Page 118 of Ashes of Honor

Luna didn’t know. Couldn’t know how far I’d already gone, how much of myself I’d already burned away in my obsession to see this through. The only person that knew how far I was willing to go to protect what I loved was me. And by the time they all figured it out, it would simply be too late.

She didn’t understand, and she didn’t need to. Luna wasn’t carrying the weight of a million lives on her shoulders. She hadn’t been forced to step into Prescott’s shoes when he’d died and left me to clean up the mess. No. She volunteered. She had not been forced or had expectations thrust upon her. She, like most of the people here, had the option of sacrificing their souls within a level of comfortability. No one expected anyone to doanything, except me.

But that wasn’t fair.

Lunahadlost everything. She’d lost Prescott—the love of her life. Her grief didn’t resemble mine; it was sharper, heavier. Yet she bore it differently. Silently. She possessed the gift of a quiet strength that was almost unbearable to witness.

I hadn’t let myself be angry—not at Prescott. But it simmered beneath the surface, threatening to boil over, an ache I’d buried so deep it had grown roots.

He’d left me. Prescott fucking left me. This washisplace. Jax’s place. Not mine. This had never been my fucking dream. It was theirs. This was all fuckingtheirs…

And here I was.

Alive.

Alone.

And left with the weight of making sure this place stood even though they did not.

Then the guilt hit. None of this was their choice, either. If they could be here—they would be. And if either of them had this power, were in my position, then they wouldn’t be victimizing their losses, they’d weaponize them. Use it to fuel them to set the world right once more.

The thing was, I didn’t know how. I was lost without them. Jax had always seen the good in me, encouraged it, fed that hopeful version of myself. And Prescott … he had been everything I was not. Wise. Strong. A natural born leader—an ambitious one with dreams he refused to limit. He always knew what to do, and I followed with my own judgment in mind. Now it was all up to me.

Amaia Bennett. The twenty-eight-year-old woman who was on the cusp of losing her damn mind.All without a drink. Ha.

“I’ll try,” I said finally, the words heavy in my mouth.

She gave me a small, knowing smile and pulled a red leather book from her pack.

“This is for you.”

I blinked, picking it up and flipping it open. Recognition struck like a punch—I knew that handwriting.

“Luna, what is this?” My voice cracked.

“It’s Prescott’s,” she said softly. “This is for you, and you alone.”

I flipped through the pages, my vision blurring. He’d written to me every day since we’d decided to make Monterey a home. Every single day.

“There’s more.” Luna pulled out another stack of journals from her pack.

I searched for the newest one, my hands trembling with such violence that I could barely turn the pages. When I finally found it—his final entry—something inside me broke. Tears blurred my vision, spilling freely down my face as I traced the date with my fingertips.

The day he died.

A choked sob escaped before I could stop it. His love crashing over me like a tidal wave. I pressed the journal to my chest and clutched it tight as though I were offering him one last hug. A redo of the one I’d given him the morning I’d set off for Duluth. If I could go back in time, I’d hold on tighter, for a half a second longer.

The capacity to hold it all together no longer existed. I broke. Not silently. Not loudly. But simple, unrelenting grief that broke me as I clung to the pieces of us that I thought I’d lost forever—though I’d never known to search in the first place.

“Thank you,” I whispered, my voice barely audible as I turned toward Luna and leaned into her.

“Now,” Luna said softly but firmly, her hand rubbing my arm before she pulled back. “No more tears. Now that I have you, let’s talk shop so we’re all ready for yourtemporaryabsence.”

“Ma’am, yes, ma’am.”

The plans were already set: once we left, Monterey Compound would go into permanent lockdown until the rest of the troops returned. A skeleton crew would stay behind, Ramona and a small cavalry unit on patrol, enough to mount a defense if needed. But if holding the walls became impossible, their orders were clear—fall back and retreat. The bunker is where they’d make their last stand.

“When you return,” Luna began, her tone serious as she locked eyes with me, “which you will, you need to decide what the future will look like.”

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