Only it hadn’t been enough. Nowhere near it.
After all, it was Ilasall’s fault Gedeon was gone. If the city’s military hadn’t slithered into our compound, rounded the participants from the Matching we’d smuggled them out of, and stolen our women for fertility testing—again—Gedeon would’ve been standing beside me. Biting my neck. Ordering me to crawl.
So in the ten weeks that had followed the day he’d died, I’d adhered to a schedule. One guard or soldier delivered to me—or caught by me, depending on my mood—for every three days I’d planned our next moves. Devised a war strategy with Kali, Conall, and Damia. Took care of the compound matters.
Free time drifted through our fingers like sand, as any spare minute meant either training or fucking like there was no tomorrow, both activities involving bruises and cuts, rough and fast.
Kali would tuck herself into my side and murmur my name in a chant while I locked my arms around her, caged her in, and inhaled the cloud of sex and sweat—the glue holding us together until darkness sheltered us under its wing.
Until dawn broke and the cycle began anew.
7
GEDEON
Before nothingness had claimed me, I had realized one thing. No matter how much you wanted to be in control, to protect, to own their lives, you had to listen to their choices. Life or death, it was theirs to pick.
Freedom was such a subjective thing. For Kali, it meant obliterating the oppression suffocating Ilasall. For Zion, acceptance—ours of his need to sow pain and his of being needed.
For me?
Them.
As simple as that. My freedom could be described as having the two people my soul dreamed of at my side. Smiling, safe, and alive.
Unfortunately, no words had left me in time.
Not like they could now. I was gone from my previous life. Had been merely watching it through a fogged-up window this morning, the mist serving as my shroud.
My triceps burned as I shoved off the damp forest floor in the last push-up and got to my feet, wiping the sweat off my forehead with a small towel. The treeline failed to conceal thecompound’s buildings looming nearby, the grayness of concrete as dull as the hum of my car’s engine.
Moss squelched under my boots as I strode through the thick haze toward the beat-up vehicle hidden on one of the many desolate roads. In this plane of existence or the next, the drive to Ilasall was going to be identical: long, winding, and…lonely.
Logically, I knew I had to let Kali and Zion go so they could fight for their freedom. So that was what I did—moved on.
And on.
And on.
Toward the end of the open road, with the skeletons of discarded vehicles occasionally dotting the fissured asphalt as my sole company.
FOUR MONTHS AGO
“Oooh, that smells good.” Zion’s wet hair sparkled in the golden sunshine as he strode into the kitchen, barefoot. A pair of gray sweatpants hugged his hips, his toned torso on display, the map of the scars he had collected over the years a sight tempting enough to forget the eggs I was scrambling.
I forced myself to focus back on beating the mixture until foam formed at the top and then emptying the bowl into the heated pan. “Sit.”
Sizzling sounds grated on my eardrums as I fried Zion’s portion of our breakfast. His aversion to properly cooked eggs was staggering. Apparently, egg whites could be consumedonlyif they were as dry as chalk. Regardless of how many times I had attempted to talk him into learning how to enjoy the creamy texture, he insisted on evaporating any moisture.
A chair screeched against the floor, and Kali’s squeal followed. “No, no, stop!” Laughing, she backed away from Zion and dashed through the open door.
“I’ll catch you,” he called out.
After giving an approving nod to the disgustingly lifeless eggs I’d loaded onto his plate, he stalked out of the kitchen, clearly set on chasing our girl.
Last night, in Damia’s compound, Kali had finally admitted she was ours. That she belonged to us, and not just her body, buther.
A smile threatened to split my face apart asI opened the milky white cabinet above the counter?—
