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Each of the guys has been just as broken up, not ready for this to be goodbye, but in a little under nine hours, Zade is going to take my hand and lead me into his private elevator, taking me away from them for the final time. He’s going to drive me out to Empire’s sacred tomb, and just like that, the start of the end will be here.
I spent a good chunk of yesterday memorizing what’s going to happen during the ritual, but right now, I can’t seem to remember a single thing. All I can think about is how easy it would be to just throw myself off this roof and end it all now, end it before the pain, before the fear and the heart-shattering goodbyes.
How am I supposed to just get in that elevator without them? How am I supposed to walk to my death without Dalton’s hand in mine, without Easton’s sweet, murmured words or Sawyer’s bright green eyes making me feel like the strongest woman in the world? But more so, how am I supposed to meet Zade’s eyes as he plunges the dagger into my chest and pries it open?
I’ve been up here alone for an hour, the boys checking on me every now and then, and in all honesty, the only reason I think Zade has allowed this is because maybe he’s hoping I do jump. That I take myself out of the equation and save him from having to do it himself, save him from a lifetime of despair and guilt, knowing exactly what he gave up for the crown.
The tears fall down my face, and as the moon becomes more prominent in the night sky, I find it harder to look at and have to tear my gaze away. I’ve looked at that same moon a million times before, but tonight, it symbolizes a future I will never have, a life, love, a family of my own. So many things I’ll never get to experience, so many things I’ll have to go without.
The tears become too much, and I collapse into a ball on the ground, my face buried in my hands. My eyes are puffy and sore, red-rimmed from a day of tears, yet despite all the time I’ve already spent crying, I just can’t stop myself.
Wiping my sore eyes on the back of my sleeve, I try to pull myself together, and realizing it’s not going to happen, I clamber to my feet and turn away from the moon, unable to look at it a second longer. Then moving away from the edge of the roof and taking the idea of jumping off the table, I head back to the elevator and make my way down to the boys, needing their undeniable comfort.
I stop by the bathroom and splash cold water over my face, needing another moment to myself before finally finding the courage to face them, but they’re not here, at least not where I can see them. The balcony is empty, and only Cara sits in the living room beneath a blanket, her knees pulled up against her chest and her arms wrapped tightly around them. Thoughts of tonight rest heavily on her shoulders too. Hell, if I were in her position, I’d feel sick to my stomach. The things she’s going to have to witness tonight will forever change her.
She doesn’t look up, her gaze locked out the big window, but I don’t really think she’s seeing any of it, and not wanting to disturb her and send her into another round of tears, I slip through the kitchen and out the other end before finally hearing the subtle murmurs of a whispered conversation.
Following the sound to the den, I find the guys on the couch, Dalton and Sawyer to the right of the room with Easton and Zade to the left. The second I appear in the doorway, their conversation falls away, and I force a smile to my lips, trying not to let on how fucking terrified I really am.
Judging by the sudden halt in the conversation and the tension in the air, it’s clear they were discussing the ritual and don’t want to set me off. “It’s okay,” I tell them, striding into the room and settling on the couch between Dalton and Sawyer, snuggling into Dalton’s side and clutching his arm like it’s my only lifeline. “I’m a big girl. You don’t need to stop talking on account of me.”
“Yeah, we do,” Easton says, adamant in his tone. “Today is already hard enough. We don’t need to be making it any worse for you.”
My bottom lip wobbles, feeling myself about to break, but I manage to hold onto control.
“How are you feeling?” Dalton asks, his fingers caressing my cheek as my gaze slowly circles the room, taking in each of the guys, committing their features to memory in case I somehow get to take that with me into the afterlife . . . or whatever comes next.
