29. Luna
LUNA
Snow crunches fast behind me, though the steps are even, in perfect rhythm. Too perfect to be anyone but him.
“Luna—”
Sawyer’s voice is raw, carrying through the cold. My heart skips, but I don’t turn. I don’t want to see the look on his face or hear whatever he has to say. As much as I care for him, right now, he’s the last person I want to see.
His hand catches my arm, and he spins me before I can jerk away. He pulls me chest-to-chest with him and grips my arms so I won’t move. I could. I don’t know if he knows it, but I could break his hold in the time it takes him to blink.
“Don’t do this,” he pants with anxiety I know he has but hardly ever see.
“I know you’re stubborn, but you’re not stupid.
If you try fighting a battle you know you can’t win, you’ll never get a chance to kill Aurelius.
” He sucks in a sharp breath and continues like he’s trying to get all the useless words out before I can interrupt him. I won’t… Not this time.
“I have a plan.” He squeezes my arms. “You don’t need a ceremony to kill your father, and we don’t have time for poison.”
I frown but don’t interject, though what he’s saying is insulting. I just don’t have the heart to feel it now.
I’m not a coward. I’ll never live like a coward.
He looks behind him before bringing his manic eyes back to me. “When my island was dismantled, my enemies lit fire to my mansion to kill me. But I had a safe room, just like yours.”
Brows pinching, I nod for him to go on.
“Aurelius doesn’t know about your safe room, does he?”
“No,” I say, feigning interest.
“Then let’s lure him to the Keep.” Sawyer’s hold on my shoulders finally loosens as he nods up at the Keep. “We’ll throw shit out the window and say they’re documents that exonerate you.”
“The documents prove I’m guilty.”
Sawyer shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter; we just have to make a scene and plant doubt.
Your father will try to stop it, and once he’s inside, we set fire to the building.
We’ll go out the tunnel and head for the gap in the fence.
Your father will be dead, evidence will be destroyed, and your people will be free to do whatever they want. ”
I swear I don’t react, but Sawyer must not like what he sees anyway because the blue of his irises seems to squirm with panic. “Or we’ll find them someplace to go… We’ll go with them,” he says a bit more enthusiastically. “We’ll say the fire was an accident and—”
“Sawyer.” I gently pull from his grasp to cup his face. “It’s okay.”
His Adam’s apple bobs, and he inches even closer.
“I’m going to be fine.”
We promised each other we wouldn’t lie anymore, but…
“I already have a plan,” I assure him. I don’t know if it’s kindness or cruelty, but it falls effortlessly.
He deserves better.
“I saw plenty of people in the crowd at the square who looked unsure of my father’s words. I’m going to rally them at the ceremony… It’s going to be fine. But I need you to do something for me.”
“Anything.” He grabs my wrist with so much energy, it sinks my shoulders.
I hate myself for bringing him here.
For telling him how rotten he is for forcing a woman he claimed he loved into captivity when I’ve done the same.
I told him he could leave when I really wanted him to stay. I should’ve insisted on it. I should’ve pushed him out, seen what was best for him, and acted accordingly.
My selfishness ends today.
“I need you to leave.” My touch softens as I travel my fingers down his neck. “I’ve enjoyed our time together, but you don’t belong here. You’re not one of us.”
He huffs and seems to deflate. His hand whips toward the square. “You’re not one of them, Luna. You’re not the Shadow Sanctum’s leader, you’re a victim of it.”
Something flickers in his gaze that I don’t immediately recognize. Until his breath shakes and his grip tightens on my wrist.
Hope.
“I can give you a life.” His voice breaks low. “A full one. Anything you’ve ever read in a book. I’ll give you the ocean, the mountains, adventure and art, and people who understand who you are instead of judging you for science they don’t understand.”
He swallows. “Or we don’t have to be around people at all.
We could spend the rest of our lives on a beach somewhere, just you and me.
Or we’ll go off-grid in some forest if you don’t like the sand.
Or…” His mouth hangs open a moment while his eyes seem to dance, searching for the perfect location.
“Or fucking Siberia. Whatever you want.”
