Chapter 41
Sean
The dressing room smells like powder, perfume, and faint nerves. Aro sits across from me on a velvet settee, hands clasped too tightly in her lap, jaw locked like she’s bracing for war.
“I hate this dress,” she mutters.
I glance up. “You look stunning.”
She snorts, but a flicker of warmth glows in her eyes. “Yeah, well. Doesn’t exactly come with Kevlar.”
I smirk. “You planning on getting shot today?”
“God, I hope not.”
We lapse into silence. Outside, muffled strings swell as the ceremony music cues up. I check the clock. Five minutes until showtime. Still no sign of Joe.
She leans forward, elbows on her knees, face in her hands. It guts me a little, seeing how small she looks when she lets the armor slip.
I lean in, careful. “Hey.”
She lifts her head.
“I won’t let anything happen to you.”
She doesn’t say I know. Doesn’t offer something easy or hollow. She just stares at me for a second before whispering, “I’m scared, Sean.”
And there it is. The raw center. The piece of her most people never get to see.
I reach over, brushing a loose curl behind her ear. “You’re allowed to be scared. But you’re not alone.”
Her eyes search mine, like she’s trying to decide whether or not to believe me. Then, without a word, she leans forward and presses her forehead to mine.
The silence stretches. I cup her cheek, thumb tracing light circles.
“You wanna talk about it?” I ask, voice low.
She leans back a fraction. “Talk about what?”
I don’t answer. Just wait.
She sighs through her nose. “If you’re about to ask how I feel about Johnny marrying her… don’t.”
I nod. “Okay.”
Another beat passes.
“I mean, it’s not like I didn’t know,” she says. “He told me. We all knew. I just didn’t think he’d actually go through with it.”
Neither did I.
She lets out a dry laugh. “Guess I’m easier to walk away from than I thought.”
“That’s not true.”
She meets my gaze. Not angry. Not bitter. Just tired. Worn thin at the edges.
“You know what’s funny?” she says. “He told me it didn’t mean anything. That it was all for the plan. And I believed him. I still want to believe him. But believing doesn’t stop the ache.”
Her voice catches on that last word.
“I don’t need him to choose me,” she whispers. “I just… I need to not always be the girl he sacrifices.”
I cross the room and kneel in front of her, taking her hands in mine.
“You’re not that girl,” I say. “Not to him. Not to me. Not to any of us.”
Her lips part like she wants to argue, but instead, she leans in and kisses me. Soft and slow. Full of warmth. A promise sealed without words.
When she pulls back, her voice is barely a breath.
“I need this to be over.”
“It will be,” I promise. “Soon.”
CRACK.
The lights cut out.
The music dies.
Darkness swallows the room whole.
BANG.
A gunshot tears through the air. Pain explodes in my side, hot and fast, like a lit match dragged across my ribs. I hit the floor before I even register I’ve been shot.
“Aro—” I gasp, but the word is broken. Wet.
Then, glass shatters. A figure crashes through the window behind her.
Joe.
She doesn’t even have time to scream.
He’s fast. Too fast. One arm locks around her waist, the other shoving something—chloroform?—against her mouth.
She thrashes. Fights. But it’s over in seconds.
I try to move. Try to crawl to her. Try to do something. Anything. But the room spins and my limbs won’t cooperate.
Blood pools in my mouth. My vision darkens at the edges.
“No,” I rasp. “No—don’t.”
The last thing I see is Aro’s body, limp in his arms, disappearing through the broken window.
And then darkness takes me, too.