Chapter Thirty-Eight
Dorian
Death permeated the air around us.
Loss was inevitable on both sides, and both sides were prepared to die when they chose to fight.
Everyone had stopped fighting while Draco held his dying love on the ground.
My chest hurt, seeing them.
Seeing the great General Draco in tears as the woman he loved took her final breath.
The memory of me holding Esme’s dying body in my arms, watching the light leave her eyes, flooded my brain. Every soft curve of her body in that blue dress, the way her lips parted from being too weak, her hazel eyes filled with love as she looked at me.
Rose and Draco had looked at each other with love until she died.
I’d only stared at Esme in shock for what she’d done.
Echo, still in wolf form, began to howl for the loss of her friend, bringing my attention to the present. Phillip was crying and running his fingers through his hair. He gambled wrong with all of their lives, and now he’d have to live with the death of his sister. He could have stopped it; he could have stopped all of this, but he didn’t.
The fighting around us began again once Echo attacked the man who’d stabbed Rose, crushing his neck with one bite as she shook her head like the man was a rag doll between her teeth.
I stared at the back of Draco, still holding his dead woman.
“You and I weren’t made to love.” I took a step closer, watching as he slowly pulled the knife out of her gut, placing her hands gently across the wound before lowering her to the ground.
“Goodbye, my wife.” He stood, keeping his eyes on her.
I’d known a future of them marrying was probable, though for them, what was the point? He would outlive her no matter what.
He grabbed hold of the sword that he’d thrown to the ground and turned to face me.
I knew the expression on his face. I knew it because I saw that expression on my own after Esme died.
But I didn’t love her.
He didn’t speak as he approached me, sword at his side. Then he stopped, tears on his cheeks.
“I’d live and suffer for a thousand more years if I got to feel her love for me, even for one minute. I cherished her, I loved her, and I wouldn’t change a damn thing. She was my everything. You had love, and you threw it away like garbage; you are the one who truly suffers between us.”
His sword rose and moved to strike.
Renewed focus to end me was lit inside him.
He fought harder—faster—and I knew he wanted us both to leave this earth tonight.
But that focus in his head was diminished, and the agony of loss took over. It was easy, the movement that impaled my sword into his chest, almost as if he wanted me to do it, but he wouldn’t die despite how much he wished it.
My mind was racing, trying to catch up with all the feelings inside me. This wasn’t how I expected I’d feel. Something wasn’t right.
I looked into the future, seeing it as clear as I had before.
Phillip was walking toward me.
“You’ve lost, and we are free,” I stated, instead of the battle cry I’d seen in my future as Draco fell, sword to his chest.
He would heal, of course, but he would never truly live now that his love was gone.
