Chapter 30
DIANA
Istand at the foot of the attic stairs.
My body has gone somewhere else. Somewhere far away from this threshold, from this moment, from the thing I already know but cannot say out loud because saying it will make it real, and I am not ready for it to be real.
The bond is twisted far too greatly for it not to mean something catastrophic. Why does Judge somehow feel closer to me, like his energy is traveling through the bond?
My foot finds the first step. Then the second. My hand drags along the wall, as if I need it to stay upright. The climb feels like it takes years. Like the attic is moving away from me with every step I take toward it.
When I push the door open at the top, the paper swans are the first thing I see.
Hundreds of them. Every surface. Every corner. All of them were made by me, and since being in his space, I’ve discovered he has placed one on his desk.
The sound that comes out of me isn't human.
It tears out of my throat before I can stop it, low and broken, something that has never existed in me before this moment, something that only exists because he did.
It’s a grief tied solely to an omega mourning her alpha.
I press my hand over my mouth, but it doesn't help.
Nothing helps. The cry keeps coming, keeps climbing, and I let it because what else is there to do?
I know what’s wrong with the bed downstairs.
This is my nest.
The one I didn't understand when I made it, when something in me went instinctual and strange. I cross the room on legs that barely work and lower myself into it, and I pull every piece of it around me, finding the pillow he used to sleep on and pressing my face into the fabric and breathing.
He's still here. Just barely. A trace of him caught in the fabric, something warm and dark and unmistakably him, and it is the kindest and cruelest thing I have ever felt.
Because the tether inside of me is tearing apart, and I don’t need to ask anyone what that means to know…
"Please." The word comes out wrecked, barely a word at all. I say it to the windows I used to hate, the windows that felt like bars, that feel now like the only thing keeping me from dissolving into the sky. "Please don't leave me."
The bond pulses.
I feel it like a hand pressed flat against my sternum, like warmth moving through me that has no right to be warm, and I sob so hard my whole body shakes because I know—I know—what this is.
I know whose warmth this is. I know who is standing at whatever threshold exists between here and what comes after this life, and I know he chose to come here.
"I'm here," I choke out. "I'm here, I'm here, I'm right here—"
Like if I say it enough times, he'll stay. Like if I hold onto his warmth with both hands and press it against every part of me, he'll decide to live.
His energy fills the attic. Fills the nest. Fills me.
And then, so slowly I almost don't feel it happening, it begins to fade.
"No." I curl tighter, fingers twisted in the blankets, like I can hold the shape of him here even as the substance of him leaves. "No, no, no—"
But grief doesn't negotiate.
And eventually, the attic is just an attic again.
I am alone in a nest made for two. The paper swans hold their silence, and outside the windows, the snow keeps falling like nothing has ended.
Like everything hasn't.
Ihardly eat for a week.
Kitty eventually finds me a few hours later, like I’m a cat she thought she’d let get out. When she appears in the doorway and takes in the nest and me lying in it, she looks at me like a very close aunt, brows upturning and calling me sweetheart; I don’t think she knows Judge called me that.
I also don't think I've ever seen Kitty cry before, but I did then.
We don't talk about Judge. We don't say the word dead because I won't allow it in this room, not while the bond still exists in some formless, guttering way that I can't explain and don't want to examine too closely. It almost feels like he legitimately died, and yet his presence retracted, and the bond is still alive. There’s a massive, undeniable strain, but I swear he’s still on this planet with us.
No letters have come, either.
It isn't confirmed.
I repeat it to myself like scripture. It isn't confirmed. My mate. My mate is not confirmed dead. I am allowed to keep hoping. I am allowed to lie in this nest and press my face into the fabric and listen for any faint pulse of him through the bond and call that enough.
Kitty forces food into me, and I willingly drink the black petal tea.
I even ask for sedatives, and she gives them to me without judgment, which is its own kind of mercy. I sleep in long, dark stretches and wake up reaching for something that isn't there, only to painfully remember.
I don't know what day it is when I hear footsteps so rapid up the stairwell that I pop up like the place might be under fire. The door slams open so hard it bounces off the wall. "Diana."
My heart is already in my throat, disappointed it’s not Judge, wiping my unwashed hair back from my face with hands that won't stop shaking. "What?" I ask, severely aware of how much I need some protein in my system.
