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“Gunnar.”
He frowns. “He was with you?”
“Yeah, but he smelled Luka on me and he…” I pause, shaking my head. “He lost it. Just made a run for it.”
Oberon squeezes my shoulder. “You’ll make this right. You always do.”
I wince.
I’m not sure if that’s true.
But still, we move forward together, stepping over rubble and past the raw, unfiltered rage of retribution unfolding before us. This is New Eden, scorched and reborn from the ashes. This is the world we’re left with.
A Garden to be grown anew, maybe.
A shout cuts through the chaos, slicing the distance between us. “Aisling!”
I whip around to see Lark pushing through a crowd of weary victors, a man I vaguely recognize on her heels, Vance trailing behind. Lark’s eyes are wild, hair plastered to her forehead with sweat or blood—I can’t tell which—but I don’t care as I run to meet her halfway, grabbing her in a fierce hug.
“Lark!” I breathe. “God, I’m so glad you’re okay.”
“Thanks to you,” she says, pulling back and gripping me by the shoulders. “Aisling…we were so lost before you came back, and now…”
She gestures around as if I didn’t make this place into a living hell.
“The omegas and betas here are free, Aisling,” she whispers. “You did that.”
It should feel better than it does, but all I can think about is Gunnar.
“What now?” the man with her says, looking between us. “We…”
“I’m sorry, who are you?” I ask. “Not to be rude, but—“
“Isaiah,” he says with a sheepish smile. “I’m Lark’s…well, I guess her accidental mate? It’s a bit weird.”
Luka’s bite sears on my neck. “No…I get it. But unfortunately, I don’t have an answer for you; I have no idea what comes next.”
Vance approaches us, blue eyes filled with a mixture of relief and exhaustion. “I’ve got an idea.”
I raise my eyebrows at him.
“Your people stay here with some of mine for security,” Vance says. Turn it back into what you said it used to be…the Garden, right? Protected by Angels.”
Isaiah looks around at the destruction surrounding us. “It won’t be easy,” he says, his gaze meeting mine. “But we’ll do it together.”
Lark smiles at him, squeezing his hand. “That’s right,” she says. “We’re a family now, the three of us…and the girls, of course.”
“The girls?” Isaiah says, eyes wide.
“Yeah,” Lark says. “You ready to get grilled by three extremely opinionated omegas?”
I laugh, but a pang of guilt shoots through me at her words, knowing the rift that lies between Gunnar and me. “And us?” I ask, looking at Vance.
“You should stay with them,” he says.
I look at Lark, her eyes filled with hope. I could stay, rebuild—me and Oberon, maybe Luka.
But I can’t just abandon Gunnar.
