We watch the building burn.
The fire eats everything, old and new, sacred and profane. The heat paints the world red and black, the smoke a ribbon twisting up to the sky.
I am not what they made me.
I am what I choose.
I lean into Julian, feeling his heart thunder against my back. We are a single animal, two souls fused in violence and devotion.
He whispers, “You did it.”
“So did you.”
He laughs, soft and low. “We’re free.”
The word is strange, but good.
We stand there until we get bored of watching, until the only thing left of Westpoint is the memory of what it tried to be.
When we finally turn to go, the windows have shattered and the roof has splintered and caved in.
I know, as we walk away, that the world will never forgive us.
But it will never own us again.
I am Amara Roth.
A woman reborn by a monster chosen to be mine. A monster who was never really a monster, just a man trying to do right in a world where all he was taught is wrong.
A man who will only become the monster he holds at bay if he needs to protect me.
I emancipate myself from my lineage and choose the only person who ever gave a shit enough to make good on his word.
And I am never going back.
Chapter 18: Julian
Itisquietforone perfect second, the only sound Amara’s breathing and the crackle of Westpoint devouring itself. Then the first scream erupts, and the spell is broken.
Then Isolde crumples, folding in on herself with a gasp before water falls from between her legs. Rhett is beside her before the sound has finished, hands bracing her back, his face morphing from post-violence glory to abject terror.
“Shit,” he panics. “Shit. Shit. Fuck. She’s in labor. It’s happening now.”
Isolde’s mouth twists into a snarl. She tries to laugh, fails, then punches Rhett in the shoulder. “No shit, Einstein.” Her breath is coming fast, sweat already beading her brow.
The others freeze, staring, and for the first time since tonight began, uncertainty creeps into their faces. Bam drops the gas can, forgetting it, and stands stupidly with his hands out, as if he might catch a baby that falls from the sky.
The screaming from students standing dumbly the quad rises in pitch. Fire engines sound in the distance. The orange glow behind us has become a full-fledged inferno, shadows skittering along the lawn.
Rhett tries to scoop Isolde up. She bats him away, but he ignores her and half-drags, half-carries her toward the road.
“Somebody call a fucking ambulance!” Eve yells, brandishing her phone and fumbling with the screen.
“No, get… me in the truck. Faster.” Issy groans.
Rhett keeps going toward his truck. Colton follows, Eve in tow. Bam lopes after, holding Dahlia’s hand. Caius watches them go, then turns to us, expression impassive.
“Guess I’ll head to the cabin and make food and grab beer.” He runs his hand through his hair. “O is gunna wanna know she’s about to be an aunt, anyway.”
