Page 108 of Monsters Carve Thrones

I dropped to my knees in front of her, hands trembling. “I love you so much,” I said, my voice barely holding steady.

A single tear slipped down her cheek. “I love you too,” she whispered. “I held on for you. But I wanted to die.”

My eyes burned. I reached up, cradling her face in both hands, my thumbs brushing away the tears as they fell. “I did, too,” I said.

She leaned into my touch. No flinch. No hesitation. Just… trust.

I kissed her forehead. Her temple. The tip of her nose. Then I stood and gave her space. She pulled her legs up onto the bed, curling into the sheets like she finally remembered what it was like to be human again. I knew what Waylon had done to her. I knew how many nights she’d had to survive in silence, in pain, in fear.

I wouldn’t push her.

Even though every part of me ached to hold her and feel her close. I wouldn’t let my need to be close become her burden. I went into the bathroom, peeling off my bloodied pants, stepping under the shower’s sting until it washed the night from my skin. But it couldn’t wash the ache from my heart.

When I stepped back out, drying off quickly and throwing on sweats, I looked up and saw her fast asleep. Soft and still and breathing deeply, curled on her side in the middle of the bed.

I stood there for a long moment, hand on the bathroom doorframe.

Then I walked over and carefully slid in beside her.

She didn’t stir.

I faced her, watching her in the dark, memorizing every line of her face.

She was here.I finally let the exhaustion take me, slipping one arm gently around her waist and resting my forehead against her shoulder. And for the first time in months, the tears came without resistance. I didn’t sob. I didn’t choke. I just… cried.

***

ADELA

I woke in the middle of the night to warmth. A heavy arm draped over my waist. A chest pressed against my back. His breath was slow and even, fanning over the back of my neck.

For a moment, I didn’t move. I didn’t know where I was. My body tensed. But then I felt something achingly familiar. Scarred knuckles brushed lightly against my stomach with each breath. That scent...faint cologne and gunpowder and something that had always, always made me feel safe.

Rafe.

My throat tightened. It all came rushing back like a flood–bloody hands, guttural screams, the importance of survival, and the relief so sharp it had dropped me to my knees.

He came for me.

Hefoundme.

We killed our way out together.

I blinked up at the ceiling, my eyes adjusting to the soft shadows. The bed was warm, the sheets tangled around our legs. His body was pressed to mine just like any other night we’d spent together, like any of our“normal”nights back home.

I swallowed hard past the lump in my throat, my fingers brushing over the hand he had resting on me.

God.I loved him.

The weight of it slammed into me, cracking open something that had been locked away in all those nights I spent in a concrete room. All I’d wanted was this.Him.

And now he was here, holding me, breathing me in, resting beside me. I let out a slow breath, grounding myself in the sound of his heartbeat, where my back pressed against his chest.

I must’ve gone into shock earlier. Or maybe something like it. I barely remembered crawling into this bed. I barely remembered sleeping. I must have showered? I was wearing clean clothes. I glanced down and saw the loose-fitting, soft blue shirt that I’d stolen from Laura on more than one occasion. How kind of her to give it to me now…

I turned my face toward the window, finding the moon just beyond the glass. Pale and full, pouring silver light over the bed. It painted him in muted hues. It touched his brow, his jaw, and the edges of his lashes.

Mine.My monster, my nightmare, looking so soft in sleep.