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Chapter Forty-Three

Ronan

Six Months Later

Today was the day that the monsters who stole my innocence were put to death.

I didn’t want to watch this, but I needed to with Elias by my side.

I stood at the back of the gallery, my eyes fixed on the glass that separated me from them—the men who had raped me and brutalized me. All the faces that had shattered me, one by one that night, still haunted my dreams.

They were strapped in, their bodies unnervingly still, and the sterile white light of the chamber made them almost look like ghosts. The entire scene felt like a dream, the kind where everything was too sharp and too distant at the same time.

The heavy hum of the fluorescent lights overhead droned on, filling the space between us with an almost suffocating quiet.

These were the men who had assaulted me, who had left me broken in ways I wasn’t sure anyone could understand—not even Elias. Now they sat, waiting, knowing what was coming. It was unbelievable that they still had the nerve to be defiant in their silence, still refusing to look at me through the glass.

The younger one—the man who hadn’t touched me but had laughed and watched all the others—his eyes darted around nervously like a caged animal.

He appeared to be trying to gauge the situation, looking for any way to get out of it, maybe hoping for some miraculous reprieve. They were all killers, all predators desperate to run so they could find another helpless prey to devour. The cop, the fucking cop, the man sworn to protect, to serve…he was angry.

The amount of information that had been uncovered about how dirty his badge had become was too overwhelming. It extended well past what he’d done to me and dove into the sexual trafficking arena.

‘Depravity’ was the only word that kept running through my head.

Now he sat with his jaw clenched, his arms folded tightly over his chest as if he could somehow shut out what was happening, and still didn’t accept that his time had come. He had always carried himself that way—ignorant, defiant, arrogant, but now that mask was cracking.

I tried to breathe, but it felt like the air had thickened.

Time hadn’t prepared me for this moment.

Watching them die for what they had done should have brought me some kind of relief, satisfaction, or peace. But there was nothing, no great surge of triumph, just…nothing. I only yearned more to hold Elias in my arms during this moment.

I thought about what they had done to me, how they had taken my life, twisted it, and left me stumbling in the wreckage. I remembered the violence, the blood, the bruises, the scars, and the staggering pain of the ripping.

It all was embedded in my soul, like the feeling of being trapped in my own skin, terrified of everything and everyone for so long.

Elias had broken through all that disgustingness and was the only person who made me feel safe, the only person who I trusted with my body. I’d spent so much time hating them, obsessing over them, wanting this day to come with all my being.

I had spent every waking moment that I hadn’t been desperate for Elias to return, imagining what it would feel like to see them pay.

Now that it was finally here, I felt…hollow.

Empty.

It was just more death.

The mechanical beep of the machines in the chamber broke through my thoughts. My heart lurched in my chest, a nervous anticipation rising up like bile. It was starting…the beginning of their end.

The first needle went into the one who’d watched and hadn’t initially helped. His arm twitched. It was the first sign of the poison coursing through his veins. His body stiffened, his eyes wide as though he finally realized the weight of his situation. Then he collapsed back, his body jerking once, and then nothing.

Silence.

His life drained away with a mechanical inevitability that felt so cold, so final. It was then that the realization hit me. I wasn’t watching a man die. I was watching a part of my past disappear, giving me the ability to allow myself to heal over their ashes.

As I watched their deaths, I let myself think of Elias, letting the pain enter my heart to share this small memory with him. I could feel the warmth spread through my chest. Father Franklin, his mentor, was by my side. Just like he had been for Elias, he’d become a silent anchor, a reason to keep walking forward.

One by one, they all followed until it got to Mullins.

His face was the one that haunted me the most, and his laughter brought vomit from just the thought of what was happening to him. Now, his noises, his expressions, were void of cocky humor, his body tightening as the same thing happened to him. He fought against it at first, his chest rising in a final, desperate breath, but then he, too, succumbed.

His body went still, just like that.

They were gone.

They were all gone.

Justice metered to the sins they had committed.

Everyone in this gallery had been a victim or knew someone who was taken by their cruelty. I wasn’t alone. There were no tears shed for these men—only silent absolution.

The overseer, a man in a dark suit, stepped into my line of vision. His presence snapped me back into the reality of the moment.

“They are dead, Mister Saint Clare. You may take your time to process.”

But what was there to take time for?

What was there to feel?

I shook my head slowly, my gaze still fixed on their bodies. It was over. It was all over. But there was no closure.

No redemption.

No peace. Just like any death, life moved forward, taking another piece of you with it, but uncaring in the way only you mourned.

“I will pray for their souls,” I said at last, not knowing what else to say.

I turned away and walked out of the gallery, my steps slow, almost mechanical. My chest was tight, my breathing shallow, but it felt like I wasn’t really there. I had left myself behind in that sterile room.

