. The skull stared back at her, almost taunting her. Reminding her of what she brought into this world. Death.
Something else caught her eye—a small silver tray holding a folded note and a collection of white pills.
Shadera moved toward it, each step sending ripples of pain through her body. Her muscles protested, begging for rest, for stillness, for mercy she couldn’t afford to grant them. Not today.
She reached the bed and picked up the note with fingers that felt clumsy and swollen. The handwriting was elegant, flowing—nothing like her own jagged scrawl.
Your dress for today. Do not hide the damage he has done to you, let the world see the monster he really is when the time is right. The pills are for the pain, you will need them.
Her eyes moved on to the next line as she stilled.
For what it’s worth, I always wanted a sister.
xo, Li
PS. You can trust the Captain.
Shadera read the note again, then a third time, the words sinking into her consciousness and churning out guilt. She didn’t know what she’d done to her brother.
She read the words again.
I always wanted a sister.
Sister. Family. Belonging. Things Shadera had buried so deep within herself that she’d nearly forgotten the ache of their absence. Things she’d convinced herself she didn’t need, didn’t want, couldn’t have.
Shadera pushed the thoughts away, picking up the tray and dumping the pills into her mouth. She swallowed them dry, feeling their bitter taste scrape down her throat. Whatever they were—painkillers, stimulants, poison—she’d know soon enough. At this point, relief in any form was welcome.
She let the towel drop, the air cool against her naked skin, and avoided her reflection in the mirror as she moved toward the window. The plaza below was filling with people—Heart citizens in their finest clothes, their masks gleaming as they gathered for the spectacle to come. Her stomach twisted at the sight of them, at their eager anticipation of the ceremony that would bind her to Greyson forever.
Not that forever would be very long for either of them. Death seemed the most likely outcome for both of them, regardless of what choices they made, what orders they chose to obey.
