Page 73

Riley

A slow evening—there was really nothing better. These rooms finally felt like home. I missed the space I had shared with the others before. It had been home for years and held many memories, but now was time for growth. Change.

I sat behind the desk, stealing glances at Yasmin as she sprawled on the couch, sketchbook in hand. Her brow furrowed in concentration, her pencil gliding in quick, precise strokes. The high chair I was carving needed to be perfect. Safe enough so Yasmin wouldn’t have to worry every second Jaxon was in it. Comfortable enough for him to nod off without fussing, and fly enough to catch a million eyes. I didn’t know much about being a good father—not yet—but I figured small efforts such as this were a good place to start.

Two brief knocks came to the door and Yasmin leaned back to swipe the sheer curtain from the window. She dropped her head with a groan, standing to make her way to the door. I set my tools on top of the desk, watching and waiting to see who it was.

By the agitated toss of Yasmin’s silky black hair, I had a feeling who it was. “Let me guess, here for Riley,” she said, holding the door open but blocking the path in.

“Well, it’s not for you,” Amaia said, breezing past Yasmin with the confidence of someone who did not care that she was not welcome by half the people in the room. She dropped a heavy bag to the floor, and Harley and Suckerpunch bolted through after her, tails wagging furiously. “Knocking was a courtesy, by the way.”

And I’m up . Crossing the room, I greeted my sister with a curious smile. The last thing I needed were the two of them to go at it … again. Once was enough, twice was an inconvenience, three times was a headache, now—it was simply exhausting.

My grin wavered, there was something off about her and the way her hands were stuffed into her back pockets. Her stance was tense. Uneasy. “What’s up?”

Amaia glanced at Alexiares, their eyes locked, simmering from an ember to a glowing flame that refused to dim. I caught Yasmin’s gaze from across the room as she plopped back on to the couch and shrugged, silently asking if she was as nauseated as I was. She grinned, her tongue squeezed between her teeth.

“I’m uncomfortable,” I muttered, loud enough for her to hear.

“There’s no other way to put this so I’m just going to say it.” Amaia hesitated, shifting in place and fumbling with her fingers. Oh, she was nervous. That was new. “Uh, we’re kind of engaged and now we’d like to get married before you know, one, or both, of us die in Ronan’s war.”

I offered no response other than a slow, deliberate blink. Old news . Harley came to a stop in front of my feet and stared up at me, tongue hanging out of her mouth as she barked one, quick, clip of demand.

Yasmin clipped a sarcastic laugh from the other side of the room, not bothering to glance up from her sketch. “Congratulations,” she said dryly. “ Psychopaths .” The latter was muttered under her breath—yet still clear enough to be heard by the one person who couldn’t control the urge to bite back.

“Yeah, just wait till the little psycho babies are running around your classroom Titi Yas. The more the merrier, right?” Amaia snapped, the happy, carefree smile on her face replaced by one crafted of spite.

Alexiares placed a calming hand on Amaia’s back as Yasmin froze, her face caught somewhere between horror and shock of such a creative threat. “Not to worry. We don’t believe that the whole end of the world meets screaming, crying, child thing.”

“Child thing—” Yasmin raised her brows, her round, plump lips pulled to the side. The comment was sure to set her off once she processed what he was saying.

She was … passionate about the little’s of the apocalypse. It was why she remained a teacher even in The After. She believed kids were the hope we couldn’t afford to lose. To Yasmin, there was no circumstance in which not having children running around was a curse and not a blessing. She’d wanted to be a mom since she was a girl, a dream only halted at the onset of all, well, this .

“About time you finally spoke up,” I said, finding control over the conversation.

Amaia’s had whipped toward me, her jaw dropping ever so slightly, eyes narrowed.

I shrugged with a smirk. “I was starting to get offended.”

“How did?—”

“Reina,” Amaia and I said in unison, cutting off Alexiares’s questioning.

Amaia’s fists clenched, jaw now tight, but it was all a facade. Reina would only tell family, never someone outside of it. “I’m going to kill her.”

“Glad you’re getting it out the way,” I said, enjoying the rare moment of being the group instigator, “because what she and Abel have planned for when we get back is made of your worst nightmare.”

“Abel knows too?” Amaia groaned, taking a step back. Suckerpunch was already curled up on her boots, snoring softly.

“Everyone knows,” I stated the obvious. “It’s Reina.”

Amaia exhaled. “Can this be a secret, please?”

Ah. There it was. The look . I hated when she did that. The one that screamed ‘ please Riley the best big brother ever.’ It won me over every time.

“Why are you—” Realization set in. Now this, I had not expected. My mouth fell open. “You want me to marry you?”

“Fuck,” Alexiares scoffed lacking all patience. “Took you long enough to get there.”

