29. Chuck the Investor #3
Chuck’s voice drifted in, warm with satisfaction. “Welcome to my Garden of Perpetual Regard. It’s everything you wanted, forever.”
Vex turned, wild-eyed, spinning in place as if looking for a face that might answer him. “Please, just let me explain—” Then he was gone.
The livestream chat detonated.
“What DA FUQ was THAT” . . .
“Bro, what if this is like the ring and we’re next.”
“ANYBODY SCREENSHOT THE EYES???
An assistant lunged for the controls, hands shaking, but it didn’t matter. The clip was already loose in the world, replicating faster than anyone could stop it.
Chuck dusted his hands together, looking neither pleased nor displeased. “There. All done.” He glanced over at Luna. “Oh good grief, humans are never satisfied.”
She was still on her knees, still crying, still holding that goddamn phone with the photo of Shaw’s burned tie.
“You witches have won, child. Your little magic is saved. What more do you want?”
She didn’t answer; she was too furious to speak.
Not at anyone specific. Just . . . furious that the world kept moving forward when Shaw was gone.
Furious that cosmic justice meant nothing when the person she loved was dead.
Furious that literally everyone around her got exactly what they wanted, and she was left alone.
The god tilted his head, studying the youngest Melrose with sudden interest. “I should think you’d be a little more impressed. But you don’t look especially awed, my dear.”
Oh fuck off, she thought. She gave Chuck a sarcastic slow clap. “Wow. Thanks to you, the world has one less egomaniac tech bro. Congratulations.”
“Shh, Luna!” Kelly squeezed her daughter’s shoulder, a gesture both protective and warning. “This is a god we’re dealing with.”
But Chuck just laughed. “Cheeky! But, you know, I do hate an unsatisfied audience. Can’t have that, can we? Hmm . . . All right, how about this. I’ve taken a human. Seems only fair I should give one back. Call it a trade.” He gazed at Luna directly. “But we’re even now, you and I. Understood?”
Luna didn’t answer. Didn’t nod. Just stared at him with those tear-streaked, furious eyes.
Reality hiccupped. The air three feet to Chuck’s left tore open like a wound in the world.
Shaw fell through it.
He dropped from standing height and hit the grass hard, ending up sprawled on his back and staring at the sky.
On his face was the expression of a man who’d just had a very confusing interaction with the laws of physics.
His suit was scorched. He was bleeding from a cut above his eyebrow. But he was very much alive.
Luna’s sob cut off mid-breath.
Shaw blinked several times, trying to process where he was, then appeared to give up the effort. Rolled his head to the side, saw Chuck sitting there looking enormously pleased with himself, and croaked: “Where in the hell am I?”
Then Shaw’s gaze found Luna. Tears on her face. Staring at him like he was a ghost.
His expression did something complicated: relief and regret and something that looked almost like fear. “Luna,” he said. His voice was wrecked, raw. “I’m sorry—”
Luna was already moving, and it was as if the space between them didn’t exist at all. She was just suddenly there, dropping down beside him, hands hovering over his scorched jacket like she was afraid he’d dissolve. “You idiot!” Her voice was shaking. “You stupid, reckless, absolute idiot—”
“Yeah,” Shaw agreed hoarsely. “That’s fair.”
“You could have died—”
“I know. I did try calling first.”
“I know.” Luna’s hands were still shaking, still not quite touching him. “I know. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I should have—”
“Don’t.” Shaw tried to sit up, winced, settled for propping himself on one elbow. “Don’t apologize. I earned that hang-up. I earned all of it.”
“Your tie,” Luna said, and her voice broke. “Your tie is gone.”
“It was about a hundred years out of style, anyway.” Shaw’s eyes never left hers. “You were in danger. What else was I supposed to do?”
“Not die!” The word came out somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “You were supposed to not die!”
“Well, I mean . . .” Shaw said, and his mouth curved into something that was almost a smile. “I think I managed that much. You wanna check?” He reached up . . . slowly, carefully, like he thought she might bolt, and touched her face.
His hand was burned. His fingers were shaking. But his touch was gentle, and his expression was doing that thing where he looked at her like she was the only miracle he’d ever believed in.
“Hi,” he said softly.
Luna made a sound that was half-laugh, half-sob. And kissed him.
The kiss was urgent, fierce, as if they’d been apart for decades instead of days.
Shaw’s uninjured hand slid around Luna’s waist, his grip possessive but tender.
His lips moved against hers, communicating what he couldn’t find the words for: I’m sorry, I want you, I need you, let’s never be apart.
Luna didn’t care about Vex’s destruction or magic’s salvation or that half the town was watching.
All she cared about was how perfect it felt to be with him again.