Amaris, she had named me.
Lucia Amaris. Selene Amaris.
“Everything will work out as it should,” he says quietly. “Lucia was so very proud of you, Selene. As am I. To see you these last weeks has been the greatest privilege of my life.”
He inhales. “I wish that it had been longer.”
No.
I don’t look away as Merrick turns away. To Callan.
Instead, I’m staring at his features. Searching for any familiarity in what I have seen in the looking glass, but I don’t find it. His words run through my mind on a jumbled loop, faster and faster as wind whistles in my ears and my chest constricts.
Merrickis my father.
And Lucia, my mother.
Callan is sobbing. Sobbing around the gag, his eyes fixed on Merrick. He strains desperately against the restraints, the veins in his neck protruding with the effort, but the sheer number of men holding him makes it impossible for him to do more than lift his head.
“Callan,” Merrick steadies himself. “Close your eyes, lad. Go on, now.”
Callan shudders. His head lowers to the ground, his body trembling.
But I do not close my eyes. I do not turn away.
I force myself to watch, even as tears blur my vision. As the bag is placed over Merrick’s head, he stands straight and steady.
Cries echo through the crowd. A few angry shouts, before guards spread out and silence falls.
It happens just as I saw in the shadows. The male, standing quietly with his head bowed. He makes no noise. His hands do not shake.
Hesmiles.
The trapdoor below him opens, and my cry is caught, stolen by the metal.
Merrick falls, the snap echoing through the now silent square.
And his silhouette spins slowly against the wall behind beneath a dull, gray sky.
Merrick is dead. My father… dead.
And we are lost.
Chapter forty-seven
Callan
Ibarely register the hands that drag us from the stage.
I can’t fuckingbreathe.I can’t look.
If I don’t look, then it did not happen.
He didn’t—
He is not gone.
My legs crumple beneath me, but they don’t stop, dragging my knees over the ground with ruthless efficiency.
