37. The Warden
THE WARDEN
T he Darkmoor forest loomed around me, its shadows twisting under the cold light of the moon. Each step felt heavier than the last, each step away from my brother a bitter reminder of what had been lost—and what couldn’t be undone.
Ava’s limp body, fragile and so damn still, pressed against my chest. Her head lolled against my shoulder, and her hair brushed my jaw, a cruel echo of the countless times I’d held her this close.
It should have felt like freedom—escaping that suffocating tomb—but all I felt was the weight of what waited for us. For her. For me.
The ache in my chest hollowed me out, leaving only the shell of a man still moving forward because I had no choice.
Ava was still in danger. Every moment we lingered was another moment that Ebony could change her mind and come for her.
Ava wouldn’t truly be safe until we left Ireland.
I glanced down at Ava’s face, pale against the darkness, her lashes fanned out across her cheeks. She looked so delicate, almost peaceful in a way that made my chest tighten.
A part of me wanted her to stay unconscious, to never wake up and realize the truth of what I had done.
Of who I had left behind for her .
Of the sacrifice that had been made, one I couldn’t undo no matter how much it ripped me apart.
Her soft groan broke the stillness, and my heart kicked against my ribs.
Ava shifted in my hold, her fingers twitching before pressing weakly against my chest.
My grip instinctively tightened, bracing myself for the storm I knew was coming.
“Shh,” I murmured, my voice low and raw. “Ava, please, stay still. That guard hit you hard. You might have a concussion.”
Her eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, there was only confusion as she stared at my face. But then her body jerked in my arms.
“Ciaran!” she screamed, her voice splintering with desperation as she pushed against my chest, her fists weak but frantic. “We have to go back for him!”
I said nothing. I just held her tighter, feeling her fists batter against my own shattered heart.
“Put me down!” she screamed again, thrashing harder. “We can’t leave him!”
Her words were arrows of guilt aimed at my fractured soul. But I forced myself to stay steady, to keep walking.
“Stop, Ava.” My voice came out rough, thick with the emotion I tried and failed to keep buried. “Don’t make his sacrifice mean nothing. ”
She froze for a heartbeat, her chest heaving against mine as she stared up at me. Her wide, tear-filled eyes searched mine, disbelief etched into every line of her face. I could see the moment her grief twisted, sharp and venomous, into anger.
“ His sacrifice?” she spat, her voice cracking. “You left him, Ty! You sacrificed him!”
Her accusation hung in the air, freezing me mid-step.
My chest felt hollow, my heart beating too fast and too hard against my ribs as the forest seemed to close in, every shadow pressing down on me as if the trees themselves condemned me.
She thrashed harder, her nails raking against my arms. “Let me go!”
I didn’t loosen my grip, but her grief had turned her into something feral, wild.
Somehow, she slipped free, tumbling out of my hold and staggering toward the tomb.
My pulse spiked as I saw her take off, her silhouette barely visible in the dim moonlight.
“No,” I muttered, my voice hoarse, and I gave chase.
My legs moved on instinct, my boots crunching against the frost-covered ground as I closed the distance between us in seconds.
She didn’t make it far—I caught her by the arm and spun her toward me, holding her tight despite her thrashing.
“Let me go!” she sobbed, pounding her fists weakly against my chest. “I have to go back for him.”
Her strength was nothing compared to my grip, but her despair was a force I couldn’t fight .
“Would you trade him for me?” The words escaped me, quiet and raw, a vulnerability I hadn’t meant to show.
Ava froze, her lips parting as if the question had shocked her into silence. For a second, I thought she wouldn’t answer, that her anger would dissipate into the cold night air.
But then her grief surged forward, and she screamed.
“ Yes ! I wish it had been you. ”
Her words tore through me. It echoed in the stillness, a sound that seemed to linger in the trees, in my chest, in my mind.
My arms didn’t loosen, but something inside me broke.
Her screams dissolved into sobs, her body collapsing against mine like a rag doll. The weight of her grief pinned me down, her words reverberating in my skull.
She would trade me.
I had believed we were meant to be, that maybe, just maybe, she would realize that she loved me the way I loved her.
But now, her words filled me with doubt.
Maybe Ava didn’t belong with me.
Maybe she belonged with him.
The brother I’d left behind.
The brother I had sacrificed.
