Page 124 of Scarred

My nostrils flare as I grip her face in my hands, my eyes soaking up her features as I rest my forehead against hers. “You are not allowed to die. Do you hear me? Iwillcome back for you.”

Her lip trembles. “I know.”

I pull her close when she tries to turn away, pressing her lips to mine one last time. “If something happens, know that I will find you in every lifetime, Sara Beatreaux. You are mine, and not even death can keep you from me.”

She muffles a sob and shoves at my chest, and I turn and run, sprinting toward the tunnels.

CHAPTER53

Tristan

It had to be me.

As much as I wanted to sacrifice myself and let her flee in my place, it had to be me. No one knows the tunnels as well as I do. No one else could have gotten Simon out in time. The military pressed in on the rebels from all angles, and when they were pressured, they panicked, creating a human stampede. I felt the rumbles on the tunnel floors as I sprinted through them, fighting the fatigue and the unbearable pain of my tortured body. I heard the screams as they echoed off the stone walls, people crying as gunshots were fired and people pled for their lives.

But I found him, his arms wrapped around Paul, his leg bent and broken and tear tracks on his face, his mother lying trampled at their feet.

“You came,” he whispered. “Just like you promised.”

So how could I turn around then? Even if everything in me was screaming to go back to where I left my heart, I grabbed Simon and Paul instead, and I set them free, banishing them from Gloria Terra.

To keep them safe.

It’s been three days since, and while my body is sore but healing, my mind is a gutter of a place to live. Michael is taunting me with Sara’s captivity. But at least she’s alive.

He has publicly stated if I give myself up, turn myself in, he’ll let her go.

I’m now an official outlaw. And all the while, people of Saxum are none the wiser to the truth of what happened. They have no clue people are lying dead in the underground tunnels, their bodies decomposing, and their children crying as they search for their missing parents.

I could pretend if I tried, could put on a mask and weep for those we’ve lost. But I’m tired of playing games, and the only thing I care for is holding Sara in my arms. Until I have her back, nothing else matters.

Besides, out of the grief from those we’ve lost comes fury.

And my people arefurious.

Edward heaves a deep sigh as he grabs the joint from my hand and puffs on the end, leaning against the brick wall behind the patisserie in downtown Saxum. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

I cut him a glare. “If I don’t, then all of your hard work over the past few days is for naught.”

Where I’ve been healing with tinctures and potions to speed my recovery, Edward has been busy whispering words in his soldier’s ears. Swaying them to our side. Making sure they know just who it is that they serve. Gathering our forces from every corner and laying out our plans.

“You should take Sheina and leave town,” I say. “You’ve served me well, Edward. I don’t wish to see you both perish.”

He grits his teeth, shaking his head. “Our loyalty is to you.”

“Loyalty means shit,” I hiss. “I am trying to spare you, Edward. You’re my only friend, and the only one who has stood by me through it all. Please, take this gift and let me do this on my own.”

“With all due respect, Your Highness.” He straightens. “I’m not leaving until you’re either dead or wearing the crown.”

Clenching my jaw, I nod, peeking around the corner and seeing there’s about a dozen military men laughing and walking into the town’s bar. Right on cue. “Are you ready then?” I turn toward him.

“Let’s burn it down.”

I smirk, grabbing the joint back from his fingers and slipping it in my mouth as I move to the bar across the street. I slam open the green double doors with my boot, the thick wood hitting the walls as I step inside. There’s about a dozen people here, most of them the king’s military, and all of them with fresh drinks in their hand.

I smile as they turn toward me, my insides feeling empty except for the burning flame of determination. “Hello.”

A man at the front of the bar stands, his black stool spinning in place behind him. He creeps his arm toward his waist, reaching toward his weapon.