CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
SAM BARELY MADE it down the hall past the stairs.
He vomited and crippled every time he heard her scream. Every time she said she hated him. Every time she called out his name.
He couldn’t help it. It sickened him what he was doing. It sickened him to know she was sitting down there cold in a cell, angry and betrayed.
They had fallen in love, and she had chosen her greed over him—at least, that’s what he kept telling himself every time he started down the steps to take her in his arms and hold her in his bed. To forgive her and get on his knees to beg her forgiveness.
Cold sweat poured from his body. Even his shadows trembled with the weight of his agony.
Rolfe left with two ghost demons from the grounds to take care of the scene at Ana’s apartment, and for the first time in a century, Millie stayed at the castle overnight.
Rolfe had called her the moment he got off the phone with Sam. She’d driven like a banshee all the way up to the castle steps and burst through the doors just as Sam made it to the top of the staircase from the dungeon.
“Sam—“
Millie wrapped her hands under his arms as Sam crumbled to his hands and knees, his stomach evacuating onto the floor.
“Get up, Samarius,” she whispered urgently. “This is not what breaks you.”
Ana screamed again, making his knees give way even though Millie held him. But she grabbed him, using her unnatural strength, and she brought his limp body to his feet, draping his arm over her shoulders.
Ana shouting his name curdled his blood. He shuddered, and Millie urged him forward.
He vomited twice more on the way to the kitchen, far enough away from the dungeons that when Millie pulled the pocket doors closed, the noise numbed behind it.
Sam collapsed into the chair and pushed his hands over his eyes as Millie made for the stove. He hadn’t felt such a break since he’d had to run from the last war. Fuck, why had he done this to himself? Why had he continued going through it—trusted that she wouldn’t do something drastic after the Firemoor soldier had attacked her.
He should have told her that afternoon like his instincts had told him to.
Maybe then…
“You knew it might end this way,” Millie said as she sat a cup of tea in front of him.
Sam ran both hands through his hair, pushing the straight locks back, but failing to keep them out of his eyes when he dropped his chin.
“I didn’t know it would hurt this much,” he admitted, dipping the tea bag up and down, staring at the rippling water as it turned a muggy brown.
The scrape of the spoon in Millie’s cup sounded when she dragged it over the rim. “Are you okay?”
“No,” he answered without looking up.
“What’s your plan?” she asked, bringing the tea to her lips. “Has it changed?”
Sam thought about it, weighed his options, and as he considered it, his insides grew cold. “Do you mean if I still intend to flaunt her in front of the legions already marching at our doors with intentions of bringing back the sun?”
Millie just raised a brow.
Sam settled his forearms on the table and wrapped his long fingers around the cup.
“Yes.”
“You would watch them rip her apart just so you can strike when they are distracted?”
Same took another sip of his tea. “In theory. Yes.”
“I thought you loved her.”
