Page 97 of Torn

Merry’s subsequent response is carnal. Pain flares along her ligaments and jars up her bones.

Gracious, she’d meant to be the valiant heroine. She’d meant to either rescue the star-crossed lovers or perish in the attempt.

It’s going to be the latter. She’s certainly going to expire.

Her profile thwacks the stone floor. She hears the board crash and then clamor across the ground. The cellar, which had been rife with death-defying conflict, goes silent. Every shout vacuums into her ears and vanishes.

Then the world bursts into a cacophony of sound again, footsteps thundering toward her, a treble of high-pitched noise, and the gust of her name. She knows that gruff voice. Better yet, she knows that desperate touch, those palms calloused by his bow.

Those hands cup her face, encase her in fingerless gloves. He steers her head toward his. A sterling hoop sways from one lobe, an earring stud winks from the other, and petrified eyes gawk at her.

This is a pivotal scene, isn’t it? When true love conquers all?

She has made a formidable effort to defeat the villain. Has she succeeded? Are Love and Andrew safe? Is Malice burning in infamy? And why is her body screaming?

“Merry,” Anger says, his words tumbling into the stratosphere of her cranium. “Merry!”

Is he resentful, or miffed, or worried? It sounds like all of the above. This god is incapable of limiting himself to one ferocious reaction. Sigh, he overcomplicates things that way.

When she slurs his name, a whoosh of relief spills from his chest. She doesn’t know why he’s thrilled, when her muscles are battered, and his olive skin has gone pale. “You look a fright,” she says. “Is it storming outside?”

It takes him a while to speak, his irises trembling. “No…No, I see nothing but light.”

“I see stars, but not the festive kind.” She refocuses, while he runs his hands all over her, like she might burn out and disappear. “On second thought, there’s one thrashing star that’s nice to look at. Hi, my soul mate.”

He whispers back, “Hi, my hero.”

“So it’s true? Did I save the day?”

Anger smiles wanly. “A long time ago.”

Merry should loathe him for coercing her heart. Part of her does, a fractured part, a wounded part. But it doesn’t stop her from loving him, the good and bad of him.

And she’s not faultless. She had been planning the same thing as Anger, albeit without aiming to hurt him.

His face crumples. “Merry, I…”

“I know,” she says. “I know.”

A blonde beacon appears, its puffy-cheeked countenance crinkling like a piece of popcorn. “Dearest.” Wonder pushes Merry’s hair out of her face. “You’re alive.”

Anger helps Merry to sit up while Wonder crouches on the opposite side. Consciousness knits itself back together, the details regaining clarity. Their trio must have been talking in slow motion, but everything clicks and speeds up.

She sees the arrow meant for Love and Andrew lodged into her skateboard, which rests sideways on the ground. Merry must have blocked it and then crashed. The cumulative throb in her joints is from the landing.

Andrew yanks the restraints off his girlfriend while yelling, “What the fuck!” because neither of them knows what just happened. Their perception had been limited to Love’s levitating bow—manipulated by Malice—and the firing squad of her arrows.

Andrew wraps Love in a fierce hug, both of them shaking.

Snowy hair and raven hair. White dress and black coat.

They’re a resilient couple, recovering swiftly. Having anticipated it, Andrew holds Love back just before she leaps, her arms flailing, her fingernails scratching at nothing, trying to attack the room. She hadn’t seen anything, but she’d seen enough to comprehend that they’re not alone.

“Let me at ’em!” she barks.

Her boyfriend is quick to believe as well, scanning the area in flummoxed curiosity. Yet that doesn’t deter him from snatching Love with one hand and her fallen weaponry with the other, then hauling her out of the vault to safety.

As her mutinous yips echo from the stairwell, Anger grunts. “Some things never change.” He transfers his gaze back to Merry, his features softening.

---