Page 53

Amaia

I shot up from the couch, pistol in hand, before my brain had time to catch up to the sound. The knock on the door had been unexpected. Then again, so was my little nap.

Exhaustion didn’t begin to cover how I felt. Coming back from Royal Oaks should have been like riding a high. Instead, we’d spent the entire trip obsessing over what would happen to Reina.

There were a plethora of questions and no answers for any of them. None we could focus on getting with the time we had left, at least. I relaxed, realizing that I was home. I was safe. Whoever was at my door was not here to hurt me.

The simulations had ended two weeks ago, giving everyone time to return home, check on their people, and prepare for whatever came next.

And for now, the rest of my family was safe. Or they had been before I’d apparently crashed on the couch last night and slept well into the morning—if the sun’s creeping position was anything to go by.

Reina was healthy. She was determined to end this war. Her refusal to dwell on what had happened should’ve comforted me. Instead, it gnawed at the edge of my mind, because it mirrored my own focus. We’d stopped asking why . Now it was only about how .

How to finish this.

How to make Ronan pay.

How to survive long enough to see it through.

We couldn’t make a weapon out of this new development—not without hurting our own. Thus, the only response was to focus on how to kill them all. Knowing the why behind how the Pansies were now communicating had become irrelevant too. Our focus was demanded elsewhere.

The soft taps on the door persisted, breaking through the quiet of our quarters. I glanced at the clock. Late morning. The sunlight poured through the curtains, making me squint. I’d slept too long. Another mistake. I stretched, my muscles protesting after a night spent on the couch. Pain stabbed my lower back, and I winced. I’d slept in worse conditions. Alexiares and Elie must’ve been out doing their own thing. Where Alexiares found the energy, I wasn’t sure. Lucky him.

“Okay, okay,” I grumbled, swinging the door open. “This better be?—”

The words died in my throat.

God, she was beautiful, even with the deep, black circles of grief under her eyes. Luna stood there, her peppery hair framed a face carved from stone. The kind of face that pierced through you and found every crack you were trying to hide. Her bronze skin gleamed in the midday sun, and for a moment, I hated her for it—for the life and strength she carried, even under the weight of all the loss.

The pitter-patter of my heart became thunderous with anxiety. “Is everyone okay?”

“Yes,” Luna pushed her way into the door as if she owned the place, which, in some way, she used to. She wrinkled her nose. “You smell. When’s the last time you bathed? Had a meal that wasn’t cornbread.”

“I fell asleep on the couch before I had the chance,” I grumbled, lowering my nose to my shoulder and embarrassingly agreeing with her assessment. A crumb of cornbread fell off my lip. Okay, points were made .

“Oh, sweet girl,” Luna turned back in concern. “If there was any time to take care of yourself, it’s now.”

I closed the door behind me with a dramatic swat and kicked my way back to the couch, collapsing into it. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She didn’t answer right away. Her focus lingered on me as she sat down, close enough that I could feel the warmth of her. When one parent goes down, another’s ready to lecture at the ready . Oh. That’s a real dark thought, girl. I cringed, clearing my throat and fixing myself to grant me a good view of her face.

“You set off for war in a matter of days. War . Now, I don’t have to tell you how ugly that gets. You remember it well enough.” Luna waved her hand nonchalantly as she spoke.

Always so … alive . Like Prescott had been—just in a different way.

Of course, I remembered what it was like. All too fucking well. But that’s why I was here—to end it. One final battle. One that would silence any other opportunists motivated enough to strike. To make Ronan pay for everything he’d taken. For Jax. For Prescott. For Seth. For Reina’s soul. For everyone who’d been swallowed up by his ambition and greed disguised as the desire to do good .

“I’m fine,” I said, knowing it was a lie. Knowing she wouldn’t buy that shit. Not for a moment.

Luna’s hand rested on my knee and grabbed my attention, forcing me to look her in the eye—to see the sincerity behind her words. Her touch grounded me, though I hated how much I needed it. “The best thing you can do right now is show your body and mind the same love you’ve poured into this world. You’ve sacrificed a lot, but you can’t fight for anyone if there’s nothing left of you to give. Before you go out there and risk it all, promise me one thing?”

“You know we don’t make promises we can’t keep, Luna. Don’t do that. Please.” I pleaded, already feeling trapped by whatever she was about to ask.