I swallowed hard, trying to find steady ground. This was no light favor. This was us —what we’d lost, all that we still carried. Jax, who was basically my brother and her everything. Prescott, the steady hand who’d held us both together. They were gone, but their voices lived in the cracks between every memory.

Amaia stood there, the last piece of the life we once knew, staring at me as though she was holding on by a thread. This was it. Just us. The last one’s standing and our lives no longer looked as they did when our favorite people were still alive. We’d changed, grown, stepped into ourselves out of necessity in their absence. Alexiares held her hand, his thumb brushing over her shaking fingers.

I pulled her into a hug, squeezing the air out of her as I closed my eyes against the tears threatening to spill over. Yasmin had gone quiet, her usual sharp edges softened. The sketchbook lay forgotten in her lap, and her lips quivered as though she was swallowing her own grief.

“What an honor,” I whispered.

Raging waves crashed against the rocks near the drop off. I leaned against a giant mound of hard earth, holding up a cracked mirror as Amaia fussed over the most trivial aspects of herself.

“So there’s nothing in my teeth?” she asked for the third time, her brows furrowed as she checked her reflection.

“No, Amaia. Nothing. You’re fine,” I replied, biting back a laugh.

“The liner? Is it too much?”

“It’s perfect.”

“What about my hair?” She pulled it up, then let it fall.

I’d been around enough women in my life to know to say the exact opposite of what I think and carefully—so no, the liner around her eyes wasn’t too much and yes, she should definitely wear her hair up. It was humorous seeing her this way, but she looked beyond words. From the girl who’d cornered me in a cave not too far from here, with fire in her eyes, to the beautiful woman who was confident in her power … I only wished the others could be here to see it. She caught me smiling and scowled.

“Don’t start,” she muttered, smoothing the lace of her dress.

“Not saying a word.” Shit, don’t cry . But it was hard not to, she made me so proud.

The orange and pink hues of the sky reflected off her billowing, cream dress. Intricate lace with delicate, pastel flowers hung off her sculpted frame, sweeping down and across the toe of her shoes. A green slithering snake went up the side of the sleeve. It was far from the traditional dress—exactly like her. Down to the Dr. Martens planted on her feet. She smacked her lips together, dotting some reddish powder across them and patting it onto her cheeks.

“You look beautiful.”

Amaia paused, her eyes glancing up at the sky as she blinked in quick succession. “If I start crying, I swear I’m going to smack you.”

“I didn’t think you owned anything that wasn’t black,” I teased.

“Yeah.” She sighed, tugging at the fabric. “I found it years ago. Haven’t had a reason to wear it. It was too … I don’t know. I left it behind the first time but I kept having weird dreams about it … felt like it was calling to me, so I went back. It’s been shoved into the corner of my closet ever since.”

Pressing off the rock, pulling out the delicate chain from my pocket. It was London’s. I’d been saving it for … well, I wasn’t quite sure. “Some would call that a sign,” I said, unclasping the lock and placing it around her neck. “Something old.”

“Some would,” Amaia’s fingers brushed over the Medusa pendant as she whispered, “Yes.”

“There’s more,” I said.

It wasn’t an awkward moment between us. Those didn’t exist. But it was vulnerable, and that was something we saved for the rarest of occasions. Understanding silence had suited our relationship best over the years—there were no secrets between us, and thus, talking about the emotions that went behind them had felt pointless. A self-pitying act.

“Oh?”

“Something new,” I said, pulling a small wooden bracelet from my pocket. The carving was simple but careful—woven branches circling together. I’d shaped it from the heartwood of a tree miles outside of Monterey Compound, the kind Prescott always said would outlive us all.

Amaia turned it over in her hands, tracing the grooves with her thumb. “You made this?”

I nodded. “And something blue.” I pulled the item I was most nervous about, having grabbed it in the few seconds Amaia had allowed me the space to gather my belongings before making the trek out here. Prescott collected many things. I’d called him out on his hoarding habits. It just so happened collecting hundreds of stones and shells from along the coast had served a better purpose. I’d been saving the earrings I’d made for Prescott’s birthday, a way to cheer her up, but given we would be spending that at war, now seemed about the right time as ever.

Her breath hitched as she reached out a trembling hand. I placed them in her palm, watching her put them in, her posture slowly turning rigid. Her shoulders tensed, the shift almost imperceptible—until I saw it in her eyes. The panic. A quiet, creeping thing. She turned toward the ocean as though she might allow herself to fall in.

“You can still run away,” I said, placing a hand on her shoulder and guiding her back to face me.

“I know,” she whispered, her gaze fixed on the ground.

“I’m proud of you, kid.”

“I changed my mind.” Her head whipped up with that wicked smile back in place. “I should run.”

