Page 100 of Wicked Salvation

Before I realize what I’m doing, I’ve crossed the room, sinking beside her into the couch. I crouch beside her—hesitant,careful not to touch, allowing her the space to shatter and rebuild on her own terms.

She lifts her face, bloodshot eyes searching mine desperately. “I don’t know who I am anymore,” she whispers, voice barely audible.

I can’t hold it in anymore.

Gently, I pull her close. She trembles against me, her skin cold and clammy. This close, I can feel each breath hacking its way up her lungs. Silent tears soak my neck where she’s rested her head.

“You’re Eden,” I whisper into her tangled hair, each word a gentle promise. “You’re eighteen. It’s totally fine to not know who you are. You’re supposed to spend this time figuring it out.”

She breaks again, crying until exhaustion silences her. Her weight shifts against me, going limp in my embrace. I wrap her in a blanket, and watch her slowly soften into sleep. She looks peaceful for the first time in forever.

Her lashes fan softly against bruised skin, lips slightly parted, chest rising and falling gently. Her fingers twitch occasionally, cold sweat beaded on her forehead. Even now, in devastation and silence, she holds the kind of fierce and tragic beauty that I find impossible to look away from.

She came tometonight, seeking shelter.

Maybe Tyne was right about it all. Maybe I don’t have to hold it all against her.

Leaning forward, I gently press my lips to her forehead, whispering softly into the silence. “I love you Eden, and I’ll be by your side forever and wherever you want to go.”

I hope it reaches her dreams, a gentle reassurance.

XXII

SILAS

Itake the steps two at a time.

Every step sounds louder than it should, the old stone echoing under my boots, but I don’t care. I shouldn’t be in the Girls’ Dormitory, but that’s the least of my worries. Half the school’s already talking about how my engagement party went up in smoke, about how the Peregrine-Ashfords “don’t even own their estate anymore.”

The one thing that kept Eden under my thumb—the physical part of our bond, as the Spirit ensured the metaphysical part was taken care of—no longer exists.

Money is the only thing that ever mattered.

That’s what she wanted.

That’s what her mother wanted.

That’s what kept her docile, what kept her coming back.

What kept her covering the fucking bruises whenever I lost my temper.

Now, I have no idea where the fuck she is. After she tossed the ring—one of the last things of value I had—into the dirty London streets and her father whisked her away, I lost track of her. That is, until some whispers told me her mother had sent her back to Augustine to sequester her away from the scandal.

Just like Viscountess Evelyn Lockhart to try and save face.

But her need to keep her family name free from stain has given me an opportunity to get Eden back. Ineedher back. Money or no money. I need her the same way I need air, I need her like the blood my heart pumps through my veins.

So I drove all the way here to find her.

The door to her dorm is cracked open. Just enough. Just enough to test me. I push it all the way with my knuckles, hoping to find her there—crying, sleeping,something.

Instead, there’s only Anastazya.

She sits up on the bed quickly, her eyes wide. She blinks quickly, but she doesn’t speak. She knows not to speak first in my presence. My title might be empty, but it’s a title nonetheless.

I close the door behind me, letting the click echo like a coffin lid.

“Where is she?” I ask.