“No, no. This one’s simple,” she said gently. “Nothing you can’t uphold unless you choose not to. I would not be surprised, by the way. You’re stubborn, just like Pres?—”

The room stilled.

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly.

“Don’t be, Lu. Seriously, it’s fine,” I said, though the tremble in my voice betrayed me. “What’s the promise?”

“Stay true to yourself. Wars don’t just claim lives—they take pieces of you, carve away at your soul, little by little, until you forget who you were fighting for in the first place. I know you, Sweet Girl. Prescott knew you. The woman he was proud to call his, to call his family. That woman has something worth protecting, and that’s what Ronan fears the most.

“Don’t let fire meet fire. All it does is leave behind ash. War is inevitable and it will rage around you, but you don’t have to let it consume you. Survive, not by burning brighter, but by refusing to be burned at all.”

I stiffened. Her words hit too close to the truth. I’d been lost, focused on vengeance, on proving myself as general, that I hadn’t stopped to think about what I was losing in the process. My humanity? Maybe. But it didn’t matter. What mattered was winning. What mattered was making Ronan reap what he’d sown.

Luna didn’t know. Couldn’t know how far I’d already gone, how much of myself I’d already burned away in my obsession to see this through. The only person that knew how far I was willing to go to protect what I loved was me. And by the time they all figured it out, it would simply be too late.

She didn’t understand, and she didn’t need to. Luna wasn’t carrying the weight of a million lives on her shoulders. She hadn’t been forced to step into Prescott’s shoes when he’d died and left me to clean up the mess. No. She volunteered. She had not been forced or had expectations thrust upon her. She, like most of the people here, had the option of sacrificing their souls within a level of comfortability. No one expected anyone to do anything , except me.

But that wasn’t fair.

Luna had lost everything. She’d lost Prescott—the love of her life. Her grief didn’t resemble mine; it was sharper, heavier. Yet she bore it differently. Silently. She possessed the gift of a quiet strength that was almost unbearable to witness.

I hadn’t let myself be angry—not at Prescott. But it simmered beneath the surface, threatening to boil over, an ache I’d buried so deep it had grown roots.

He’d left me. Prescott fucking left me. This was his place. Jax’s place. Not mine. This had never been my fucking dream. It was theirs. This was all fucking theirs …

And here I was.

Alive.

Alone.

And left with the weight of making sure this place stood even though they did not.

Then the guilt hit. None of this was their choice, either. If they could be here—they would be. And if either of them had this power, were in my position, then they wouldn’t be victimizing their losses, they’d weaponize them. Use it to fuel them to set the world right once more.

The thing was, I didn’t know how. I was lost without them. Jax had always seen the good in me, encouraged it, fed that hopeful version of myself. And Prescott … he had been everything I was not. Wise. Strong. A natural born leader—an ambitious one with dreams he refused to limit. He always knew what to do, and I followed with my own judgment in mind. Now it was all up to me.

Amaia Bennett. The twenty-eight-year-old woman who was on the cusp of losing her damn mind. All without a drink. Ha.

“I’ll try,” I said finally, the words heavy in my mouth.

She gave me a small, knowing smile and pulled a red leather book from her pack.

“This is for you.”

I blinked, picking it up and flipping it open. Recognition struck like a punch—I knew that handwriting.

“Luna, what is this?” My voice cracked.

“It’s Prescott’s,” she said softly. “This is for you, and you alone.”

I flipped through the pages, my vision blurring. He’d written to me every day since we’d decided to make Monterey a home. Every single day.

“There’s more.” Luna pulled out another stack of journals from her pack.

I searched for the newest one, my hands trembling with such violence that I could barely turn the pages. When I finally found it—his final entry—something inside me broke. Tears blurred my vision, spilling freely down my face as I traced the date with my fingertips.

The day he died.

A choked sob escaped before I could stop it. His love crashing over me like a tidal wave. I pressed the journal to my chest and clutched it tight as though I were offering him one last hug. A redo of the one I’d given him the morning I’d set off for Duluth. If I could go back in time, I’d hold on tighter, for a half a second longer.

The capacity to hold it all together no longer existed. I broke. Not silently. Not loudly. But simple, unrelenting grief that broke me as I clung to the pieces of us that I thought I’d lost forever—though I’d never known to search in the first place.

