Page 44

ELIAS

S he's slipping away in my arms, and there’s nothing I can fucking do.

Then… she’s gone.

Kaia’s blood soaks my hands, sticky and hot, the scent of it a drum in my head.

I press my forehead to hers, my chest splitting wide open.

“ No, ” I growl, voice shredded from the inside out. “You’re not fucking doing this, Kaia. You’re not leaving me. You hear me? You don’t get to leave me!”

A sharp bootstep echoes, then another.

I lift my head, every fucking cell in my body howling for blood.

Jareth stands there, covered in Kaia’s blood, breathing like he just won the fucking war. His blade gleams, dripping. His mouth twists into a satisfied sneer.

"She made her choice," he says coldly, like Kaia’s life is some goddamn chess piece he just knocked off the board.

The last sliver of my control shatters.

I lay Kaia gently down, brushing her blood-matted curls back from her forehead. I kiss her temple. A promise. A prayer. A fucking death warrant.

And then I rise.

My hands are claws. My blood sings with murder.

Jareth doesn't even have time to lift his blade.

I’m on him, pure rage, pure need to destroy—my body shifting halfway between man and monster. Fangs shred through my gums. My nails turn to talons.

He swings the dagger, but I duck low and crash into him like a freight train, sending him flying back into the crumbling wall.

The fucker actually laughs—a broken, bitter thing.

"You think you’re better than me, hybrid trash?" he spits. Blood drips from his mouth. "You're just another mistake."

"Yeah?" I snarl, stalking closer.

He tries to run.

Tries.

I slam him against the stone, feel the crack of bone under my grip. My claws sink deep into his throat, squeezing, cutting. He struggles—kicking, punching—but he’s nothing now. Just a scared, hollow man.

"You killed the only good thing you ever had," I snarl into his face, voice low and shaking with fury. "You don't deserve to breathe her air."

And then I rip .

Blood gushes in a hot arc across my chest, but I don’t feel it. I don't feel anything but the roar in my skull.

Jareth’s body crumples to the floor, lifeless, useless. Exactly what he made Kaia believe she was.

I stagger back, panting, the blood dripping from my claws, my fangs still bared.

But none of it matters.

I turn.

Kaia lies there, motionless, her hand limp against the cold ground.

" No, " I rasp, crawling back to her, scooping her up, cradling her like something precious and already broken. " No, no, no. "

Her skin is too pale.

Her heartbeat is non-existent.

I press my face into her hair, rocking her, begging— pleading —with whatever gods still listen to monsters like me.

"Come on," I whisper against her forehead. "You fight me on everything else. Fight me on this."

I feel the ragged edge of despair sink its teeth into me.

Through the chaos, through the blinding, screaming agony inside me—I remember.

The forbidden ritual.

The one I was about to use before her father. Before he took everything from me.

This is the choice.

I pull Kaia tighter against me, wrapping us both in the blood-soaked cloak of my magic.

I slice my palm open with one claw, pressing the bleeding wound to her heart. The words spill out of me in a rough chant—ancient, ugly syllables not meant for mortal tongues. My blood shivers. The ground hums under us.

The price is immediate.

Pain slices through me, black and blinding. Like something vital is tearing loose, shredding from bone and soul.

I grit my teeth and give it anyway .

Give her everything.

The last words leave me in a broken growl. I collapse over her, my blood smeared across her skin, seeping into the wound over her chest.

My vision blurs.

Everything is slipping away.

" Kaia, " I whisper hoarsely, the last word I might ever speak. "Come back to me. Please."

I brush her hair back, trembling so bad my fingers barely obey.

Silence.

Suddenly, a gasp.

A stuttering, desperate inhale.

Kaia arches beneath me, her hands clutching weakly at my shirt, her mouth dragging in sweet, ragged life .

I choke out a sob, folding her tighter against me, burying my face in her neck, feeling the pulse there hammer back to life.

She shoots straight up, taking in her surroundings and new life.

She’s alive.

She’s alive.

But the cost, I feel it already.

The hollow inside me where a part of my soul used to be.

I don't give a fuck.

She’s breathing.

And I’d trade every piece of myself a thousand times over if it meant I still get to hear her heartbeat against mine.