Page 56 of All Saints Day (Lucifer and the Saints #2)

Frank

I ’m on the ocean—the air crisp, the water glittering in the evening sunset, the sound of the surf and seabirds all around me.

I’m not just anywhere; I’m at the Penny’s summer cottage, sitting out on the large crag of rock that juts into the glimmering, dark water.

Without looking, I know that he’s beside me—knees tucked up toward his chest, arms folded over the top, his chin balanced on his forearm—as he gazes out over the waves.

“You did it. You actually did it,” he breathes, somewhat incredulously.

I blink away my tears, reaching out to run one of my hands through his dark brown hair, to smooth a thumb over one of his brows.

“Yeah—somehow I managed it,” I sniffle back an outright sob.

“Now you can finally begin to move forward,” Mike sighs, unfolding his legs—turning himself to face me on the narrow stretch of rock.

“But what about the others?” I turn down the beach to hazard a cautious glance at them; other reflections of myself. Francis, the wounded child, Rook, the dangerous sadist.

“Your pack is committed to you, Frank. All of you,” Mike counters me, reaching out to cup my face in his hand. “Look again.”

When I dart another glance back over my shoulder, Louise and Caz are playing with young Francis at the water’s edge—shouting and laughing and splashing in the waves.

Just beyond them, Sébastien and Quentin appear to be having a butterfly knife twirling contest with Rook—keeping him a conspicuously large distance away from Louise.

“But what if I fuck it up?” I manage to choke out, my voice evaporating as the horrible thought grips me.

“Frank—you’re going to fuck things up. All of you are.

The point is to be accountable, not to just disappear into Rook or to go on a fucking bender to hide yourself from the pain if you do.

All of you are connected now—even if I'm lost,” Mike croons, glowing gold in the setting sun, fading at the edges.

“But you can’t go, you can’t leave me—I know that I have my pack, but that doesn’t mean I don’t need you,” I sob, trying to will him to stay with me.

“Frank, I’ll always be a part of you—of all my fated mates.

But now it’s time for you to focus on the living—to focus on living .

I love you. This isn’t goodbye—just until next time ,” he soothes, little bits of him dancing away into the falling night like tiny shimmering particles of starlight or fireflies.

“Easy come, easy go.” I send him on his way as the glittering bits of light dance off into the night sky—the waves still breaking softly on the shore as my pack closes around me—their embrace bringing me back into the waking world, to our lives together.