Everly came to me, her eyes black and wide with worry. “What can I do?” she asked.
“Hold her down,” I said through gritted teeth. “I’ll do the rest.”
While Finley had made up her mind, so had I.
She didn’t get to leave me. She didn’t get to give up. Not like this.
We fought. For ourselves and for each other.
I could live in a world where she wasn’t mine.
But not in a world where she didn’t exist.
Finley was a warrior through and through, and in a moment where her magic wasn’t being utilized for its capacity to destroy, I knew that was so tempting. She had a choice. To do right—to heal—when for so long she’d not had a choice and had hated being the weapon.
But I can’t let her die. Not now. Not in this moment.Yet I knew her unshakable grit and determination.
My magic snapped down the bond, brutal and decisive. I wrapped my smoke around her magic and yanked. Pinned. Cut. Severed the threads between her and the child.
The instant I did, the storm died mid-scream, and the child’s heart didn’t start again.
Finley jerked as if struck and slouched against Everly, who held her by her shoulders. The sound that ripped from her was like nothing I’d ever heard. It was grief and fury and defeat, all bound in a single scream that could tear the sky open.
She collapsed forward, her hands shaking, and her shoulders curling inward as she hovered over the child. She ran her hands over his chest, desperate and refusing to accept that he was gone. Magic flickered at her fingertips before it disappeared.
Her head snapped up, her hair clinging to her tear-stained face, eyes like fire when they met mine.
“I’ll never forgive you for this,” she said, her words shaky but firm.
I crouched down in front of her, my fingers aching to touch her but too afraid to do so.Say something. Say anything.But none of the words in me felt like enough. “Then hate me,” I finally said. “Just don’t leave me.”
Her breath hitched, and she winced as if it hurt to breathe. She rocked, her arms wrapped around herself as if she could hold the pieces I’d just broken. She wasn’t crying delicately. She was breaking. Sobs tore from her chest, soundless between the gasps. The fire that lived in her eyes dimmed like dying embers.
Every instinct in me screamed to hold her. To fix this. But beneath it all was one simple truth.
I’d do it again.
I’d choose her life over anyone. Over any realm. Every time.
That living bond between us pulsed weakly, raw and bleeding like us. Her grief flowed through it like blood. It hurt to breathe with it. But it meant she was still there. She was still alive.
She rose, taking Everly’s offered arm without saying another word. She didn’t have to.
This moment was already carved into us. An open wound neither of us could walk away from.
Her need to save the world.
My need to save her.
Two daggers piercing the same heart.
Chapter
Thirty-Five
FINLEY
The world was quiet.Too quiet.
