Then another piece.
And another.
They watched in silent, helpless horror as the cliff collapsed, taking the toppled remnants of Triskelion Castle with it.
Both the cliff and the castle that once sat atop it disappeared into the sea, taking the bodies of anyone left inside down into the cold, peaceful dark.
The End
Ha ha. Just kidding. How mad would you be…
EPILOGUE
Caesar was in labor.
Seb leaned against the wall in the hall, listening to the increasingly pain-filled sounds coming from inside the delivery room.
Maybe a joke would help.
He stuck his head in, eyes closed so he wouldn’t see anything that would scar him for life.
“Ave Caesar, morituri te sal?—”
“Youareabout to die,Sebastian,” Seb’s best friend snarled, using his full first name. Her words dissolved into a tight scream that escaped between her teeth.
A hand yanked him into the room.
“You piss her off, you get to be in here,” Devon whispered, his normally cold demeanor gone. He looked frazzled—hair standing on end, shirt misbuttoned, the corners of his eyes tight with worry.
He looked exactly like what he was—a loving husband and soon-to-be father who felt helpless in the face of his wife’s pain.
Franco, on the other hand, was handling it like a champ. He was on the bed behind Juliette, supporting her as she knelt with her forearms braced on a bar mounted at the foot of the bed.
“Back labor,” Franco said sagely as he savagely ground the heels of his hands into Juliette’s lower back. It looked like he was trying to dislocate her spine.
Based on the sigh of relief she let out, a broken spine was apparently exactly what she wanted.
Juliette lifted her head. Her messy bun was listing to one side, her face flushed, eyes bright.
“Call me Caesar one more time.” She bared her teeth. “I dare you.”
The door opened, heels clicking as a newcomer joined them.
As Juliette’s best friend, it was Seb’s job to help keep her spirits up…by giving her somewhere to direct that labor-pain induced rage.
“Ave Caesar,” Sebatian said cheerfully, “morituri te sal?—”
Juliette jabbed her thumb down and snarled.
“The thumb symbol isn’t accurate,” Sophia said, her Italian accent making each word lush. “It’s better to sayiugula.”
“Iugula,” Juliette repeated, panting softly. “What does it mean?”
“Cut his throat.”
“I like it.” Juliette grinned, eyes glittering with a dark savagery that was exactly why she was Caesar. “Devon, next time Seb says something stupid, cut his throat.”
“Thanks for that,” Sebastian muttered to Sophia.
