Page 173 of Devoured

And we are finally free.

Before I realize what I’m doing, I’m flying at her. Racing for her. Tackling her to the floor with a ferocious hug. I bury my face in her hair, dampening her shirt with fresh tears.

“For the love of the universe,” she hisses. “You’re going to ruin my hair, Hart.”

But she hugs me back. She hugs me just as tightly.

“We did it,” I say, my heart swelling with affection.

She laughs at that, and it sounds as if her chest breaks open with the sound. She hugs me even tighter, wrapping her legs around mine, twining us together. “Yeah, we did. I can’t believe you ever doubted us.” She pokes me just beneath my ribs, and when I flinch and move to slap her hand, she laughs harder. She twists us so that I’m beneath her. Her feet kick against mine as she shakes me.

She’s like a child now. Gleeful for the first time since I’ve known her.

Throwing her head back, she cackles. The sound reverberates off the walls; it rattles the floorboards. It burrows in my chest.

“We survived,” she says, throwing a punch against my arm. “We survived.”

I love her so much in this moment that my body aches. All the scheming and reconnaissance, the lying and sneaking around, has somehow paid off. Evie was the only person, inside this castle and outside it, who was brave enough to go up against Cora. Who watched the massacre unfold and witnessed Cora tormenting this place and still wanted to fight her.

No one else on Earth could have pulled this off but Evelyn Lee.

The Wolf Queen of the Asian Court.

My gaze falls to the designer suitcase beside my head, packed to near bursting, and the initials carved into the leather. I’m not surprised to see it. I’m only surprised it’s happening this quickly. “You’re leaving.”

I sit up, and Evie runs her hands over her slicked-back hair. “I’m on the first flight out of this place. It’s going to be twenty-four hours of misery in a metal death tube, but I’m finally going home.” Her eyes glisten, and she grins. The softest expression I’ve ever seen her wear. In it, I see hints of Nettie. The way she hangs her chin, the way her lips curl to the side, even the gentle way she speaks. “I can barely remember what Castle Lee looks like. It’s been so long.”

“You’re excited?” I ask, because I know there will be ghosts waiting for her there. Not real ghosts, but reminders of her family and the life she lost. “Are you going to be okay?”

“Yes. I think so.” She licks her lips, nearly buzzing with anticipation. “I mean, I wouldn’t ever tell a therapist that murder might have solved most of my problems. But Cora needed to die, and I’m happy she did. I don’t feel any remorse for her.” Her gaze slides toward Sin’s bed. His rumpled sheets. “Do you think that’s… bad? Do you feel guilty?”

“No,” I admit. “Not about Cora’s death. I feel bad for the girl she was, but not for the woman she became.”

Evie nods, still staring at Sin’s bed as if he’s hiding beneath it. “I’m sorry about Sin. I know, at the end, he was changing—”

My heart pangs. “It’s okay, Evie. You can feel however you’d like about Sin. You don’t have to be nice for me.”

She traipses toward his desk and runs her fingers along the wood. “I knew him when he was a boy. I knew him when he was defending Calix in the halls. I knew him when he was offering to split his lunch with Nettie. I knew most of the parts of Sinclair Severi, and a few weren’t terrible.” She sighs heavily. “Golden prince.”

“He hated that nickname,” I say.

“I would too if I had all that pressure on my shoulders.” And then she snorts, as if she can’t believe she’s giving him even a little benefit of the doubt. “What an asshole.” She plucks up the charcoal drawing of me, and her eyes flick to mine. “I’m sorry, Vanessa. You shouldn’t have had to lose anyone else.”

“It’s okay,” I whisper. “I think I’m going to be okay too.”

“Oh? You’ve got grand plans that I don’t know about?” She carefully sets the sketch back on the desk before wandering back toward me. “Let me guess: You’re going to follow that brooding asshole around Castle Severi now.”

I glare at her.

“What? Am I wrong?” She flutters her lashes innocently, and I contemplate launching her ginormous suitcase at her head.

“Calix is leaving, actually. He’s going to join a lesser pack elsewhere.”

“Really?” She arches a perfectly manicured brow. “Wow. Good for him, I suppose.”

“Yes.” And it is. It’s good for both of us. Time and space to clear our heads. To become who we need to become.

“So what the hell are you going to do?”