“You should,” I agreed with a shrug. “Anyone with sense would run from the Bloodhound waiting for you down the beach.”

She shoved me hard enough to send me stumbling back a step in the sand. “Riley!”

“What?” I laughed with the ease only two people could pull out of me. “I’m being a supportive brother. Come on, talk me through it. Why are we here right now?”

Her expression sobered again. “Because … because I love him,” she murmured.

“Right,” I nodded, letting her work through this herself. It was her decision, I couldn’t decide what was right for her life. Not that I didn’t approve, but commitment in this sense was a fragile topic for her—one she’d never been truly comfortable discussing.

“And he loves me.”

“Yeah,” I chuckled in agreement. “That’s an understatement.”

She fluffed up the curls atop her head, eyes darting to the world around us. “That doesn’t mean I should marry him though, like that’s a really big thing that people do.”

“Some of them,” I reasoned. “Sure.”

“But me?” Amaia’s laugh was maniacal even for the crazed.

“Why not you?”

That silenced her. I kept pushing, “You deserve a life that includes happiness, Amaia. Why not you ?”

She chewed her lip, her gaze finally locking on mine.

I gave her a moment, then pressed on. “There was a time where I didn’t think you’d ever let anyone in. You know, there are people in your life that you are bonded to, close with, myself included—but to let someone truly know the depths of your soul …” a shaky laugh escaped me. “I’m happy you’ve found someone that makes you feel so safe, that no matter what, you’ll always have a home. And my hope for you is that you’ll see this as the blessing it is, and let yourself feel it all. The good, the bad, the ugly, highs and the lows. I had my questions and my doubts, please, don’t believe for a second that I did not—but I could not picture a better match.”

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she whispered, “Dammit, Riley,” and wiped them away.

I pulled her in, tucking her head against my shoulder. “I’ll be waiting for you on the other side.”

Alexiares

“You could have at least dressed for the occasion,” Riley grumbled, clapping a hand on my back.

I barely felt it, my attention fixed on the slow, endless pull of the ocean. I was trying to find my calm, but it wasn’t coming. Not today.

Never in a million fucking years had I pictured myself getting married—let alone twice. But Amaia made loving her so easy that this dream called to me every night. In the middle of this hell, the idea of marriage ironically meant more than in The Before. It wasn’t about tradition. This bond was made with the knowledge that there may not be a tomorrow, let alone a few hours. All you had was now. Showing the greatest commitment that you could while daring death to take it from you. Take me if you can, but you’ll never take this .

Love made you want to fight like hell.

“I’m wearing nice boots and a starched shirt,” I muttered, shaking him off with a smirk. “I even moisturized.”

Riley let out a sharp chuckle, shaking his head. Harley and Suckerpunch bounded up to him, tails wagging like they were in on the joke. Then, just as quick, they circled back to my side.

Harley nudged my leg, and I ran a hand absently over her fur, pausing when I felt the twist of vines wound loosely around her neck. Flowers bloomed along the green, bright against her dark coat.

Riley’s gaze flicked down, then back to me, amusement clear in his eyes. He didn’t say anything, only smirked like he knew exactly what had gone through my head when I’d grown them. I ignored him, movement catching my eyes from down the beach.

Amaia stepped into view, walking down the sand with curls hanging, falling into her face. Her eyes, dark as night with the coal around them, locked onto mine, and I couldn’t breathe.

She was perfect.

My knees nearly buckled.

By the time she reached me, I wasn’t thinking anymore. I grabbed her hand, pulled it to my lips, and kissed it, my thumb brushing over her fingers, her knuckles, the pulse point at her wrist.

“I love you,” I murmured.

Amaia bit the inside of her cheek and her blush deepened. She pulled her hand back only to tap her own cheeks trying to push the heat away.

Fuck. I think I finally believe in luck.

“You ready?” Riley asked, adjusting the buttons on his shirt with a quick glance at us.

Amaia nodded, her voice soft. “Yeah.”

I swallowed hard, my fingers twitching at my sides. She was mesmerizing, I could not help the flow of words. “You are astonishing.” But even that felt small for what she was.

Amaia let out a raspy laugh—acknowledging that the words weren’t meant to have stumbled out loud.

“Well,” Riley cleared his throat. “Given I had zero time to prepare for this and I’ve never been to a wedding … Here goes the TV script.”

An uneasy chuckle exchanged between the three of us, the tension in the air electric.

“You two are—” He exhaled, shaking his head as he tried to find the right words. “Balance. That’s what you are. And if anyone deserves this … it’s you.” He turned to Amaia, his gaze softening. “Seeing you happy in a world like this? It’s a damn miracle. You’ve had your share of dark days, and you still manage to hold on to light. You’re more than deserving of this.” He nodded toward me, a quiet challenge in his eyes. “And you, Bloodhound—you make her happy. That’s the most important thing. So don’t fuck it up.”