My lips lift into a sad smile while I stare at Sawyer's perfect face, marred by sleepless nights and bruises I caused.
“You hate the snow,” I whisper.
He sighs so hard, I feel the weight of it. The weight of his hope.
I wish I could tell him that nothing he’s saying matters. Not really.
I’ve always wanted to see the ocean. I’ve always wanted to climb higher mountains, see new wildlife, experience new climates, and climb new trees. But when I look at this man, I’m not tempted. They no longer matter.
It’s just him.
The only place in the world I want to be is at his side.
By the ocean or in a desert. In the comfort of trees or under the judgmental eyes of a crowded beach. In Heaven or in Hell.
As long as Sawyer is there, I would be happy.
That’s the part that hurts the most.
“I do hate the snow,” he laughs weakly, his eyes glassy. “But I love you.”
My throat clogs, and though I want to nod just to tell him I believe him, I force myself to still.
But I do believe him. Because he’s still standing here. Even when it could kill him, he’s standing here.
How foolish of me to fear I would be just another necklace around his neck.
I press a hand to his chest, not to push him away but to keep myself upright. The shell isn’t tucked inside his shirt like it usually is. It’s gone, a memory he’s laid to rest.
“My people need me,” I whisper. “Not just to kill my father but to protect their faith… I’m afraid you’re right.
The Shadow Sanctum’s time has come to an end, but my people will have to live on.
They’ll have to cope with reality the outside world won’t understand.
They’ll need to justify their choices for themselves, otherwise they’ll shatter beneath their own condemnation…
What they need most from me now is assurance that everything we’ve believed in has been sacred.
Maybe not to my father, but to me. To them.
How can I give that assurance without respecting our traditions? ”
His brows pull tight. “Your tradition of killing each other?”
My cheeks drop as my eyes roam his face. “I know you don’t understand, but this is my reality… If you really love me, you’ll leave. For your sake, for my sake, and for the children’s sake.”
His mouth opens, but there’s a pause as confusion gives way to realization. My meaning sinks in.
“My father isn’t going to leave survivors tonight,” I say. “Everyone who isn’t a ‘true believer’ will be slaughtered, just like the Nurturer. Even if Father dies, we can’t trust that Raven or Echo or someone won’t carry out his plan… Someone has to get them help.”
He looks off. I continue before he can find an argument.
“I need you to find Cinder at the Bastion. Let her loose before you leave. Then go with Angel. Call the police when you’re far enough away that it’s safe. Tell them the children are being poisoned and Aurelius is preparing a mass suicide.”
“Angel can go by himself.”
I shake my head. “He doesn’t know the forest like you do. We can’t trust that he’ll make it without being caught.”
“He’s smart, Luna. He can do it. I trust him.”
“But I don’t,” I snap, harsher than I mean to. It isn’t Sawyer’s judgment that upsets me. It’s his stubbornness. “And you’re being stupid. The FBI is looking for you too. Are you planning to wed me in handcuffs?”
His face pinches with pain as he breaks my gaze. No. That isn’t what he’s hoping for.
He’s hoping I’ll leave with him. But he must know I won’t.
“Promise me you’ll leave.”
His throat works as he swallows, but his eyes never leave mine. They’re sharp, wet at the edges, like a storm pressing against glass.
“You want me to promise that?” he asks, voice low and raw.
“Yes.”
A muscle jumps in his jaw. For a moment, I think he’ll shout. That he’ll grab me, drag me out of here by force. Or at least try.
But instead, he dips his head and drops his voice to a whisper. “Then tell me you love me.”
My chest caves.
My mind instantly snaps the words, but my mouth refuses to follow.
“Tell me.” His hand cups the back of my neck. It isn’t forceful, but it’s unyielding. His thumb presses at the base of my skull like he’s holding me together. “I need to hear it. Just once.”
Just once.
Just once so he’d know, fully, what he’s losing. Just once so he could have a taste of something he’s never before found.
It’s in me, clawing to get out. And I want to give it to him. I do.
But it would be selfish. It would only make what’s coming worse. It’d make it so much harder to leave.
It would haunt him in the dead of night for years to come, his obsessive thoughts spinning with ways out he didn’t take. All the outcomes he didn’t produce.