The elevator ride down was just as silent. I stared at my reflection in the polished metal doors, watching the flickering image of myself.

A man hollowed out by rage, death, and pain, a man who had once dreamed of this moment with a kind of fevered obsession. And now that it was here, all I felt was…nothing, nothing but a numbing cold that only Elias could warm.

The elevator doors opened, and I stepped into the lobby, Father Franklin walking silently beside me. The city beyond the glass windows kept moving, oblivious to what had just happened, to what I had just witnessed.

People went about their lives, cars honked in the streets, and the world continued on, unmoved and uncaring.

I couldn’t bring myself to care anymore. I wanted to move forward. I wanted to let my soul rest the way I hoped the evil in theirs could.

I stepped out into the cold night air, giving a brief goodbye to the priest before leaving. The sharp bite of it all barely registered as I made my way to my car. When I turned the key, the engine roared to life, but the noise felt distant like it was coming from another world.

As I began to drive in the car, I had no destination, but it was okay, even though it was unknown.

The question of ‘Where should I go?’ kept floating through my head, but I had no answer.

Honestly, I didn’t know or have any answers, but I didn’t care.

The road stretched on, but the miles didn’t seem to matter. My mind was a tangled mess of thoughts, memories, and sensations, none of which made sense.

I couldn’t process it.

I couldn’t process any of it.

Like a beacon, I arrived at the cemetery where he lay to rest. When I finally pulled into the gravel of the parking area, I briefly wondered if he would be proud.

Would he feel this numb?

Would he be happy?

Would I ever feel like I was normal without him?

No.

When I got to his grave, I fell to my knees. The silence wrapped around me like a blanket, and I welcomed it. The faint hum of the animals in the distance, the wisps of the wind raging with the trees—everything was too loud and unbearably quiet, all at once.

I let the tears fall, staring at his name engraved on the stone, my chest tight.

What had I really expected?

What had I thought this moment would bring?

I had waited too long. Elias and I had fought so hard for this day. But now that it was over, it didn’t feel like a victory. It didn’t feel like anything at all, not without him.

I reached to trace his name with my fingertip, the motion mechanical. My hand shook just slightly as I lifted that hand to my lips. I could feel his warmth, the presence that he was here for me, just as he promised, and I cried harder.

I didn’t even know who I was anymore. Without Elias, there would be no goal to focus on, like taking the monster down.

The seconds ticked by on my watch, each one a reminder that time had moved on, and I was still stuck here. Alone now.

There was no peace. No end. Not truly. It was always death—the only true finality to any of this.

We could only welcome the silence, the emptiness.

I’d sat there for what felt like hours, the weight of the quiet pressing in from every side. The graveyard had always been the land of the dead, but now, it felt more like a cage.

It was the kind of cage that trapped you not with bars but with memories, with regrets. I had imagined this moment so many times—what it would feel like to see them gone, to finally have justice. And yet, now that it was over, I couldn’t shake the gnawing sense that nothing had been resolved. That something deeper, something rawer inside me, had been left behind.

I glanced at the time again.

The ticking of it was unbearable, like a cruel reminder of how quickly time passed while you were stuck in a moment you couldn’t escape. My hand trembled as I placed it on the stone of the love of my life.

I thought about what I should do next.

What was I supposed to do with the rest of my life now that the men who had destroyed it were gone?

Was I supposed to rebuild, to heal?

Was there even anything left to heal?

And who would I heal for?

Elias was gone. I didn’t want anyone else. The rage had burned me up for so long, but now it was just…gone. The fire was out, but I was still standing in the ashes, unsure of who I was without it.

The gun in my pocket felt heavy, the shadows of the graveyard in the corners stretching and twisting in a way that made me feel like I wasn’t really alone. I wasn’t sure if the ghost of the past would ever leave me or if the memories would fade enough for me to move on.

How could they?

Every time I closed my eyes, I still saw them—saw what they’d done, felt the pain, the terror. That wasn’t something you just erased.

I rubbed my face with my hands, trying to push the thought away, but it wouldn’t go. The things they had taken from me weren’t just physical. I wasn’t the same man anymore, and I didn’t know how to fix that without him.

The only thing I cared about was Elias.

Why was I here anymore?

A sharp noise from the trees made me jump, and I instantly looked over where it sounded. The world felt like it was happening on another plane, so far removed from where I was now. But I couldn’t ignore the noise.

It was a snap of a twig—slow, deliberate steps, like something was approaching. I stood up instinctively, my heart pounding in my chest, and for a moment, I was that man again—the one who had been terrified, who had been waiting for something worse to come.

