Page 131 of Hunt Me

The night went unnaturally still. The tree branches stopped swaying, the howling winds died down, the rustling of woodland creatures ceased, and the light of the fireflies faded into darkness.

Carefully, he lowered her into the grave. She looked as though she were only sleeping, but he knew better. He reached down one last time and wiped away his tears that splashed onto her face. He inhaled sharply and steadied himself before climbing out.

On hands and knees, he shoved dirt over her body.

“Matilda,” he choked. “I’m right here. I’m not leaving you.”

The soil dropped around her, covering her legs, torso, and arms. Only her face remained visible—perfectly serene, peaceful, and heartbreakingly still.

Dirt brushed her chin, lips, nose, eyes, and then… she was gone.

When he finished, Luka’s chest felt as if a boulder was pressed against it. He collapsed, pressing his forehead into the earth. His fingers clawed at the dirt that dampened with his tears. A tortured wail ripped from him so loud and feral that he was certain his enemies in Moonshire heard.

Hours passed, and he remained sprawled on top of her grave, hands buried in the fresh earth, shoulders shaking with silent, violent grief.

He didn’t feel the hours that passed. The only thing he felt was the hollow ache in his heart where his love for Matilda was etched into the chamber walls of his heart.

Footsteps approached. They were soft, careful, and respectful. He knew it was Ezra before he picked up on Denalia’s intoxicating newborn scent.

“Luka,” Ezra said quietly, cradling the sleeping infant to his chest. He stepped closer when the king didn’t look up, stopping just behind him. “The sun will rise soon.”

Ezra tried again when Luka failed to respond. “You cannot be out here when it does,” he said more firmly.

“She’s gone,” Luka whispered, voice muffled against the ground.

“She is not. Her soul is in another realm. She is probably stealing ethereal garlic rolls as we speak.”

Luka snorted, rolled onto his back, and laced his fingers on his abdomen. His eyes were red-rimmed and unfocused as he searched the remaining constellations in the sky.

“There is much to do before Matilda returns.”

“I am aware, Ezra. Just give me a moment.”

“If I give you a moment, you’ll ask for a lifetime.”

Ezra shifted Denalia in his arms, lowering her slightly so Luka could see her face.

“She needs you, my King.”

Luka’s expression twisted. He felt pain, longing, guilt, and shame all tangled together.

“The pain I feel now…” He swallowed hard. “It is nothing compared to what I felt when Anastasia died. I thought I was suffering. The grief nearly destroyed me.”

Ezra nodded and continued listening without interrupting.

“But this?” Luka said, voice cracking. “This is worse. This is torment. This is madness. This is worse because this time I chose it. I murdered her, Ezra. She trusted me. She trusted me while she held our baby, and I ended her life. I put her in the ground and sealed her away. And now, I must wait—hours, days, months, perhaps years without knowing if she will rise again.”

His hands curled into fists.

“This world has nothing for me if she’s not in it.”

Ezra stepped closer. “That is not true,” he said, lowering his voice. “Denalia is your world until Matilda returns. She is your purpose… your blood… the future of Night Falls. If you fall apart now, you leave her with nothing. And Matilda would never forgive you for that.”

Luka stared at the little sleeping face, and something inside him shifted. It was a reckoning—painful and reluctant—but a reckoning all the same.

“Take her,” Ezra said, extending Denalia toward her father.

Luka hesitated before pulling himself to his feet. He reached out with trembling hands, and when Denalia settled against his chest, the coldness he had felt melted away when her warmth seeped into him.