Page 237 of Breathe Like Hell

Micah carried the weight so well I never would’ve known. But everything I took from Mason, all the pain and anguish and instability, I felt in myself. A relentless heaviness I’d never have words to fully explain, a lingering darkness in the back of my mind, a weight like wearing wet clothes.

Every tear Micah had dried, every panic spiral he’d pulled me out of, every drop of sadness he’d taken from me; he’d been pouring all of it into himself alone. Carrying so much weight just so the people he loved wouldn’t have to.

I pushed further back on the cliff, head hanging off the edge, my stomach tightening with the shift in my balance. Micah wasn’t here to keep me from falling now. His body couldn’t hold me to the Earth anymore.

Wind ripped over me, tangling my hair, burying itself in my tired lungs.

The sky flashed with lightning, bright and fast, electric bolts shooting through the clouds. Any human who could see it would assume this was a thunderstorm. Only I knew it was an angel.

This was what it looked like to be Thrausian. This was why they all died.

Not because a moment could make them snap, not because they wanted to feel the rush of power on a whim, but because they couldn’t stop what was in their nature. Their destiny. It didn’t happen in an instant. It built on itself, growing larger and darker until it swallowed everything.

One fracture on his own was survivable. Two fractures were more difficult. Beyond that point, it was so easy to fracture, so easy to be pulled below the surface it was a miracle anyone ever made it out.

Unless there was a Sigeian to take the instability away.

That was me.

But I wasn’t lasting. I couldn’t last.

I wasn’t as strong as Micah.

I swore I could hear him screaming.

Raw sounds of agony. A voice being shredded.

I pushed back farther, feeling my balance shift on the edge of the cliff, bits of dirt crumbling away on either side of me.

Then I rolled over, tumbling right off the edge, wind ripping around my numb body. I swore my heart wasn’t beating at all anymore. It hadn’t, since the day he died. I stared at the rocks at the base of the cliff as they approached.

Micah couldn’t hold me and Mason couldn’t catch me.

Nobody was coming to save me now.

I had to save myself.

I contemplated not doing anything. Contemplated letting my body smash into the rocks, my bones shattering, my blood spilling, pain ripping through my veins but never killing me. Crimson on onyx, gold threaded through it all.

But I didn’t.

I gritted my teeth with the feeling of my wings tearing out of my back, sweeping me away from the ground, out over the ocean. As I kept low to the waves, saltwater mist stung my cold cheeks, my black feathers rippling sharply on the cold wind. I flapped my wings, soaring over the ocean, low and fast, warm tears dripping off my cheeks and into the frigid water, salt meeting salt.

I wished that Micah had fucked me up more, that he’d carved himself into my brain, shaped me into whatever he’d wanted, trapped me in a labyrinth I could never find my way out of because then at least I’d have some part of him left to hold onto.

All I had now were the wings coming out of my back.

And I didn’t fucking want them.

CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

MASON

Four Weeks After

Micah’s house was dark. I didn’t turn on any lights.

My feet carried me upstairs on autopilot, my soul craving some way of being close to him. I’ll never be close with him again. I’ll never be able to talk to him. I’ll never touch him again. For now, I would touch steel and pray that it got me close enough to keep from breaking tonight.