“Thank you,” I whispered, my voice barely audible as I turned toward Luna and leaned into her.

“Now,” Luna said softly but firmly, her hand rubbing my arm before she pulled back. “No more tears. Now that I have you, let’s talk shop so we’re all ready for your temporary absence.”

“Ma’am, yes, ma’am.”

The plans were already set: once we left, Monterey Compound would go into permanent lockdown until the rest of the troops returned. A skeleton crew would stay behind, Ramona and a small cavalry unit on patrol, enough to mount a defense if needed. But if holding the walls became impossible, their orders were clear—fall back and retreat. The bunker is where they’d make their last stand.

“When you return,” Luna began, her tone serious as she locked eyes with me, “which you will, you need to decide what the future will look like.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

“You can be general, or you can lead, but you cannot do both. Not effectively, not fairly. One of the two will suffer, and with a war looming over you like a shadow, it will not be easy to convince them all to keep either.”

“I can assure you that won’t be a problem,” I replied evenly, lifting my chin, guilt washing over me as to the reason why.

Luna’s gaze lingered on me, heavy with skepticism as if she were trying to figure me out. But it wasn’t my place to make her see. As general, it was up to me to do what was necessary, to make the decisions no one else could stomach, for the good of everyone—even if it cost me more than I could admit.

I hoped Luna would understand someday. That they all would.

The fire crackled in the hearth, its warmth protected by the air magic I’d practiced since getting back. Sweet, harsh scents of woodsmoke mingled with faint traces of spice from the food spread across the low table. Prescott’s quarters had always carried a sense of calm for me. Fire or not, it had a warmth to it even in his absence. Despite his absence.

Tonight, the room was alive. Laughter echoed off the wood-paneled walls, the flicker of flames painted the faces of the people I loved the most in hues of gold. I sat curled on the brown leather couch, a steaming cup of coffee clutched in my hands.

The dogs tumbled near the door, tails wagging as their play became more rambunctious and out of control. I shifted my attention elsewhere, forcing myself to appreciate the here and now, because in twenty-four hours, everything would be different. Tomás leaned on the arm of the chair across the coffee table, talking animatedly to Moe. The same Tomoe who dodged his heavy-lidded stare as though we would all buy the reddening of her cheeks was from the fireplace—not the golden-skinned boy granting all his attention to her. Riley sat on the other side of me, Yasmin tucked under his arm. The two of them whispered to each other and blocked out the rest of us. Across the room, Elie and Emma sat in the corner, their laughter occasionally broke out in waves.

It was chaotic. Loud. Awkward at moments, but it was home—this was my family. Mine. Even Adelaide had been allowed to make a rare appearance now that Hunter trusted us all. She watched the dogs with wide eyes, stuffing her face with some oat cookie Reina had baked her. Jessa had the worst of it all, unwanted by everyone but here by grace of Reina’s lack of boundaries and weakness to lust. Perhaps the awkwardness of their interactions had spared me the complicated situation of the other woman sharing this couch.

I caught Yasmin’s glares, pretended not to notice in the same way Jessa did when it came to Hunter shooting daggers at her from a few seats away. The tension between the Moore’s and her was almost comical. Almost. Reina and Jessa’s ‘latest drama’— complicated my ass —had cast a shadow on the first half of the night. Explaining why no one was surprised she’d arrived at Reina’s side to Alexiares was, in fact, comical. Some things with Reina would never change—her messy love life was one of those things.

“All right, all right,” Reina said, standing up dramatically. “Story time!”

Hunter groaned, “Here we go.”

Reina ignored him, grinning.

“So there I was, pulling this soldier from the rubble, literally healing him as I was pulling, and BAM!” She clapped her hands together loudly.

Abel jumped back at the noise, causing Emma to squeal. Her brother, Luke, woke up from his nest near our bedroom door and Hal rushed over, scooping him up to rock him back to sleep.

“BAM?” Alexiares’s brow raised.

Reina ignored him, her voice dropping in dramatic flair. “I’m yanked off my mare by not one, not two, but three Pansies. Mind you, they aren’t even what y’all seen before. These babies were nightmares made of flesh … or is it flesh made of nightmares?”

