Chapter Forty-Three
River’s POV
The heavy pounding in my head stills as I push myself upright, re-gathering the scattered pieces of my thoughts.
Everything aches.
My ribs, my skull, even the space behind my eyes. But I manage to stand. I dust myself off.
And the gem…
The gem twinkles back at me.
She did it.
She really did it.
And Gods, I want nothing more than to run to her—to celebrate, to hold her, to tell her how terrifying and brilliant she is. But I can’t.
Because he’s there.
He’s always there.
I watch them kiss, whispering soft things into each other’s mouths like the world hasn’t just ended and restarted around us. My stomach twists. It feels like they’re flaunting it—parading their love in front of me like a punishment.
She should’ve been mine.
If Asha had never met him, she would still be with me.
There were moments—tiny, fragile moments—when I believed she might return to me. When he had the serum in his veins, when he was a walking disaster, when his very existence endangered her.
But she didn’t leave him.
She never even faltered.
She gave up on us before we could ever become anything.
How is that fair?
Rage bubbles inside me, my skin crawling as shadows seep from my veins like black smoke.
Ryder’s energy. This damned twin bond.
The gem glints again, and my hand moves before I can think. My powers take hold, and suddenly, it’s in my palm. The cool stone glows against the warmth of my skin as if it’s alive.
If I turn to stone, at least it’ll hurt less than this.
Numbness.
That’s all I want.
No more emptiness.
No more yearning.
No more loving someone who never once chose me back.
The gem pulses warm and steady.
But I don’t turn to stone.
My skin stays soft.
My pulse stays mine.
My heart… is pure.
Because all I’ve ever wanted—truly wanted—is to be loved the way I love her.
Asha’s eyes find mine, two lighthouses in stormy waters, and my heart stutters painfully.
I’d be so much better to her. She just doesn’t know it yet.
“River… please… don’t!” she shouts, her voice cracking.
But it drifts like wind through me. I don’t stop. I can’t.
For once, I’m doing something for me.
“You were never going to choose me, were you?” I say quietly.
She doesn’t respond. Her lips part, but nothing comes out. Her eyes just plead with mine—soft and desperate, but too late.
Ryder lunges toward me, but he looks distant, blurred, like a figure moving underwater.
A voice echoes through my mind, ancient and clear:
‘What is it you wish to do with this power?’
“I want Asha,” I whisper. “I want them to forget each other. I want everyone to forget. For her to love me. I want… to be loved by her.”
Power blooms in my chest like a supernova—heat, light, energy so potent it almost knocks me to my knees.
The voice hums, warm as sunlight:
‘To be loved is but the purest intention of them all.’
And the power consumes me.