I waited, listening, but a buck appeared. The majestic beauty walked forward with that same regal grace as the one in the forest.

“Fuck you,” I said, the tears falling faster. “I don’t want to do this without you.”

I pulled the gun from my pocket, the one Trav had given me to protect my stupid ass. Now, I was avoiding the heat that burned within me from Elias’s grave.

“No,” I said, shaking my head, my vision blurring from the tears. “I won’t do this without you. Fuck you for leaving me!”

I was choking on snot, desperation, and despair, such a deep pit in my heart that I felt like I was suffocating.

“I can’t, Elias. I need you. Without you, I don’t exist. I am only existing, living in this fucked up world in corporal form. My soul left with you. My heart will never heal. I just feel…numb.”

That heat burned to the point of pain as I held the gun at my heart. I didn‘t know how even to kill myself properly. In the end, I was still such a failure.

I exhaled a breath I didn’t realize I had been holding.

The tension in my body slowly started to loosen, but the tightness in my chest remained.

I looked at Elias’s grave, reading the words carved into the stone.

Elias Cross

Man of God and of Love.

You will be missed. Until we meet again,

may you rest eternally.

I ran a hand through my hair, the frustration bubbling up again—the uncertainty in what this would mean.

Would I block my soul from his by committing this action?

Should I believe the lore or trust that I knew it was done.

I had to do this.

And yet, deep down, I couldn’t help but wonder…

Was I doing the right thing?

I’d sought vengeance for so long, redemption for what was done to the man I love. Redemption for me. But just like witnessing the death of the men who had hurt me…there wasn’t peace. There wasn’t some magical ending that made you feel like you could breathe again.

I was done.

It felt like…a true end. An end to everything I had known…all the rage, the pain. I wasn’t sure if that was a beginning or just another layer of the same endless cycle with this bullet loaded in the magazine.

I didn’t know. Maybe I would never know.

But as I sat there, staring at the grave before me, I felt something stir.

A flicker of hope.

A sliver of something that felt almost like a beginning.

I would see him again.

It was too small to be real, too fragile to trust. But for the first time since the attack, since the death of Elias, I wondered if there was the potential for true peace. Even if it wasn’t the life I had imagined or the peace I thought I wanted, even though guilt swam in my gut.

Maybe that was the hardest thing to come to terms with—life doesn’t always give you the ending you expect. It doesn’t always give you the closure you think you need. Sometimes, you have to make it up as you go along, picking up the pieces that are left behind, no matter how broken they might be.

You have to be the one in control of the pen.

Everything I loved was dead. Even my fucking plant was gone.

What was there left for me? Nothing. I needed to take action.

And so I was.

For once in my fucking life, I was picking up the pen and finishing my own story.

I was creating my ending.

My legs felt heavy, the fear and uncertainty plaguing me with doubt. It was the first time I felt sure of anything. The first time I felt peace.

“I will see you soon, Mon Pur,” I said, closing my eyes, gripping the rosary so tightly in my other hand that blood seeped through my fingers.

With a deep, steadying breath, I brought the barrel to my head, my eyes set on the love of my life. I prayed he would understand, that he would agree I had been through enough. I deserved the ending that wasn’t forced to continue existing, to live for someone else.

My soul was untethered. The minute he left me, I was lost. I didn’t want my strings pulled by anyone. I wasn’t a puppet. At my mother’s funeral, he was whispering under his breath, and those words were prominent in my mind.

May you find peace in this moment,

as the world softly fades away.

May the love you’ve given return to you,

filling your heart, lighting your way.

Come back to me, Elias.

May the pain you carry be released,

as you are held in gentle grace.

May your spirit find solace and rest,

in the eternal embrace.

For once in so long, I could just…sleep. The gun weighed heavy in my hand as I continued to let the memory overtake me.

May the light of those who’ve gone before

guide your journey through the dark,

and may your soul be free of fear,

as you follow the path to the spark.

Guide me, my love. I am ready.

May your transition be tender and calm,

and may you know you are not alone.

In the arms of love, in the arms of peace,

may you find your way home.

Home.

You are my home.

The weight lifted, and peace was instilled through my veins. That warmth only Elias created was growing inside my chest.

I wanted to be free.

To be with him.

Back to my anchor, my love.

My Elias, my light, my Mon Pur .

“I love you so fucking much, Elias. Please, forgive me for being selfish,” I said, my voice as broken as my soul. “I just…I just wanna go home.”

I pushed the gun’s long metal into my mouth until it choked me, but I made sure my finger was firmly on the trigger. The tears flowed faster down my cheeks. This metallic taste brought back so many memories of his chastity cage, the rosary…and his blood.

You said you chose me…but in the end…you still left me.

Boom!