“It was one Pansie,” Alexiares deadpanned from beside me, not bothering to look up from his coffee as he kicked it back.

“Let my sister have her moment,” Hunter said, giving Alexiares a silent, menacing warning.

“ Yeah, pup,” Reina said, popping both Ps with a smug grin. “Let me have my moment.”

Their relationship was one of the few things that could still coax a genuine laugh out of me these days. The way they balanced each other out—it was a kind of healing I wasn’t sure either of them had expected. Reina got the brotherly banter she’d always deserved from Seth, while Alexiares, whether he’d admit it or not, found in her the kind of sibling bond he’d been denied with Evander. It worked for them.

The thought tugged a smile to my lips, my hands tightening around the warm cup in my lap. My thigh bounced, a steady rhythm of nerves that hadn’t registered until Alexiares shifted closer. His hand settled lightly on my knee, grounding me. I met his eyes and nodded, grateful.

“Anyway,” Reina went on, fully in her element. “First one was off me in seconds. I put an arrow through one eye—WHAM!” She mimed the motion. “Then, for fun, the other eye.”

“Tell them, babe,” Jessa chimed in, her voice sticky sweet. Reina shot her a sharp stare to silence her before recovering with an exaggerated laugh. Hunter’s gaze remained fixed with distaste at the blonde.

Abel was eating it all up, nodding along as if he hadn’t heard the story a dozen times. “Then what happened?” he asked, leaning forward.

At least Yasmin and Hal seemed somewhat entertained. Elie watched on, bored but laughing on cues. Better than before.

Reina basked in the attention, leaning back as though she were holding court. “I had one arrow left, and I knew I had to make it count. So, I channeled my inner Amaia. I used it to get a new weapon. Improv at its finest.”

Abel nodded appreciatively and Hal shook his head in a laugh of disbelief. His middle child, Olivia, hung onto his leg, leaning forward, mesmerized by Reina and her story.

“I don’t believe it,” Hunter muttered.

“Well, ya should.” Reina’s gaze hardened, a smug challenge flickering in her eyes. “I’ve been able to outshoot you since I was in a diaper.”

“Whatever,” Hunter said with a sharp, bemused laugh.

“You know what?” Reina crossed her arms. “Story time’s over. Y’all don’t deserve the rest.”

“Thank God,” Riley mumbled.

That earned him a smirk from Tomoe. The two of them shared a slight tap of their hands that did not slip Reina’s notice.

“Okay, not nice,” she snapped, but the corners of her mouth twitched in amusement.

“At least she didn’t stop for a pair of heels this time,” I said with a huffed laugh.

Alexiares choked on his refill of coffee. “She did what?”

There was no such thing as too much caffeine for either of us. It was basically foreplay for a good night’s rest at this point.

“Oh, you haven’t heard?” Riley jumped in, a mischievous grin lighting up his face.

Tomoe jumped at the chance. “Bonnie and Clyde here were out on a run, and Reina?—”

“I tracked them the whole time,” Reina interrupted with a wild cackle, barely able to contain her energy. “Firing arrows at leaves, bottles, whatever I could find. They both thought the other was messing with them when they weren’t looking. Classic.”

Riley groaned, shaking his head, locs flying, like he’d relived this moment far too many times. “You almost got us killed.”

“Oh, please.” Reina waved him off.

“When I realized it wasn’t him?—”

“ We realized at the same time,” Riley interrupted, a knowing glint flashing in his eyes.

“We changed our route, ducked into a store, and waited for her to round the corner,” I added, dryly. “Not exactly rocket science, but it worked.”

“Worked too well. We were supposed to?—”

“Not sure who wears heeled boots on a scouting mission,” I interrupted with a laugh. “But I digress.”

“They were Lockette Beatle Valentino’s, thank you very much,” Reina shot back like we weren’t quite grasping her point of view. “And I wasn’t wearing them when I left! I found them. What was I supposed to do? Leave them there to rot?”

“You would’ve saved yourself the joy of having to heal your own wound,” Riley said, smirking now.

“Ouch,” Hunter muttered, wincing in sympathy. He knew from experience that healing yourself was a great pain.

Reina shrugged, her grin as sharp as ever. “Worth every second of it.”

“It’s an apocalypse.” Serenity cut in full of disbelief.

