Chapter 34
THIRTY-FOUR
LAUREN
Waiting is its own special kind of torture, and right now, I’m pretty sure I’m in hell.
Not the fire-and-brimstone kind—more like the sitting-in-a-vampire-den-while-the-man-you-love-fights-literal-space-monsters kind. Which, ya know, wasn’t covered in any of my anxiety management therapy sessions.
I pace back and forth across the stone floor, my sneakers making soft squeaking sounds that echo in the cavernous room.
Hannah and I have been taking turns entertaining Raven, who’s been flying loops around the ceiling for hours now.
The only way to keep the kid quiet was to let her drop the glamour, and honestly, watching a tiny demon-child do barrel rolls is oddly soothing when you’re trying not to completely lose your shit.
We haven’t seen the vampires since they fled to whatever underground panic room they have. Smart. I’d hide too if giant space creatures were headed for the sun.
The news plays on an endless loop—footage of the Devourers flying toward space, over and over and over. I ran out of nails to bite about an hour ago, so now I’m working on the skin around my cuticles. Attractive, I know. Mom would be horrified.
Stop it, I tell myself. He’s fine. They’re fine. They have to be fine.
Except I have no idea if that’s true, do I? Because I let them fly off into actual space without me, and now all I can do is sit here like some damsel in a goddamn tower, waiting and hoping and—
The door bursts open.
I shoot to my feet, heart in my throat.
It’s just Layden. He’d disappeared earlier to monitor things on his laptop—whatever “things” means when you’re tracking apocalyptic space creatures.
“The runes are gone!” he announces dramatically, like he’s delivering the final line in a play.
I look around, confused. Is this supposed to mean something to me? But everyone else reacts like he just announced Christmas came early.
“How?” Kharon asks, his deep voice cutting through the chatter.
“I don’t know,” Layden says, already typing furiously on his phone. “They just disappeared. The whole angelic AI—gone. Like it never existed. Which shouldn’t be possible because it was a learning entity. There’s no way to just scrub it—”
“Look—” Hannah interrupts, pointing at the TV.
I spin toward the screen. A banner reading “Breaking News” scrolls across the bottom. Hannah grabs the remote and cranks up the volume.
The newscaster’s perfectly coiffed hair doesn’t move as he speaks. “We’re now receiving information from official sources that everything we’ve witnessed today was due to an incredible coordinated internet hoax, complete with deep-faked videos—”
“Bullshit,” Layden mutters, eyes glued to his phone.
The newscast continues its government-sponsored gaslighting routine. Shelter-in-place orders. National Guard deployments. Everyone struggling to make sense of what they all saw with their own eyes that the news is now telling them didn’t happen.
I tune it out.
Because none of it matters. Not the conspiracy theories, not the government cover-up, not whether the world believes what happened.
All that matters is: where are they?
My heart pounds a double rhythm that sounds like their names. Remus. Romulus. Remus. Romulus.
The newscast drones on. Layden and Phoenix burst in with updates about the AI disappearing. Abaddon arrives and everyone starts arguing about what it all means, whether the threat is really over, whether Remus actually succeeded.
I can’t listen to this anymore.
My feet are moving before I make the conscious decision, carrying me down the hallway, through the heavy doors, out into the courtyard. The gray sky stretches overhead, empty and indifferent. No wings. No angels. Nothing.
I stare up anyway, like I can will them into existence through sheer force of wanting.
Where are you?
Being out here won’t make them come back faster. I know that. Logically, I know that standing in this courtyard staring at the sky like a wishful idiot won’t change anything.
But my whole life, I’ve been the girl who waited. Who stayed inside. Who did what she was told and hoped things would get better.
Maybe being out here, under the open sky, is my way of finally doing something instead of just enduring.
I close my eyes.
Please.
I don’t even know who I’m praying to anymore. God? The universe? Remus and Romulus themselves, if they can somehow hear me across whatever impossible distance separates us?
Please, bring them home. Please let them be safe.
My throat tightens. My hands ball into fists at my sides.
I never deserved them the first time—I know that.
I’m just some random human with nothing special about her except a history of making catastrophically bad decisions.
But please. Please bring them back to me, and I swear I’ll never take another moment for granted.
I swear I’ll be worthy of this. Of them.
I open my eyes and look up at that empty gray sky.
And I wait.
Because what else can I do?
I’m not a warrior. I can’t fly. I can’t fight space monsters or save the world. I’m just Lauren—mediocre, ordinary Lauren—who can’t even keep a job or escape her mother’s house without divine intervention.
The wind picks up, cold against my face. I wrap my arms around myself.
Please.
I don’t know how long I stand there. Minutes? Hours? Time feels weird and stretched out, like taffy pulled too thin.
My knees start to ache. My neck is cramping from staring up so long. But I don’t move. Can’t move. Because the second I go back inside is the second I admit defeat, and I’m not ready for that yet.
Not when it comes to them.
For once in my useless, passive life, I’m going to stand here and hope. I’m going to demand something from the universe instead of just accepting whatever scraps I’m given.
I’m going to—
“My mortal beloved, behold!”
The voice booms across the courtyard like thunder, and I nearly fall over from how fast I spin around.
“Your god is here among you!”
Him.
I swing my head up so fast my neck cracks audibly, but I don’t care because it’s him, it’s them, they’re—
My vision blurs with sudden tears. I blink them away frantically because I need to see, need to confirm this is real and not just my desperate imagination conjuring what I want most.
But no. He’s real. He’s here.
Remus descends from the sky with those massive black wings spread wide, and he’s glowing. Like, actually glowing—his whole body radiating light so bright I have to shield my eyes.
I don’t care.
I run.