I know Sawyer. He will never accept that this is the only path. The only way.
And while I want to be selfish, I want to believe I’m the fullness to his empty heart, that I’m so much more than he’s ever had, that I’m the one soul who fits with his own…
I love him too much to be anything more than a necklace.
My hand touches my ring on impulse, the urge to live on with him tugging at my finger. But I still need it. I can’t even give him jewelry.
I press my lips together until they ache, then shake my head once.
“Luna…” His voice breaks on my name. His forehead dips toward mine, almost touching. “Please.”
The plea shatters me. But I can’t. I need him to let me go. I need him to be safe.
So I force the blade between us. “I told you,” I whisper, voice frayed but steady. “I’m not capable of love.”
He recoils like I’ve struck him. His hand drops away from my neck, his chest rising and falling fast.
The silence that follows is suffocating. It echoes in the high beams of the Keep and seeps into the stone walls. It feels like betrayal, and maybe it is. But it’s the only way I know how to protect him.
I step back before I lose my nerve. My boots click against concrete as I head for the stairs. Each step feels heavier than the last, but I manage. I head for the library, toward the secret room I swore I’d never enter again.
Sawyer’s pained face haunts me with every step.
At the shelf that doubles as a door, I pause with my hand pressed to the cool wood. My chest heaves, my throat raw, but I don’t look back. I can’t.
I push it open and slip inside, the smell of old paper and sage wrapping around me. My eyes land on the corkboard filled with evidence. Photos, notes, a newspaper clipping with Sawyer’s birth name etched in black ink.
I tear the paper from the board and reach for the matchbox on the metal cart, my hand shaking.
When I strike the match, a flame blooms orange and hungry.
I hold it to the clipping until the paper curls and blackens.
The flame creeps fast, licking across the clipping until it’s nothing but crumbling black. Sawyer’s words scratch at me while I watch it. I picture the mansion, the empire he built burning to the ground.
I let the article fall to the thin-carpeted floor. The embers glow orange before dying out, too weak to do damage.
I rip the other papers from the corkboard and throw them to the ground. The metal cart rattles as I kick it and shove it over, dousing the evidence of my love with chemicals.
After striking another match, I drop it onto the pile and watch the fire take hold.
It spreads quickly—pages curling, photographs warping, ink bleeding into smoke. The air sharpens with the bite of burning paper, the hiss and crackle filling the silence like applause.
I stand there and let it happen. Let the smoke sting my eyes; let the flames eat away every piece of him that someone could use. Every trace that could drag Sawyer down when this place finally collapses.
He’s free now, at least of this.
The secret room feels smaller as I back up. My heartbeat keeps time with the flames, steady, relentless.
It feels like I'm erasing myself.
Because what is Luna Blackwell without the Shadow Sanctum? Without Aurelius? Without the chains that have bound me since birth?
Maybe nothing. Maybe no one.
The fire eats louder now, catching on boxes, crawling up a shelf. Smoke billows thick, curling against the low ceiling. I grab the handle and pull the door closed behind me. The flames stay locked inside, hungry but contained, for now.
The hall outside is quiet. Too quiet. My pulse hammers in my ears as I slip through the shadows toward Father’s office.
When I reach the office door, I rest my palm flat against it. The wood is cool, the grain rough under my fingertips. For a second, I imagine Father bursting in. Sensing what I’m about to do.
But he’s too arrogant to consider it.
The handle creaks under my hand as I push it open. The office is dim, lit only by the weak glow of a single lamp. Papers are stacked neatly on the desk. Father’s meticulous order presses into every corner.
The phone sits there, black and heavy, a relic from another world.
I cross the room and sit in the leather chair. My knees tremble beneath the weight of what I’m about to do. I find the clock on the wall.
Thirty-nine minutes until the fight.
Thirty-nine minutes until the end of everything.
I fold my hands in my lap and wait.
When the minute hand finally clicks into place, only nine minutes before the ceremony, I reach for the phone and dial three digits.
The line rings once.
“Nine-one-one. What’s your emergency?”
I lift the receiver to my lips, my voice steady, calm. “I’d like to report a most terrible crime.”