Roman #3
“Don’t you dare say goodbye,” I grit out as my jaw locks so hard it aches, and my hands press tighter over the wound like I can physically hold her here through sheer force. “Do you hear me, Fiona Longstaff? Don’t you dare say goodbye.”
A weak, breathless laugh slips out of her, cut short by a cough that tears through her chest. It sounds wet and wrong and it slices straight through me because I know it. I know that sound. I’ve caused that sound. I’ve stood over men and listened to it fade out of them.
Not her.
Please not her.
“Oh, don’t you be mad at me,” she murmurs. “I did what I wanted to do.”
My hands shake harder.
“What was that?” I demand, but it breaks apart under the weight of everything sitting in my chest.
“Save my beautiful son’s perfect family.”
“I—” My breath stutters, catching painfully as my vision blurs. “I can’t survive without you, Mum… please don’t do this. Just hold on. Help will come. I’ll fix this, I—”
“You can,” she cuts in softly as her hand lifts just enough to brush weakly against mine, trying to ground me, even now. “And you will… for your babies.”
Her lips curve into the faintest smile, like something peaceful is breaking through the pain, and beside me Fae lets out a sound that I never want to hear again. It echoes through the church, raw with grief and far too final.
“Sshh, sweet girl,” Mum whispers, in a barely there but gentle voice. “I get to be with my other babies now… and you get to be with yours.”
Her words hang in the air like something sacred and unbearable all at once, and I feel the exact moment her strength starts to slip properly. It’s not dramatic. It’s not sudden. It’s quieter than that. Her hand still rests weakly against mine but begins to lose its grip.
“Mum—” I choke, shaking my head hard as I press down harder on her stomach. “No. No, stay with me. Stay—”
Her eyes weakly find mine again, like it’s taking everything she has left just to keep them open, and the world narrows down to just that.
Just me and her, just the way she’s always looked at me; like I was someone worth loving.
Riggs drops beside her; his hand comes straight up to cup her face like he’s done a hundred times previously.
“No, no, Mumzy,” he breathes and his voice cracks in a way I’ve never heard before. His forehead almost knocks harshly against hers as he leans in. “You don’t get to do this, yeah? That’s not funny. Come on… come on, open your eyes properly, pretty lady.”
Her gaze flickers to him, and love passes through her expression. Victor kneels out of the corner of my eye and I hold my breath as we all crowd around her.
“Stay,” he says quietly, like it’s an order she should follow. “You’re not done.”
Her lips twitch faintly, like some part of her is still here with us, and then her eyes drift back to me.
“My boys…” she breathes, the words are fragile as they slip between us like quicksand. “Give my grandchild and Robyn a kiss from me.”
It happens in the smallest way. Her hand, still resting weakly against mine, loosens completely. The tension leaves her face, her chest stills, and there’s something final in it that my body recognises before my mind catches up.
And I break.
“No,” I gasp.
“No, no, no—”
I shake her. My hands come up to her face, trying to bring her back, trying to force something, anything, back into her.
“Mum, wake up,” I rasp, my voice tearing apart as I press my forehead to hers. “Don’t do this. Don’t—”
“She’s gone, Roman.”
Felix’s voice comes from just behind me, quieter than I’ve ever heard it, and I feel his hand settle on my shoulder. I rip away from it instantly as my head snaps back toward him.
“No, she’s not,” I snap. “She’s not gone, she’s… she’s right here, she’s—”
My voice collapses as Riggs lets out a broken wail beside me, his hand is still on her face and his thumb brushes over her cheek like he’s trying to wake her up gently, like he doesn’t understand why she isn’t responding.
“Mumzy…?” he whispers, “Oi… don’t do that. Don’t—”
He swallows hard, his shoulders shaking once before he bows his head, pressing it briefly against her temple as Felix crouches quietly near her side. He reaches out to adjust her slightly, so she’s not twisted against the marble.
“I’ll take care of them,” he says finally. “All of them. I promise.”
Atlas hovers for a second before lowering himself near her head, his usual composure is fractured just enough that I catch it. He reaches out, smoothing a strand of her hair back into place with a quiet kind of reverence.
“Thank you,” he whispers. “For everything.”
Fae howls beside me as her hands grip onto Mum whilst she refuses to let go. Her whole body shakes as she curls in closer and presses her face against her shoulder. She whispers something into her ear, but I don’t hear it.
I can’t hear anything over the sound of my own breathing falling apart.
I’m still staring at her face.
Waiting.
Waiting for something to move. For her chest to rise. For her eyes to open. For her to tell me I’m being dramatic, that I need to get a grip, that she’s still here.
But she doesn’t.
And the silence that settles over us is worse than anything I’ve ever known.