27. Chapter Twenty-Seven
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
AZAZEL
T he cave floor meets my knees, the shock radiating up my bones, but it’s nothing compared to the hollowness tearing through me. My father’s words still echo, each syllable a blade slicing me open: She wanted this. Her choice. Her decision.
I stare at Morte, at her hand slipping into his like it belongs there, her eyes not even sparing me a glance. She looks right through me, as though I’m nothing but empty air. My heart squeezes until I swear it might implode.
She wanted this.
This is what I did to her—betrayed her, as though she meant nothing. The irony slams into me with cruel precision. I put her through this. I made her question her worth. And now, I’m the one left behind, staring at the hollow echo of what we were.
Her indifference scalds my insides.
The thought screams through me, clawing at the edges of my sanity before something inside me roars back in defiance. No. This isn’t her. It can’t be.
The Firefly I know would’ve burned this place to the ground before letting herself be led like some kind of sacrificial lamb. She’d never be so cruel for power, so fu? —
—And that’s when it clicks. The realization hits me like an anvil to the chest. I should’ve known, should’ve suspected something when just mere hours ago we were in bed together, worshipping each other.
I know her. I know every sharp edge and every quiet, vulnerable crack. The woman standing before me, slipping her hand into his, isn’t the same woman who fought beside me, who burned with a fire no one could extinguish. My father’s words were meant to poison me, to make me doubt her, but they fall flat, because the truth is clear in the way her shoulders barely shift, the way her chin tilts just a fraction higher than it needs to be.
She’s playing a part, and gods, she’s doing it well. Too well. For the ease with which she leans into him, the way her hand rests in his without hesitation. But the slight twitch in her jaw, the rigid set of her spine—it’s all there, a map of her resistance if you know where to look.
I force myself to breathe through the crushing weight of rage and fear, the need to act. She’s surrounded by monsters, but she’s doing this to protect us. To protect me. And knowing that rips me apart.
But then her eyes flit my way, the briefest of glances, and I swear I see it—the fire she’s hiding, the plan she hasn’t yet revealed.
The words spiral, taunting, turning everything I thought I knew into ashes. I watch her lay back on the bed with him, King Ollin Valtorious, my father, the monster. She’s beside him. She’s smiling, soft, a mask that fits too perfectly, her eyes still void of any emotion when they should be blazing. They should be filled with the fire that has always been her, the passion, the rage, the love.
The love that has always been for me until I ripped it all away from her.
There is only one conceivable way Morte would ever willingly walk away from any of us.
If she were protecting us.
My entire body goes cold, the understanding sinking into every fiber, every pore. She’s not doing this because she wants to. She’s doing it because she thinks it’s the only way .
And I know, in this moment, what I have to do.
A breath shudders from my lips as I look at her, my Firefly. A fissure ruptures in me, fractures I know will never heal. “Morte!” My voice breaks, the word tearing from my throat like it’s made of shards of glass. She doesn’t look back. Not even a flicker of her eyes in my direction.
“I love you, Firefly, don’t you forget that!” I shout, louder now, the desperation strangling every word. “Every part of me—metal and fae—belongs to you!”
The rest of her mates stop their yelling to glance at me, eyes wild as they take me in.
I’m on my knees, arms splayed across each thigh. “She thinks there’s no other way,” I choke out, a haunting feeling taking residence inside me.
The guards move to block my view, but it doesn’t matter. I’ve seen what I needed to. I’ve seen the truth she’s trying to hide, and I know what must be done.
She can’t complete this ritual. She can’t mate with him while our bond remains. The bond between us—it’s the one thing that lends my father the power to use me as a conduit, the one thing that ties us all together. This bond, this fragile, beautiful thing that has kept me tethered to her all this time, it’s the only part of me that still feels alive. And if she goes through with this, he will use it to drain her—drain us all.
Hot tears blur my vision, the weight of what I’m about to do drowning me, but I can’t hesitate. I can’t let this happen. Not to her. Not to them.
Heat burn my cheeks, and my chest constricts with the unbearable truth of what I have to do. I close my eyes, the connection between us thrumming inside me, the bond we’ve shared since the day we first claimed each other during the Wild Pursuit. I feel her there—her essence, her light, her warmth. I reach for it, my heart aching, shattering, and I do the only thing I can.
Metal courses through my veins, but somewhere beneath the sanguimetal lies a sliver of fire, pulsing with heat. Our bond. It's always there, a living thread tying me to her. I follow it, searching deeper, feeling her warmth caressing me like an ember buried in ash.
The thread glows, her essence so heartbreakingly beautiful. It hums with her light, her strength, the warmth of her presence that has always been my salvation. My hands tremble, curling into fists as I force myself to reach for it within me.
"Forgive me," I whisper, my words coming out so impossibly, irrevocably broken.
I wrap my mind around the thread, the last living thing inside me, and pull. My knees buckle, and I collapse to the ground, choking on a scream as the fire dims, flickers—and goes out.
Agony rips through me, tearing me apart from the inside out, my primal scream reverberating throughout the chamber. The bond snaps, the sudden emptiness a black void, a chasm that can never be filled. My body collapses, convulsing as I feel the connection shatter, the absence of her like losing a limb, like losing my soul.
Perhaps I have.
I’ve just torn out the best part of myself—maybe the only good in me.
The bond shatters, leaving behind an emptiness so profound it feels like the universe itself has gone silent. For the first time since the Wild Pursuit, since the moment we claimed each other, I can’t feel her.
But I see it—that split second before darkness claims me—I see her terror steal over her eyes, the mask cracking, her head snapping towards me as if she’s just now realizing what I’ve done, even as the agony of it has her arching her back, raking her nails against her skin. Her scream tears through the haze, a raw sound that rattles my skull, though the meaning doesn’t register at first, her lips shaping my name. Then it happens. Her entire form ignites, flames erupting in violent waves. The fire consumes her, racing along her skin, blazing brighter with each second.
Ash spills into the air, spiraling around her like a storm of embers, until there’s nothing left but smoke and light. The world around me fades, and the last thing I hear is her scream, as though ripped from the last dredges of her spirit, my name echoing through the darkness.
“Az!”