Page 86 of While He Breathes

He can’t be gone.

I never got to tell him I love him.

I never got to tell him I wanted a life with him. I wanted to look for a house that would be our home. I wanted to find my place in his empire.

I wanted it all. I was just too stubborn to tell him when I had the chance.

I’m not sure how it happens, but I find myself on the ground, my hand covering my mouth as rough sobs tear from my throat painfully, but the phone is still in my hand, replaying my worst nightmare over and over again.

My last thought as despair drags me under isn’t that there’s no one left to save me, but I don’t think I want to be saved.

Not if it means living a life without the man I love.

CHAPTER FIFTY

EMBER

Ithought I knew grief.

Losing Travis hurt so badly, I didn’t think anything could ever compare.

But this is worse.

It hurts to breathe. To think. To open my eyes.

It all hurts so much, and I just want it all to go away. How am I supposed to live without him?

At first, guilt eats away at me.

Why does it hurt more to lose the man who killed my brother than it did to lose Travis, the only person who ever loved me?

But then it hits me.

Travis was my brother. He was family. I never had a choice in loving him.

But I did with Orion. I had a choice to trust him. I had a choice to fall in love. And I had a choice to forgive him for his sins.

And despite myself, I chose to do all those things.

I have no way of knowing how much time has passed since Lucas came back to take the phone from me, but he overestimates my want to escape.

The only thing the outside world offers is more pain and the reality of losing the man I gave my heart to, even when I shouldn’t have.

When the door swings open again, I don’t bother looking up. What’s the point?

It’s just Lucas coming in to taunt me some more, or someone delivering food I have no intention of eating.

A hunger strike had briefly crossed my mind before, but I decided I needed to keep my strength up. Now that I don’t care about escaping, eating seems unnecessary, and I can’t see myself being able to keep anything down as the explosion plays on a loop behind my eyelids.

“Get up,” Cain barks, but I don’t move. I remain perfectly still on the concrete in the middle of the room, my blanket long forgotten.

A sharp pain explodes in my ribs, but even a hard kick isn’t enough to drag my body back to the land of the living.

I’m existing in the abyss of grief right now, and I doubt there’s much that could drag me out right now.

Fingers thread into the hair on the top of my head, and I’m dragged to my feet, red hot agony searing through my scalp, but still, I don’t really notice it.

It’s nothing compared to what’s raging inside my chest, so it seems inconsequential.