Page 107 of The Ghost of Rage's War

Drake glanced around in trepidation, though. He realised something was amiss, even if he couldn’t guess what. He looked healthy and…well… not like his physical body battling a code blue in the world we’d both left.

“A cliché, Elizabeth?” Drake asked with a grin as he got close.

“Beauty amidst the darkness.”

“That was the point, wasn’t it? Did they understand? The readers? That no matter how bleak the times get, there is always a tiny beacon flickering, leading themto the light. But they have to work for it, earn it, and once they find it, embrace it. That was your message, wasn’t it? Seek the beauty in life and cling fuckin’ tight to it,” Drake said astutely.

“You were mine, Drake.”

“Yeah, I understand that. Because no matter how much I fucked up, you always discovered a path forward. Didn’t deserve that,” Drake replied.

“I disagree; you deserved beauty.”

“So, this is it, my death?” Drake asked as he walked towards the small area I swung back and forth in. Long legs ate up the distance, and even now, Drake took my breath away.

Tears formed in my eyes at the beauty of the biker before me. I didn’t mean his looks; yes, he was gorgeous, but it was Drake’s inner spirit that had always captivated me.

“I can’t answer that,” I replied as Drake sat down at my feet as I swung back and forth.

“Don’t mess with me, Elizabeth. Honestly, I expected this.”

“Did you?” I asked, intrigued.

“Rage got clean but never paid the penance for our crimes in the past. I’m the payment for the dark times,” Drake said, picking a blade of grass.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen. You weren’t meant to be part of the balance. But even though I know the outcome because Fate spoke to me, I can’t say much.”

“Then what can you offer, Elizabeth?” Drake demanded, leaning elbows on his knees.

“You lived up to everything I hoped you’d be. You were my perfect ideal, and when things were dark, I guessed you’d find a way out. That as long as you were alive, there was hope and beauty, and you gave me that. You, Drake, offered a reason to believe again,” I whispered.

Drake sat back and contemplated my words. He reached out and took one of my hands, stroking the knuckles gently.

“You pouredhiminto me, just like you did James. As you did with most men in the Rage world. Everyone had some part ofhim,” Drake said. That wasn’t a question.

Briefly, I hated how Drake understood me as well as he did.

“Yes, but some of you, James, Chance, Magic, Inglorious, yourself, had more than a few aspects.”

“I’m honoured.” Drake meant that.

My heart shattered. Drake was so stoic about accepting this.

“You did me proud,” I admitted.

“Did I dohimproud?” Drake asked, holding my gaze.

I looked out over the flowers. It was rare I spoke of the man who’d loved me in spite of my faults. But all these years later,hismemory lived on in me and Drake, James, Inglorious, and everyone else.

“Yes. I think so.He’dhave laughed at your antics, that’s for sure.He’dhave even encouraged them.”

“Stubborn Irish bastard,” Drake said with a short laugh.

“Oh, definitely.” I agreed, smiling at happy memories.

“Where do I go from here, Elizabeth?” Drake inquired.

I sighed heavily. Straight to the point, typical Drake.

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