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DEXTER

P andora’s matebond had been lighter ever since her encounter in the bathroom with Sabine’s daughter. At first, I was almost certain my poor mate had walked in on the basilisk committing suicide by poison, and I’d been prepared to help. But I was relieved that wasn’t the case, and I was, in fact, not needed. Still, something inside my mate had shifted with Nebula’s death, and though she hadn’t said much about it, I could feel the weight pressing on her shoulders.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t the only one carrying so much.

My chest ached as my shadows dissipated from around Pandora, Bram, Skel, Reed, Hunter, and myself.

We stepped onto the rolling dunes in the middle of fucking nowhere, the same place I had given Selene a send-off all by myself after she’d died. The Shadowhearts hadn’t given a shit about giving her a proper farewell. They couldn’t be bothered. They’d wanted to toss her body in the corner of our closet and forget she ever existed. But I couldn’t let that happen to her—I wouldn’t.

That night was the first night I’d ever shadow-traveled. Mother had found me the next morning. I was punished thoroughly, but it’d been worth it to be able to send off my sister properly so her soul could rest.

The sun dipped beneath the horizon, bleeding fiery reds and deep purples across the sky, but all I could see was the grainy sand swallowing my knees as I sank down.

A sob tore from my throat, raw and guttural, as I let loose pain I had kept locked away for far too fucking long. “I did it,” I gasped, staring at the empty space where Selene’s body had once lain before she turned to ash with the demonic incantation I’d uttered on instinct. “My mate—you’d love her. We did it together. Poppy and Rod are both dead, and I renounced our last name for us both, Selene.”

The wind howled, whipping around me as if the desert itself could feel my agony. I liked to think it was Selene herself. Tears tracked hot down my cheeks, mixing with the grit of the sand as I clenched my fists.

Pandora’s arms came around me from behind, her warmth pressing into my back. Her caramel scent tightened around me.

Fucking Fates, she was a balm to my shattered soul.

“Oh, Dex,” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. “She would be so proud of you.”

“This is where I sent Selene off,” I croaked before carefully touching the sand where she had once laid. “I’m sorry. It’s my first time being here since then. I held so much guilt for you dying for me. But now—now, I can stand before you, finally.” My chest shuddered as I exhaled. “That piece of shit cult and their leader? Dead. And apparently, I’m the fucking shadow demon representative of the Supernatural Council now. Don’t know if you’d laugh or roll your eyes at that, but no matter.”

The silence stretched between us all, but it wasn’t empty—it was thick, pulsing with the weight of my grief.

Bram stepped forward, his red eyes gleaming in the twilight. He crouched beside me and ran a hand down his face. “Grief lingers in the chambers of our demonic hearts. It will never go away, but you’ll get used to the pain eventually,” he said. “You don’t have to carry the pain alone, Dex. Not anymore. Now that you’ve faced it, you can start to heal.”

I sucked in a breath, blinking rapidly. “Fuck, Bram. That was sweet.”

He shrugged, his lips curving a smirk. “I am a poet.”

Another chuckle burst from my lips. “Guess so.”

Hunter knelt on my other side. His hand found my shoulder, and the support was enough to make me want to crumble. “You’re allowed to let this pain of losing your sister go, piece by piece,” he said. “It doesn’t mean forgetting her, Dexter. It means living for her.”

“Dude, I don’t know much about helping ease the pain, but you’ve been a great second-brother to my sister. I know Selene would’ve loved who you turned out to be,” Skel murmured. “You’re family to us, Dex.”

“You’re a good soul,” Reed said. “That’s enough to be proud of.”

Something in me cracked, not in the agonizing way it had when I’d watched Selene get killed, but in a way that let healing seep through.

“So much to be proud of,” Pandora whispered in my ear.

A broken, bitter chuckle slipped from my lips. “I’ll honor your memory forever...I’ve avenged you properly,” I whispered to my sister, hoping she could hear me wherever she was in the afterlife. “I love you, and I promise to live the life you wanted me to have.”

For the first time in years, I let myself grieve without restraint. And for the first time, I felt the healing begin. I was allowed a raw moment to grieve—and I hadn’t even known how badly I needed it.