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WES

October—Present Day

I t was over. I had failed her. I had failed her, and she was going to die.

I swept my hand across the dresser, sending everything to the floor. I kicked over the wingback chair. Tore the pillow in half. Ripped the tapestries from the walls. Punched the mirror in the bathroom, splintering the image in its reflection.

And I cried.

I cried, and I hadn’t cried since I was a kid, since the first time I saw my father hit my mother.

He never hit Chase or me, but he always hit her.

I didn’t know that was what happened behind their closed doors.

That when he was angry at me for something stupid I had done, he would take it out on her.

And when I finally figured it out, when I finally realized that every idiotic, defiant, oppositional thing I did translated into my mother getting hit, I cried.

I cried because my desire to stand up to my father only ever caused my mother more pain.

Chase didn’t do that. Chase didn’t cause my mother to cry, to weep, to curl in a corner and sob.

Chase followed orders.

A reputable citizen.

A beloved son.

The only one that ever mattered…all because he did as he was told.

Chase didn’t hurt my mother—I did. Because of me, she always suffered.

And I cried until I couldn’t cry anymore.

And then I became stone.

Stone was strong, heavy, rigid, firm. Stone didn’t bend, didn’t buckle, didn’t cave. Stone withstood fire, stayed true against the wind, was unyielding against water.

I became stone.

And I remained stone for years. I trained my eyes to stay silent. Forced them to never shed another tear. And I walled up my emotions behind a fortress of granite that refused to give under the pressures of the world.

I was stone.

And I demanded to take the beatings he would give her.

I offered myself as a sacrifice, trying to protect her from him.

Because if Romeo wasn’t coming, then at least I could try.

At least I could be the face that took the hit, the rock that stood up against the monster hiding within our castle walls.

But it was never like Mara. The first time I caught a glimpse of her scars, I felt a surge of hate and malice and magma in my blood.

Because Mara’s family left her marked, torn, and broken.

Physical representations. A reminder of the value they placed upon her.

A way for her to always remember that she was at their mercy and nothing more than a dog to be beaten.

But she was so much more than that. She was the world made to feel inconsequential.

And it broke me to know that she couldn’t see herself as the goddess she really was, all because her family left their bloody stains upon her skin .

That wasn’t the case in my house. No matter how many strikes I resisted, modern medicine worked magic.

Healed torn flesh under the cover of darkness.

Erased skin of mottled bruising. Vanquished scars and blemishes and disfigurements, wiping them from existence.

Because a king had to be invincible. A queen had to be pure perfection.

And a prince had to be the exquisite younger version of his sire.

Because a blemished royal family represented a weakened ruling court.

A region that could easily be broken. A faction that could easily crumble.

And so I became igneous rock.

I became marble and quartzite and granite.

I became stone…

Until I wasn’t stone anymore.

Until a pair of deep brown eyes crashed tidal waves against my walls of rock.

Until a smile and a laugh and the sound of her voice lacerated my battlements, tore away at my turrets, and a pair of lips forced themselves beyond my carefully crafted walls.

And stone gave way and became nothing more than the supple petals of a fresh white rose worshiping dewdrops at dawn.

But roses couldn’t fight monsters.

Petals couldn’t protect the ones they loved.

And I was nothing in the face of all the terrors of this world. Because I was in the dark facing demons and devils and witches and ghouls and all of the monstrosities of the earth alone.

I was nothing. Had nothing. Was left with nothing. Could do nothing. And I was going to lose her at the end of it all.

I cried because I couldn’t save her, couldn’t stop the reaper at her door, and now I understood why Romeo took the poison when he thought Juliet was no more. Because the anguish of having love and losing love and feeling your heart break was worse than anyone could ever, ever take .

I dropped to my knees, my hands in my hair. And I cried. I cried out in anguish and frustration and agony and heartache, and I felt so broken inside.

Because I had failed. I had failed to protect her, to save her.

And in the end, I didn’t care that she wasn’t mine anymore.

She could have whoever she wanted, be with whoever she wanted, marry whoever she wanted so long as she survived.

Because I would rather she breathe and laugh and smile and kiss somewhere in this world than be gone, ceasing to exist.

I cried.

And I cried.

And I cried until there was nothing left inside of me.

I dragged my hands over my face, wrapped them around the back of my neck, and stared up at the ceiling.

I breathed, feeling my chest ache, feeling my body tremble with fatigue.

And then I tipped my chin to my chest as my hand drew down to the chain around my neck, to the dog tags, to her ring.

Her ring.

A tiny circle of platinum. A single canary diamond resting between two small white gems.

Her ring.

She was mine once until she wasn’t.

And all she left me with was the most cryptic message ever: it’s not what it seems .

I closed my eyes, pressing my fingers into the stone.

It’s not what it seems.

I wanted so desperately to know what it meant.

To know what she wanted to tell me. Because her eyes sang to me that day.

They told me that there was more, so much more, but I didn’t know what that more was.

And I was afraid to trust, to believe, to dare to hope again because hope was a painful thing. A deadly thing .

And then she shot me in the heart. Then she was gone until she wasn’t. And then she was captive, held hostage, and now she was going to disappear forever.

She wants you. She picked you…

She loves you, Wes.

That’s what Matias said when he begged me to help him save her. Yelled at me, demanding that I do something to rescue her. But he didn’t have to beg. He didn’t have to yell. He didn’t have to come posturing and making demands.

Because I would have tried to save her anyhow.

Because I would always try to save her, no matter the odds.

I snuck into Telvia, into the goddamn Presidential Palace, to save her.

I fought hellhounds, took bullets, wrestled mountain lions, and climbed sheer cliffs, all for her in the end.

And I plunged to my death, fought the ocean for her life, and I would always do everything in my power to save her.

And my fucking god, I’ll be damned if I failed her now. Because I’d rather die trying than live the rest of my life knowing I forsook her.

Because I was too rough, too crass, too brass, too bold, and I didn’t give a fuck if I was just a replica of a better man.

Because I was gasoline and kerosene and TNT and nitroglycerin and everything else that exploded in this world.

I was a tornado and a hurricane and a tidal wave and a volcano and everything that brought down destruction on this earth.

Because I was done with my father destroying and hurting the things I cared about most. And I was done pretending to be Chase, to fill shoes that were never meant for me.

Because I might have been a replica of a better man, but that man didn’t have the guts to do what needed to be done. He submitted, and he caved, and he cowered, and he gave, and I refused to let myself surrender before I ever even tried.

Because tonight I was going to save Juliet, and god help anyone who got in my way .

Because I was firm.

I was rigid.

I was strong.

I was stone.

I was Wes.

And I caved to no one.