When he turns to face the crowd, the roar is deafening. It shakes the stained glass and rattles my ribs and vibrates in the hollow of my throat. It sounds like triumph. It sounds like survival. It sounds like a future I wasn’t sure we’d ever get to hear.
“Long live the king!” someone shouts—freaking Harper, I think, though my ears are ringing—and the room takes up the cry, voices layering over voices until the throne room becomes a cathedral of sound, a monument to hope.
“Long live the king!”
Teddie looks at me, crown gleaming like captured sunlight atop his blond curls, tears streaming down his own face unchecked and unashamed, and smiles. It’s the smile from our childhood, from hiding in the tree branches and our secret language, fromthe hospital bed when he first opened his eyes and saw me there.
I smile back, wrecked and renewed, surrounded by my mates and their steady, stubborn love, watching my twin step into his light while I finally,finally, stand in mine.
“Long live the king,” I whisper, and the words taste like promise. Like prayer. Like the beginning of everything we almost lost, and everything we're brave enough to keep.
The cheering goes on, and Caran is on his feet, shouting with the rest, his face transformed with joy.
And I let myself believe, just for this moment, that everything might actually be okay.
52
BRYLEE
The mall isfull of people chatting and laughing as sunshine filters down through the skylights in beams that seem to infuse the entire space with buoyant, positive energy.
It's a beautiful afternoon, and Harper and I link arms as we stroll down the omega walkway on the second floor past a shoe store. Dressed to remain incognito, with sunglasses and my hair rucked up into a high ponytail that’s got extension, I'm amusing myself by watching a pair of teenage omega girls who are ahead of us. They keep throwing awkwardly shy glances across the balcony toward a group of rowdy alpha boys who seem utterly oblivious as they walk down their side of the mall.
"They areso cute," I say in an undertone, leaning toward Harper, a soft grin on my face as I subtly lift my hand to gesture.
"Aww, I remember that age. Braces. Awfulness," she replies.
"Please, as if you were ever anything short of gorgeous," I scoff.
"Pssh.” She hip checks me with casual ease, though I really meant what I said.
She's wearing a very cute tennis dress today that's earned her several admiring glances, which she hasn't noticed. I'm about to point that out when we both catch a scent in the air.
"Soft pretzeeeeels," she murmurs in a ridiculously silly trance-like tone.
She's been a little giddier than normal lately, but I've been too busy to ask about it.
Me thinks it might have to do with a handsome guard.
Maybe today she'll finally spill the tea.
She glances toward me, a wide grin on her face.
"Pretzels are the best part of coming to the mall," she declares. "Cheat day. Mmmmm, I'm going to eat an entire cup of the mini ones."
We reach the little food stand, which has a line at least ten people deep.
"You're going to get sick if you do," I retort, shuffling the bags on my wrist to redistribute them.
Harper snorts as she glides forward in line, brushing back her dark, pin-straight hair. "You know what you just did? You literally repeated what Kylian told you last time we came. He only says that so he can steal your food."
From the wall he's leaning against on the omega side of the mall—because my men could not be dissuaded from having at least one of them near at all times—Colter straightens. Two omegas turn their strides into a wide semicircle to avoid him and his skull mask, though I can hear them giggling to each other after they pass.
Yes, ladies. He's scary hot.
And mine.
All mine.
