Page 164 of Ashes of Honor

“No.” I choked on tears and the memories we would never share.

Abel stepped closer. “I can’t feel her anymore.”

The bond between us—that magic string that tethered my family together—was not broken. It was strained.Yes. It could be fixed. They could not feel her, but I could.

“I can.”

“Alexi—” Abel began.

“I said I can!” I snapped, the words tearing from my throat. “Get away from me.”

Abel froze, his face contorting as if he couldn’t piece together what I’d said. His confusion was an insult. Riley stood there staring into the crater—hollow-eyed and useless, like his mind had snapped and he was leaving me to drown in this hell alone.

He stepped back, their faces painted with the sorrow of great loss, and I hated them for it. How could they give up on her so easily? So early? Amaia would never give up on us. Not even for a second. She would crawl through fire, tear the world apart if it meant there was even a fraction of a chance to save us.

“She’s gone.” Millie’s voice cut through the silence. Her gaze flicked to Abel and something passed between them. Something I wanted to ignore. “And she’s not coming back.”

Tomoe

No matter where I looked, her path was set. Final.

Riley

Ifailed. I failed. I failed. I failed. I failed. I failed. I failed. I failed. I failed. I failed. I failed. The words pounded in my skull, each repetition louder, harder, angrier. Screaming, shaking, demanded my attention until it wasn’t just a thought—it was a roar.

I failed. I failed. I failed.

My fists were clenched so tight, I could no longer feel my fingers. I tasted nothing but iron. My chest heaved, breath short but useless. No amount of air could make up for the loss of the person who’d kept me breathing for years.

I failed. I failed. I failed. I failed. I failed. I failed. I failed. I failed. I failed. I failed. I failed. I failed. I failed. I failed. I failed. I failed. I failed. I failed. I failed. I failed. I failed. I failed.

I failed.

I failed.

Amaia was dead.

Dead. I couldn’t stop hearing it, couldn’t stop seeing her—the way she’d fallen to her knees, the light in her eyes dimming as she let go, slipped into another mind space in order to let go. To make it easier to release her power when she did not want to say goodbye. Because there were no goodbyes. Not in this family. Not betweenus.

Together.That’s what I’d said. What I’d promised.

Always together.

I was supposed to have her six. At all times. That was my role. That was my job.

And I failed.

I failed her. I failed her when it mattered most.

My knees hit the asphalt with a crack, but I didn’t feel it. Pain didn’t register—nothing did. Not Alexiares losing control. Not Millie dragging a tearful Reina back, preventing her from further fueling Alexiares’s rage and fire. Not Tomoe as she gave way to Wrath, swinging it down, cutting through any and every adult she could find as she made her way to Reina, calling desperately for Millie to get her over here, to help before Tomás died. Not Abel shaking me. Begging me to get up. The snot dripping down his face made him appear every bit the sixteen-year-old I’d found hiding in what had become our home and not the twenty-year-old he was now.

There was no reality except the gaping hole in my heart, my chest, where she used to be.

My hands buried themselves in my locs, yanking hard, as though I could pull myself out of this God forsaken nightmare.But the images flashing through my mind would not stop. Her face, her voice, the feeling of her hand in mine when we’d said goodbye without uttering such words. I wish I could go back, to tell her everything I hadn’t. To tell her I loved her and I would take care of our home if she could not. That she could trust me to not fail her this one last and final time.

“I was supposed to protect her,” I whispered.

She’s gone.

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