“Ruella, stay with me. You can’t go,”His voice cracks as he holds me to his chest. “You promised you would always stay,”
I lift my bloody hand and softly trace his cheek, the action so exhausting it drops back to the ground.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, my voice ragged, breaking into a cough. There is so much to say, but I don’t think I will get it all out.
“No. I’m sorry, I should have been with you. I should never have left your side,”
“I need you to start living for you, Asher,” I gasp. “Smile. Let the world see it, let it smile back at you,”
“You… you’re the only thing that makes me happy, I need you here with me. Always,” he sobs. “I love you,”
A single tear slips down my cheek, but it’s not sorrow. Relief. Joy. Even now… someone loves all of me.
A dark haze creeps into my vision. My eyelids feel impossibly heavy.
“No. Stay awake, baby. I can hear the sirens. You’re going to make it,” he pleads, shaking me gently.
“Don’t you dare leave me, Rue. We have places to go, adventures to live. Europe. All the food. I want to see you in a white dress, a swollen belly one day. Even your scowl when I piss you off. We have too much left. I need you. Stay. Please!"
I can’t respond. My chest heaves. The world narrows to him, his tears on my face, his desperate voice in my ears.
“I love you too.” I whisper, barely audible, before everything erupts into blackness.
A guttural scream echoes through the church, raw and primal, as the world falls away.
THIRTY NINE
ASHER
The coffin lowers into the earth as the final song drifts through the air, a melancholy echo swallowed by the wind. Soft sniffles and quiet sobs fill the space that follows, the kind of silence that weighs on the chest. One by one, the mourners step forward, dropping white roses into the grave, the petals stark against the dark soil, a fragile contrast between beauty and decay.
We stand back, waiting as the last few people move away, leaving the hollow behind. The finality of it all presses down like a stone, crushing, yet somehow merciful. At least now, she isn’t suffering. At least now, she’s free.
Daylan goes first, jaw tight. Jacob follows, his movements stiff and deliberate. Piper tries to hide her sobs, but her trembling hand gives her away as she tosses her rose in and flees toward the car park. Daylan catches up to her, his arm slipping around her shoulders as Jacob watches after them, longing shadowing his face. They haven’t spoken since that night, and I’m not sure they ever will again. Too much pain. Too much history. And now, with a baby on the way, their broken pieces might never fit back together.
I draw in a slow, steadying breath.
Then, a small, warm hand slides into mine.
“You ready?”
I look down and see her. My heart clenches, relief and love intertwining in my chest. Thank God, I still have her to hold. We were so damn lucky. I’ll never take another day with her for granted. Even when she drives me up the wall, even when the ghosts of that night threaten to pull me under again.
She’s here.
We’re here.
“With you by my side, I’m ready for everything,” Ruella squeezes my hand before leading us to the grave.
“I’m sorry we didn’t reach you sooner,” I drop the rose gently onto the casket.
“I am so sorry, Bronwyn,” Ruella’s voice is soft, breaking, as tears spill down her cheeks. We linger a moment before making our way back to the car.
As you can imagine the real authorities were never called in by the academy, but with a heavy push from Corden’s brother and his company, along with us and Jacob’s ties, everything came out. Not only was Mr. Chapman involved, but also Mr. Carmichael. He turned his head when girls went missing and lied to the parents for a hefty fee, not that they ever really cared in the first place. That was the beauty of picking off the ones they did, no one cared enough to look closer.
The one mistake, however.
Marlowe Astor.