My feet pound across the courtyard stones, arms reaching out even though he’s still ten feet up, and when he touches down I practically tackle him.
“Remus!”
His arms come around me immediately, crushing me against him so tight I can’t breathe, can’t think, can only feel the solid reality of him. Alive. Here. Home.
The light from his chest vibrates through me, hot and bright and so intense I have to squeeze my eyes shut or go blind.
“I’m home, my love,” he says, and his voice is different. Deeper. Like it’s resonating from somewhere beyond just his chest. “You gave me strength when all was lost.”
“What happened?” The words come out half sob, half laugh. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
“I vanquished the foe.” He says it so matter-of-factly, like he just ran to the store for milk instead of, you know, saving the entire freaking world. “We are safe.”
I squeeze him tighter, not ready to let go. Not sure I’ll ever be ready to let go.
“We have to tell everyone,” I manage. “They’re still freaking out, thinking the world might end.”
“In a moment.” His arms tighten around me. “I must hold you first.”
And he does.
At first, it’s just warmth from the light—pleasant, like standing in sunshine. But then it starts to build. The warmth becomes heat. The heat becomes burning.
“Ow.” I try to pull back but his arms are iron bands. “Remus, that’s—ow, let go—”
“Do not be afraid, beloved.” His voice is calm. Too calm for how much this hurts. He bends his head over mine, holding me impossibly tighter. “Trust me.”
“It’s burning!” The pain spikes from uncomfortable to agonizing in seconds. I struggle against his grip, which is completely useless—he’s always been stronger, but now he’s literally immovable. “It’s burning me! Let go!”
I start to scream—I can’t help it, the pain is that intense—but right when I’m about to completely lose it, something shifts.
The burning becomes cool. Icy tingles spread across my skin like I’ve been dunked in a frozen lake. And there’s something else—a humming warmth blooming in my chest that has nothing to do with external heat.
Remus finally releases me.
I stumble backward, gasping, tears streaming down my face. What the hell was that? Why did he—?
I can finally open my eyes without pain. The first thing I notice is that he’s not glowing quite as brightly anymore.
The second thing I notice is why.
“What did you do?” My voice comes out shrill as I stare down at my own chest.
Because I’m glowing now. Like someone stuck a nightlight under my ribs.
“I have shared my life spark with you.” Remus steps close, his glowing eyes wilder than I’ve ever seen them—and that’s saying something. He reaches out and traces my cheek with one finger. The touch sizzles, but not with pain. I hiss at the intensity.
“After absorbing power from the Devourers when I destroyed them, I saw so many things clearly. My brothers—without even realizing it—they bestowed extended lifespans upon their wives through offspring.”
My eyes go wide.
“But I could not wait for that chance with you.” His voice drops, rough with emotion. “An extended life is not enough. Today, I realized how easy it would be to lose you.”
I look down at the glow coming from my chest. Back up at him. “What does this mean?”
His grin is pure Remus—wild and unrepentant and absolutely thrilled with himself. “You will now live forever with me.”
I nearly choke on my tongue. “Forever? As in... forever forever?”
He nods, then does something I’ve never seen him do before.
He bows his head.
“If you’ll have us.”
And from the back of his bowed head, I see Romulus’s eyes open. Blinking at me.
“We love you,” Romulus says, his voice quiet but clear. “It can be us. Together. Forever.”
I stare at them. Both of them. Awake. Together.
Something huge must have happened up there in space—something that changed everything. Because this is not the Remus who left. And this is definitely not the same dynamic between the twins.
“Well?” Remus peeks up at me, and for the first time since I’ve known him, he looks uncertain. Vulnerable. “Will you have us?”
And here’s the thing.
Six weeks ago, I was unemployed, living in my mother’s house, being reminded daily that I was a disappointment and a failure. I had no prospects, no hope, and the biggest risk I took was waving at a winged man in a plaza.
Six weeks ago, I believed I was powerless. That I had to accept whatever scraps of affection people threw my way. That I had no right to ask for more, to demand better, to use my voice to stand up for what I wanted.
I believed I was fundamentally unworthy of love.
But standing here, glowing like a firefly with my chest full of divine power, staring at two immortal beings who just offered me forever?
I realize something.
I chose to wave that day. I volunteered. And ever since, I’ve continued chosing to stand up to both of them when they tried to make decisions about my life without me.
I’ve been choosing all along.
And I’m choosing now.
I throw my arms around Remus—around both of them—and pull them close.
“Forever,” I say, and my voice is strong. Clear. No hesitation. “I choose forever.”
Because I deserve to be loved. I deserve to have a voice and be heard and be treated like I matter.
And anyone who says otherwise can fight me.
Well. Me and my two immortal god-boyfriends who can fly and shoot fire and literally just saved the world.
Remus sweeps me up in his arms, spinning me around, laughing that wild, joyful laugh that makes my heart soar.
When he sets me down, we’re both glowing. Both grinning like idiots.
Both choosing this.
“Come on,” I say, grabbing his hand. “Let’s go tell everyone the world didn’t end.”
“Yet,” Remus adds with a mischievous grin.
“Behave,” I say.
And as we head back inside—me, glowing and immortal and absolutely certain I just made the best decision of my now eternal life—I think about all the versions of Lauren that led me here.
The scared girl in the hospital. The doormat girlfriend who let Michael use her. The “embarrassment” who couldn’t live up to her mother’s expectations. The powerless woman who thought she had to accept whatever life gave her.
They’re all still part of me. But they don’t define me anymore.
Because I’m also the woman who waved at a god. Who demanded to be part of her own story. Who refused to be silenced or sidelined. Who chose impossible, complicated, forever love even when the smart, safe thing would have been to run.
I’m Lauren fucking Martinez.
And I’m just getting started.