It wasn’t just a remark; it was his approval. His way of giving us his blessing in a world that didn’t often allow for it.

“And I hope,” he continued, his voice a little quieter but full of sincerity, “you both have a long, healthy marriage. In a place like this, that’s a rare thing to wish for. But I see it in your eyes, both of you. So, here’s to it. To you, to her—everything you’ve got.”

Amaia sniffled, a tear slipping down her cheek. I reached for her, brushing the tear away with my thumb though I was damn near right there with her.

“Okay. Vows then?” Riley said.

Amaia and I both opened our mouths at the same time, then hesitated. She let out a small laugh. “Can I go first?”

I nodded, heart thundering damn near out my chest, pounding over the waves in my ears.

Her eyes locked onto mine, and everything else faded. “Alexiares … I love you. Fiercely. Completely. Till the end of my days and beyond them. I thank the stars every day for you. For loving me with as much ferocity as you do—no hesitations, no fears. God, I’m crazy about you, how unapologetically yourself you are, no masks, no pretenses. What you see is what you get, I love it. You have the mind of a warrior, but the heart of a lover—a heart that belongs to me and only me. You make me feel safe, in a way I never thought I’d be. Known in a deeper capacity than I previously thought possible, but most of all, you make me feel seen. And I swear, I’ll love you with everything I have. Always.”

I grounded myself, gripping her hands harder, as though losing her was a real possibility. “Princess,” I smirked, squeezing her hands with slight teasing. “You love every part of me—the good, the bad, the ugly. And that’s more than I ever thought I deserved. You’ve taught me what love is. Love without conditions. And because of you, I’m learning to love the same way. You’re not just love to me. You’re family. You’re peace. You’re home. Annoyingly so, you also happen to be the bravest, and most reckless, person I’ve ever met. The strongest too. You throw yourself into the fire for the people you love without a second thought. You are confidence and compassion and sheer fucking ferocity all in one. And I admire every part of you.” I swallowed, my chest tight, my pulse unsteady. “We’ve fought. We’ve bled. We’ve lost a hell of a lot. But if I had to live every second of my life—every moment of pain and suffering—all over again just to be here, standing with you? I’d do it. Every damn time.”

Silence stretched between us.

Riley let out a breath, running a hand through his hair. “Damn,” he muttered, almost to himself. He glanced between us, something akin to awe in his expression.

I know what he saw. I thought about it every time I caught our reflection in the mirror when we shared the bathing chambers every morning—getting ready for the day. In the passing windows as we walked through The Compound. In the ocean that slammed so violently around us. Two people who had been torn apart by life in ways most would call unrepairable, somehow finding their way to each other. Breaking down walls they swore they’d keep up forever.

He cleared his throat. “Right. Rings. Alexiares, do you take Amaia to have and to hold, or yeah, pretty sure that’s how it goes.”

I took her hand, sliding the coffin-shaped diamond ring onto her finger slowly, savoring the way it caught the light shimmering against her brown skin. “Fucking of course I do.” I leaned in, Amaia giggled, our lips brushing?—

“Aht!” Riley stuck a hand between our faces. “Didn’t say kiss the bride yet. Patience.”

“—is a virtue I don’t have,” I growled, pulling her in again. She giggled, hiding her face against my chest.

“Wait.” Amaia reached her hand out and Riley complied, reaching into his pocket. She lifted a ring, flipping it over so I could see the inside. Til Death . “I do, too.”

I blinked. “Where the hell did you get that?”

She smirked. “ I know people ,” she mocked.

“Of course you do.” I let out a breathless laugh before pulling her close, our lips meeting in a kiss that made me not only believe in luck—but accept the idea of fate.

Riley huffed. “Okay, kiss the bride , I guess,” he mumbled, rolling his eyes, but there was warmth in it. A small, knowing smile.

The sun was dropping, casting a warm glow over the beach, the waves crashing softly at our feet. Riley made his way down the shore, giving us the space to enjoy the moment, each other , when in a few hours, that would no longer be the case. The water lapped at our ankles, moving like we’d done it a thousand times before as we walked down the beach.

My mind wandered back to that day I’d found her out here. There’d been such hatred, such malice in our words—yet it had been a foundation in our very relationship. It was the first time we’d come to understand each other, the pain we both held.

Amaia and I stayed close, the quiet stretching between us. I drew her close again, comforted by that hint of fire and coffee always lingering in her hair, our fingers intertwining.

I stopped, turned to face her, and tugged her a little closer. “I’m serious about this,” I said, my voice low. “This—us—it’s forever. No question. Even beyond this life.”

Her eyes lingered on me, searching, before the intensity faded and a slow, knowing smile curled on her lips. “You are my infinity.”