As the dawn was peeking through my dorm bedroom, I threw the last of my essentials into the backpack—a change of clothes, wallet, the fake passport tucked into a side pocket .
The zipper caught for a second before sliding shut, and the sound seemed deafening in the suffocating silence of the dorm.
My hands were steady, my movements deliberate, but my mind was chaos, still reeling from Ava’s angry admission.
“Would you trade him for me?”
“Yes.”
No. Stop it. First, I had to get Ava out of here. Far away. Where she was safe.
Then I could strategize what to do about Ciaran.
I shouldered the bag, the weight of it nothing compared to the weight crushing my chest, and strode to her room.
The door was ajar, a sliver of light spilling into the hall. I shoved it open, my voice ready to bark out an order to hurry—but the words stuck in my throat.
She wasn’t there.
“Ava?” I called, though I already knew she wouldn’t answer.
My gaze swept the room, desperate for a sign she’d been packing, preparing. Instead, it was pristine, untouched, as if she hadn’t even considered leaving.
My eyes landed on the single photo on her bedside table, framed in simple black. I stepped closer, the ache in my chest sharpening like a blade as I took it in.
Ciaran. Asleep in some hotel bed, his face soft with an unguarded peace I’d almost forgotten he was capable of. Behind him, the Eiffel Tower loomed through a window in the background, blurred but unmistakable.
I thought of all the photos I had of her—on my mantle, tucked into books, locked in the drawer of my nightstand back at Blackthorn.
Every snapshot I’d stolen, moments where she looked alive and happy, or even sad and distant. I had collected her like treasures, each one a reminder of why I couldn’t stop loving her.
But this?
She only had one. And it was him .
I set the photo down, the glass smudged with the faint outline of my thumb, and turned toward the hallway.
My heart was pounding, each beat a dull thud against my ribs as I walked to Ciaran’s door, slightly ajar.
I pushed it open, slower this time, bracing myself for what I might find.
The first thing that hit me was the scent. Faint but unmistakable: Ciaran. The woodsy undertone of his cologne lingered in the air, mixing with the stale, hollow atmosphere of a room left empty too soon.
And then I saw her.
Ava was curled up on Ciaran’s bed, her shoulders shaking as silent sobs racked her body. Her face was buried in his pillow, her fingers clutching it like it was the only thing tethering her to the earth.
She didn’t hear me—or maybe she didn’t care.
I stepped back, the door creaking slightly as it moved against my hand. My chest tightened, a vise squeezing every ounce of air from my lungs.
I sagged against the wall outside his room, pressing the heel of my hand to my forehead as the weight of it all crushed me .
“You’ve always belonged to me,” I had told her, “and I will prove it to you.”
And I hadn’t listened when she replied. “Maybe if I had fallen for you first, things would be different. But… it’s always been him.”
She loved him .
She always had.
I clenched my fists as the memories hit me, cruel and relentless. Every moment that had given me hope now felt like a taunt, a mockery of my feelings.
Memories flooded my mind, unbidden and cruel in their clarity.
I saw her in the Blackthorn kitchen, sitting on the counter with that sly little smirk.
I saw her hand lingering on mine as she bandaged my bloodied knuckles, her touch light but her concern heavy.
I saw the look in her eyes when I gave her the engagement ring I’d secretly bought her.
Foolish.
Each memory felt like a dagger, driving deeper into the raw wound of my heart. Those moments—moments I had clung to, that had given me hope—now felt like silly dreams.
And yet I couldn’t hate her for it. I couldn’t even hate him. Ciaran. My brother, who had somehow stolen her heart even as I bled for her.
My legs gave out, and I slid down the wall, my back scraping against the plaster. The numbness came first, spreading like frost through my veins, followed by the burn of helpless anger.
A hollow, bitter laugh escaped me, too quiet for anyone to hear .
I had thought I could win her. That I just had to show her.
But the truth stared me in the face, as undeniable as the girl I loved sobbing on his bed.
I had already lost.
I don’t know how long I sat there, my head in my hands, listening to the muffled sound of her grief. But when I finally looked up, the answer was clear, as sharp and cold as the edge of a knife.
I knew what I had to do.
The heaviness lifted—not entirely, but enough for me to move, to stand. I pushed off the wall, my legs unsteady but determined, and turned toward Ava.
I loved her enough to let her go.
Even if it killed me.