"A caravan is returning." She's breathing hard, eyes bright. "Medevacs with them. They’re ours, and those from your home.”
The word hits me like cold water. "Is Judge—"
"I don't know." Her jaw tightens, shaking her head. "No one will confirm or deny anything."
"Why?" The word comes out wrecked, almost a plea. “They have to fucking know.”
"If I had to guess?" She hesitates, like she's weighing what she's already said. "It's to keep Judge safe. They go radio silent when they don't want anyone knowing who's moving where. I can't confirm that, though, and neither can Beast, so he wants you in a Humvee."
I stare at her. "What?"
Her sigh mixes with a groan. “There's always a chance Titan is in that caravan too."
Ripples of confusion move through me, and I feel something shift, something that has been soft and devastated for six days beginning to harden at the edges.
"Doesn't Beast have birds for this? Why can’t he confirm anything?”
"They were sniped out during the battle.
" Her voice is flat, careful. “He sent out more, of course, but all he can see is the caravan heading home. It looks like our men in the cars, but Beast is worried about a possible reverse Trojan horse.” She steps closer, reaches up, and moves the hair out of my face. "We have to prepare for that."
That hardening edge solidifies, rising in me.
"Fuck that," I say. “If my mate is in that caravan—if he is in there and he dies today, then I die today, too. That's it. That's all there is to this.” I look around for my water, find it, and drink to help calm down my racing heart. "How far out?"
"Beast won't allow—"
"Beast can suck my dick." I set the cup down and start moving, looking for clothes, feeling my legs remember what they’re for, though they’re shaky from lack of nutrition. "Let me get dressed. Eat some food. I'm not running."
"Diana." Her voice goes serious in a way that stops me.
"You want the truth? If Titan is in that caravan, if he has Judge, and he's using him as bait, he will not just kill you.
He'll make Judge watch first. Probably have his men fucking rape you right in front of him.
That's who Titan is. That's what he does. "
I hold her gaze. "Then one of you shoot me if it comes to that,” I say simply. "Put me out of my misery." I turn back toward my clothes. "I am going to see Judge's face again. Today. One way or another. If we end in a tragedy, so then so fucking be it.”
When I glance back at her, there’s something in her expression I haven't seen directed at me before. Something that looks almost like pride.
It pulls me up higher out of the dark, and it’s then that I feel a sense of camaraderie.
The rest is a blur as I dress, brushing the week out of my hair, and forcing bread down a throat that doesn't want it. But underneath all of it, running like a current, like a thread pulled taut through the bond, ‘I am here, darling. I’m not going anywhere. If you suffer, then I do, too.’
Ihaven’t seen Beast this ruffled since encountering him. He’s not happy that I’m defying orders against my safety, but I’ve also dealt with countless assholes in my life, and being assertive over them for the sake of their health.
And this is for Judge.
We’re no longer at the castle, either. We’re in the city that’s attached to it, apparently called Rampart.
Where festivals are for the larger crowds.
Like a traditional castle. There’s a crowd gathering, like they’ve all heard a rumor and are waiting for any hint of news.
I stand behind a firm wall of many Dominion men, all with skull tattoos on their throats.
Then I see the first jeep, then a few Humvees, my body going rigid when I see the medevacs from home, the bulletproof cars outfitted for surgery inside. There’s one in particular that pulls directly out into the middle.
It even takes extra effort to back up.
Fuck. A show of some kind.
Kitty is standing next to me and grabs my hand as we both wait to see what kind of show we’re about to witness.
When the door opens, a man with a buzzed head and face, who looks exactly like Judge, exits.
Judge.
Oh my god.
I place my hand over my mouth as Kitty squeezes her grip on me. Then I hear his voice bellow out, a shudder escaping me as I see that he’s alive. One sleeve is torn nearly off. His hands are red to the wrist, knuckles split, veins standing out like cords pulled too tight.
“Titan is dead!” Judge reaches into the vehicle and drops a head onto the ground, placing a dirt-covered boot on it. The mouth is slack, eyes still open like they’re surprised this is how it ends, ugly ass pale hair all wiry and dirty.
Cheers rise up, and I jump a little from all the sudden noise around me, other alphas shouting with triumph. Even small women who are probably omegas cry out like warriors.