43. Ty
TY
T he Sochai guards thought they were breaking me. When they shoved my face against the cold iron bars, when their fists cracked against my ribs, when my blood slicked the damp stone floor beneath me—they thought they were inflicting pain.
But how could they know that physical pain was like a fading bruise?
Because the worst agony I’d ever endured had already hollowed me out.
I had lost her. Ava.
I had lost the love of my life. Because I wasn’t hers .
I lay on the dirty cot in the corner of the cell, cradling my side where the worst of the bruising was, the moldy dampness of the walls pressing in.
A trickle of water from somewhere above kept time with the throb of my battered body.
My thoughts returned to her, as they always did. Not to her absence, but to the life she now had—happy and free .
That thought was my mantra. The thing that kept me alive for one more second. One more breath.
I told myself I could bear this.
My brother had borne it before me. He’d accepted this dark, damp fate, and now so would I.
It felt right somehow, sitting here where he had, staring at the same jagged cracks in the ceiling.
I remembered his resignation, his voice raw as he called my name while being dragged away. I’d replayed that moment so many times that my throat tightened every time.
This is your place, Ty. You were meant to be caged so they could go free.
If my message was received and if Ciaran was able to find what I suspected he might, I could be released from this cell.
But knowing that Ava had chosen Ciaran, it made little to no difference to me.
No matter where I was, no matter how free, if I wasn’t with Ava, I would remain in prison.
No bars or walls could trap me worse than the knowledge that she had chosen him.
I lay back on the ragged cot, letting my swollen eye drift shut. My body ached, but it was nothing compared to the numbness spreading in my chest.
I reached for the only relief I could find—memories of her.
The images flickered through my mind like a cruel slideshow.
Her smile illuminated by the blue light of the fridge, her silvery shoes swinging as she sat on the counter .
The gentle sway of her hair as the summer breeze carried in the scent of mint through the kitchen window.
The way her lips curved around a giggle as water from the glass in her hand teetered dangerously near the edge.
I could still hear her voice, soft and slurred from too much alcohol that night.
“Strawberries,” she’d said dreamily, plucking one from the bowl I offered her. “I want a strawberry patch.”
I’d fed her strawberries.
And she’d told me her dream life. Our dream life. Or at least at the time I thought it was.
The country house by the sea surrounded by a pine forest. The wraparound porch. The strawberry patch. The light and airy rooms with blue drapes. The antique writing desk beside a sunny window. A peaked ceiling in our bedroom. Her library filled with shelves like driftwood and couches the color of sea glass.
For years, I’d held on to that moment as if it were gospel. I’d built her a life in my mind, in stone, in reality. I’d built her a house by the sea, a dream life that would cradle her every want, every need.
And now, that house would stand empty, haunted by the ghost of a man she never truly loved.
A sharp creak of metal jolted me from my thoughts. The heavy door to the cellblock groaned open, and the sound of footsteps echoed against the stone corridor.
I didn’t move. I didn’t need to. It was the guards, here to take their pound of flesh. They could take whatever they wanted. I had nothing left to give.
But then the steps slowed .
They were lighter than a guard’s. Deliberate. Hesitant. My heart gave a single, sharp jolt.
The lock of my cell rattled.
My pulse quickened despite myself, though I kept my face pressed to the wall. I refused to hope. Refused to let myself believe.
Then I smelled jasmine.
My chest seized, and I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek to stop the sound that wanted to rip free. It wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be.
Do not believe. Do not hope.
A hand gripped my shoulder, warm and soft, and I jerked as if burned. I turned slowly, not trusting my eyes or the dim light. And then I saw her.
Ava.
The bulb above cast shadows on her face, but the trembling of her chin and the sheen of tears in her eyes were unmistakable.
“Are you real?” My voice cracked, a hoarse whisper.
Her tears fell faster. She reached out, cupping my cheek, her touch featherlight against the swelling there.
“Ty,” she breathed, and my name was a prayer on her lips. “We did it. It’s over. The Sochai, they’re finished, thanks to you.”
I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t breathe. My chest ached with the force of it—of her, here, against every rational thought.
Then she leaned in and kissed me. Her lips brushed mine, hesitant, desperate, grounding me in a way that made the room spin. I should have pulled away. I should have told her to leave, to go back to the man she’d chosen. But I couldn’t .
When she pulled back, her forehead rested against mine.
Her voice broke as she whispered, “Mhaor, I’ve come to free you.”