Reina shot back with a teasing grin, “That doesn’t mean I have to be ugly, Serenity,” her tone light and full of playful defiance.

The whole room broke into laughter. Only Reina could make vanity sound as important as basic survival.

“We were stuck in Del Monte Shopping Center all night,” Riley explained casually, his hand squeezed Yasmin’s shoulder with gentle affection and she glanced down, cheeks reddening with her smile. “Surrounded by a herd of at least fifty Pansies.”

“Crazy to think I thought I couldn’t handle that back then,” I mumbled more to myself than to anyone else.

Emma tilted her head, her expression skeptical. “You really think you could now?”

“Obviously,” Elie cut in before I could answer. “She’s her .”

“Yeah, right,” Serenity shot back. “You’re good, but not that good.”

I glanced at Yasmin, catching the flicker of discomfort that passed through her as Riley spoke, but she bit it down.

“Jax’s timing was impeccable, as always,” Reina said, cutting through the tension with her usual flair, sending an extra ripple of happiness through the room.

“Yeah, I wonder why,” Tomoe muttered with the roll of her eyes. “ Thank you, Moe, for saving our lives , says no one. Ever.”

“Jax and?—”

“Jax and Mohammed,” Yasmin corrected, her voice soft. “They got you out. I remember.”

The mention of Mohammed hung in the air. The room grew quieter, the tension thick enough to choke.

“Fun times, right?” Reina said, flashing a grin that could melt any awkwardness away. “Anywho, Abel, I think this party needs a little music. Shall we?”

Abel’s grin was quick to return, and he stood, helping her to her feet with a dramatic flourish. Reina linked her arm with his, and they made their way toward the door.

“Be right back, my little love bugs!” she called over her shoulder, her voice practically singing with excitement as she led the way. Abel followed close behind, shaking his head with a chuckle.

The room was still for only a moment before Hal spoke. “Should we be concerned about that?”

“Yes,” Alexiares said without hesitation.

“It’s never fun when they scheme together,” Tomoe muttered, his brow furrowed. “The boy knows exactly how to block me out.”

She drummed her fingers absently on the table, her brow furrowed as though she were trying to work through a problem no one else could see. If there was anyone who could get under her skin, it was those two.

“Not a fan of surprises?” Tomás asked, his lips twitching in amusement.

“A surprise from my sister can go one of two ways: you wish you could disappear into the void, or?—”

The door slammed open. Reina and Abel burst back in, lugging what appeared to be a cobbled-together speaker system.

“Woo! Let’s party, people!” Reina announced like she was letting us know she’d single-handedly saved the world.

“Don’t worry,” Abel added with a grin. “I picked the music this time.”

Tomoe froze, her inky eyes narrowing with the slight drop of her jaw. “Is that my record player?”

Reina smirked, the picture of innocence. “Yeah. You like it?”

“We made it,” Abel said proudly. “I screwed everything together while she micromanaged,” he said with a shrug, brushing imaginary dust off his shoulder.

Elie stepped up, curiosity lighting her face. “Cool.”

Tomoe’s restraint ticked away, about ready to explode but Tomás took advantage of the moment, holding out a hand. “Dance?”

She snatched her hand back with a hiss and an accompanying glare that reminded me some looks could in fact kill. Emma and Elie weren’t having it. They pushed her forward and over to the only clear spot in the room by the door, grabbing her arms and forcing her to dance. Tomás followed with a grin.

Reina grabbed Adelaide, spinning her in an exaggerated twirl. “Clean versions only, pinky promise,” she called to Hunter, hanging out her pinky finger.

Hunter put a matching one out in front of him and Serenity leaned into his shoulder with a small, but noticeable grin as she watched on, “Pinky.”

The night slipped away and I let my gaze drift around the room, taking in the rare moment of peace. Yasmin and Riley were deep in some conversation I wasn’t even going to try to understand, while Jessa and Serenity were actually getting along with Hal and Caleb—surprising, to say the least.

Hunter stood off to the side, watching Reina and Adelaide, his face caught somewhere between longing and frustration. Yeah, I knew what he was thinking. Seth. I could practically hear it in the silence around him.

“You good?” Alexiares’s voice broke through the quiet.

