Cyrus’s eyes grew half-lidded. She couldn’t see the red glimmers of his power because of the fog, but his skin swelled with proof of it. "We cut them all down, and we get out of here. The city is being evacuated because of the earthquakes. The Academy is gone. We can go somewhere else."
"To my cottage." Auren’s chest rumbled beneath her. "We will be safe there. Once we leave this Nova Zone, I can try to portal again."
But wait… She stared at his scythe, discarded on the ground. It did not glow. "You cannot use it, Auren?"
He blew out a sharp breath, staring at the dull scythe with angered eyes. "No. I suspect it is the Nova in the area. Though I’ve never had such an issue before," he gritted out. "The Celestials are scheming against us." The words were low and bitter. She sensed there was more he wished to say—again.
"They always scheme," Vesperin murmured, feeling the Rogues’ footfalls pound in her heart, in her head. "There is a reason." There had to be.
She saw dark, hulking shapes through the fog. The ground trembled constantly now.
That was the thing about mortality. It made you believe you were impervious, until you were faced with death, and even then, you pretended it was not staring you in the eye, hands locked around your throat. That was what they all did. They pretended. That the sky was not falling. That the ground would sustain even against the worst of the shaking. That the end was not here.
Lucien was shaking his head. "It doesn’t matter. Oh god, it doesn’t?—"
Rhyden clapped him on the shoulder. "Snap the fuck out of it. If you can’t protect her, then go. Do something with that Stella of yours. I know you’re not entirely useless."
As the Rogues jumped out of the fog with fearsome roars, Rhyden, Cyrus, and Auren jolted into action.
It was seamless, the way they knew what to do.
Even Lucien, who had been scared, whose eyes were still wild, reached for Vesperin. Auren passed her off, his bare fingers skimming over her cheek, before he used his immortal, Celestial-given speed to swoop down and collect his scythe. It did not glow, but the blade was still sharp.
Rhyden’s arms were straight, aim true, as he fired shot after shot. The magazine dropped from the gun, and he reloaded so swiftly she could have blinked and missed it. She did nearly miss it, as Lucien’s arms wrapped around her and he tugged her back into her house.
She looked behind her, watching Cyrus hold out his hands, a wicked grin on his lips, as he twisted his fingers up, curlingtoward his palm, and a Rogue dropped dead at his feet. Blood oozed from the black, Soulless pits of its eyes.
As Lucien tugged her through the jagged frame of the door, she saw countless Rogues. Too many for them.
Her knees trembled.
And the glow beneath her skin burned brighter.
Inside her house, the halls seemed tighter than they had before. Or maybe the Stella in her veins and memories in her mind had grown too big in too short a time, making her seem larger.
Lucien forced her down on the dusty couch. There were old stains on it. He stood, pacing, and roughly put his glasses back on, staring down at her. Whatever he saw on her face, the listlessness, the pain, made his lips thin. He crouched before her, placing his large, comforting palms on her bare knees. The short hem of her cotton gown was stained and torn.
"Whatever happens, my V girl, know that I will always love you, and I am always, always going to do whatever it takes to protect you." He reached for her, his hand cupping the back of her head as he forced her eyes to his. Their noses brushed as he leaned closer toward her. "Whatever it takes, Vesperin. I want you to promise me something."
Her lips trembled. "What?" She felt herself slip into a different persona. One that cried tears of diamonds and spoke a different language. She felt the hard floor of a cage bite into her kneecaps, the fear of not knowing what awaited her.
Lucien’s forehead pressed against hers. "You will stay here, and you will not leave, no matter what," Lucien said. She started to shake her head, but couldn’t because of how his hand gripped her so tightly. "Promise me, Vesperin." His lips brushed hers. She felt something touch her ankles. "I do not wish to do this, but for you—if it means keeping you from the future that has haunted me—I will be the villain."
Something coiled around her ankles, then surged up her calves, twining around her waist. She was pinned to the couch, unable to move as vines kept her tied. They tightened around her belly, making her wheeze from the pain inside her—from what had been taken from her.
Her eyes were wide as she stared at him. "Lucien? Wait—no."
Lucien’s green eyes were dark and unmoved by the fear that made her voice waver. "If you hate me, so be it. I’d rather have your hatred than your blood on my hands, Vesperin." He kissed her so harshly their teeth clicked together. "I love you."
He stood then, and she struggled against the vines. It was no use.
She stared up at him, her head following him as he slowly backed away. Thorny vines shot from his back in large, twisting spirals, ripping his shirt into tatters. The material fell away, leaving him bare-chested and flushed with sweat. The thorns were so sharp and pointed, they were like needles.
"Lucien!" she called, her head throbbing with the word.
Vines curled over her neck, then stilled.
Pain drew his brows low over his eyes. "You must be quiet. You cannot draw attention to yourself. You have to stay here. You will be safe. I—we," he asserted, "will make it so."