The moment Ava and I stepped outside the tomb, the weight of everything that had happened seemed to rush over me all at once.
The dawn was breaking, casting the forest in a pale, ghostly light, and yet it all felt muted compared to the woman standing beside me.
Her hand brushed against mine, hesitant but deliberate. I turned to her, ready to ask if she was alright, but the look in her eyes stopped me. It wasn’t the weariness I expected, or even the lingering fear. There was something softer there. Something I hadn’t dared let myself hope to see.
“I have one last gift for you,” she said, her voice quiet but steady.
A gift? My heart clenched painfully in my chest.
After everything, she was still thinking of me. Of giving me something. Didn’t she know that the only thing I’d ever wanted was her ?
She reached into her pocket, her movements slow, deliberate, as if she were carrying something fragile.
When she pulled her hand free, the sun caught on it, the large diamond glittering like the first star of evening.
The engagement ring I bought her.
My knees nearly buckled as I remembered what I told her. Return it if you want me to propose to you for real .
My heart thudded against my ribs as I searched her face for an answer, any clue as to what this meant.
“W-what does this mean?” I asked, my voice hoarse, barely above a whisper, not daring to hope.
Her lips quirked into the faintest of smiles, and she stepped closer, holding the ring between us.
“It means,” she began, her voice soft but steady, “that I have a story to tell you.”
I didn’t move, didn’t breathe, terrified of breaking whatever spell had brought us here, to this impossible moment.
My entire body felt locked in place, every muscle coiled with tension, as if the wrong movement could shatter everything.
Ava’s fingers traced the edge of the ring, and the way her eyes lingered on it made me ache.
“Many years ago,” she said, her lips curving into a faint, almost wistful smile, “I fell in love with a boy. A boy who came to rescue me when I needed him most.”
My breath hitched, and I wanted to speak, but the words lodged in my throat.
“I told him about my dream house,” she continued, her voice thick with emotion. “About the big library with a view of the sea, driftwood shelves, sea-glass couches. A strawberry patch out back. I told him everything . And that night, I fell in love with him.”
I closed my eyes, remembering that night like it had just happened. Her thighs on either side of my waist as I stood before her, legs dangling from the kitchen island, her voice filling the air as she painted a picture of a life so vivid I could almost taste it, her lips brushing my fingers as she bit the strawberries I offered her .
Ava’s voice broke through my memory. “And for years, I thought that boy was his brother.”
I opened my eyes to find her staring up at me, tears glistening on her lashes. “But all this time, it was you.”
My breath left me in a rush, and I fought to keep myself steady.
She reached out, taking my hand and pressing the ring into my palm. “I choose you .”
I couldn’t stop it.
My knees gave out, and I sank to the ground in front of her, clutching the ring like a lifeline. I tipped my head back, looking up at her like she was the sun itself, blinding and impossible and everything I’d ever wanted.
“I vowed my life to protecting you,” I said, my voice shaking. “But, my little hummingbird, it turns out you don’t need protecting. You never did. So, please…”
I swallowed hard as I clutched at her hands and offered her this ring. “Let me vow my life instead to holding you close when you can’t sleep and chasing away your nightmares before they find you. To challenging you when you’re too stubborn to see sense, but always trusting you to know your own strength. To making you laugh, even when you’re angry with me. To remembering how you take your coffee and to building every dream you didn’t know you had. Marry me.”
For a moment, Ava was still, her expression unreadable again, and my heart stopped. Had I said too much? Was it too soon?
And then she laughed, a soft, breathy sound that stole the tension from the air .
“Silly, Mhaor,” she said, her lips curving into a smile that lit up the world.
Her nickname for me struck me, and my heart stuttered in my chest. I stared at her, caught between hope and disbelief.
“I’ve always been yours,” she said, her smile widening, her tears spilling freely now. “ Yes .”
The world spun, and I surged to my feet, slipping the ring onto her finger before pulling her into my arms.
My heart felt like it was going to burst, an overwhelming surge of joy and disbelief crashing over me like a tidal wave.
As I kissed her, laughter escaped me—deep, raw, and unrestrained. God, when was the last time I’d laughed like this? It felt foreign, almost startling, but so damn right. Like something buried deep inside me had finally clawed its way to the surface after years of suffocating silence.
Her fingers curled into my hair, her breath warm and steady against my skin. I closed my eyes, letting the moment anchor itself deep inside me.
Ava had freed me— truly freed me.