I met his gaze, his expression softer than usual, waiting. I gave a curt nod, something inside me finally letting go. “Yeah. I think I am.”

Surprising myself, I added, “Come on. Let’s dance. You missed your chance being a dick last time.”

The smile he gave me wasn’t a smirk—it was something warm, real. His hand slid to my shoulder, his fingers giving me a light squeeze as he pulled me toward the center of the room.

“I do owe you a dance,” he whispered into my ear, the tickle of his breath sending a tickle down my spine and twisting my core. “But for a very different night. One I want us to remember forever.”

His hand rested against the small of my back and he pulled me closer, staring down at me with an overwhelming amount of love. And for once, I didn’t think about anything else. Just this. Just us.

The night air of Monterey Compound was cool against my skin. A rarity for the month of July. I took a slow drag then let the smoke settle deep before I exhaled, watching it curl up into the dark sky. Out here, in the green space between Prescott’s quarters and Compound Hall, I could almost feel stillness. Almost .

The crunch of footsteps shattered it. There was no need to turn around. I knew who it was.

I groaned, grinding the blunt against the concrete to snuff it out. “Hi,” I said flatly, not bothering to mask my irritation.

“This stays between the two of us,” she said, voice carrying the same amount of irritation she only saved specifically for me. How special .

My eyes flicked to the small bump now visible beneath her shirt. Riley’s child. His son . My godson … That had to be killing her. I wasn’t sure how Riley had managed to convince her, then again, all bets said she spent her free time praying I’d never make it back—save the argument for something that mattered.

I forced a sharp exhale through my nose. “Everything has always stayed between us,” I replied. “I have no interest in straining a relationship with Riley over something I should’ve solved on the mat back when I had the chance.”

Yasmin’s eyes narrowed, her lips curled into a bitter smile. I was done being the bigger person with her. Riley had asked me to do my best and I had. If she wanted to act like some child unable to experience simple character development, then that was on her.

“When you come back, are you going to bury him like you buried Prescott? Will you abandon Riley’s grave the way you left his? Jax’s?” She was so smug—so intent on hurting me and for what?

Literally, for fucking what? I was a general, I owed her no sympathy for the outcomes of my job, a post her boyfriend held for years without incident. A position he’d been proud to hold—one appointed to him by Riley himself. All I’d done was sign the dotted line.

I’d granted her space when she’d asked for it, apologized when it was due—profusely—shown her respect when none was due, and overall tolerated her. Yasmin had never shown me the same grace. And now, she’d gone too far.

My body went still. That fire I’d been trying to smother erupted. Slowly, deliberately, I turned to face her, my voice dropping to something deadly—yet calm. “Do not,” I said, every word carved from stone, “say their names again unless it’s to thank them for the fucking walls keeping you alive or to share a memory worth hearing. Do you understand?”

Yasmin scoffed, but I stepped into her space, forcing her to meet my eyes.

“You’re pregnant. But you won’t always be. I’m going to ask you again: Are. We. Clear?”

She held her ground for a second, her jaw tight, before her gaze dropped to the side like the coward she was. Had always been. She’d had a chance to confront me when there had been a chance to fight. But she hadn’t, because as tough as she acted, Yasmin knew that when it came to me, she would always lose.

“Then you’d lose Riley’s loyalty for good,” she muttered, but the heat in her words had fizzled into something weaker.

My gaze swept over her, letting the silence drag before answering with a smile. “Would I?” I said finally, cool and deliberate.

I stepped back and pulled the blunt from my pocket and lit it again with a flick of my fingers. The flame flared, reflecting in her hooded eyes. I took a slow drag, watching her, savoring the sweet, earthiness of it.

“Riley’s a soldier,” I said as I exhaled, smoke spilled out with the wind, blowing it away from her face. “He understands the law of The Pit.”

I took a few steps away, pausing long enough to tilt my head back toward her, my voice sharp and deliberate. “Besides, I thought I already killed him.”

I didn’t spare a second glance. Let her choke on whatever words she had left. How dare she? How fucking dare she dig her claws into wounds that never healed? Yasmin’s words had almost cracked something in me, something fragile buried so, so deep, but I wouldn’t let her see it. The smoke curled around me as I walked away, clinging to me like the ghosts of the ones I loved—the ones I’d failed—pressing down on me with every step.