Page 165 of Ashes of Honor

Gone.

I doubled over, forehead pressing against the crumbling, battle-stricken ground, trying to find some anchor—anything to hold on to in this spiraling darkness.

Nothing.

Amaia was my anchor. My tether. One of the few nonnegotiable things I could not lose and still keep my sanity.

But she’s gone.

A broken sound escaped my throat, raw and uncontrollable. My shoulders shook and instead of fighting it the way I had for years, I let it happen. I let myself break. Because without Amaia, I didn’t know how to stay whole.

Elie

The world shook when she was gone. I felt it from 2,847.5 miles away.

I’d run through Amaia’s route every day for the last three months, committing every turn, landmark, and detour to memory. I could make the journey myself with my eyes closed, hands tied behind my back. But now … now, it didn’t matter.

Time stood still inside the bunker. It was as they all knew it too. Forty-thousand people underground, and you could hear a pin drop—but I was the only one with the bond to feel the loss. Harley and Suckerpunch could only whimper at my feet in supportive despair.

This place was a tomb carved into the earth. It’d been our entire world for months. The harsh hum of the air filtration system never ceased, and the low, constant buzz of chatter filled the background. It wasn’t a home, it was a fortress. Every corridor was the same—gray, harsh, and functional. No amount of repurposing of spaces and makeshift homes from abandoned storage bays could create a pocket of warmth.

My seventeenth birthday came and went inside this steel, cold cage. Three months since I’d seen consistent sunlight aside from what trickled through the cracks of the door during weekly rotations of soldiers swapping from inside to out.

Rex was out there somewhere along the coast—stationed with the remnants of our navy. I hadn’t seen him since the bunker doors shut the day the troops left. The only trace of him came during shift changes—letters slipped into my hand from Caleb like contraband.

No letters had ever come from Amaia. Not that it was possible. I didn’t need them, not when I could feel her inhere. In my soul. Guilt ate at me day in and day out for the time I’d wasted on punishing her for things outside of her control. Every choice she made was calculated, every step deliberate. I wanted to be like that—strong enough to carry the weight of the world without breaking.

The thought of her gone didn’t just feel wrong; it feltimpossible. Amaia didn’t lose. She couldn’t.

Still, I couldn’t stop watching the door, willing it to open and prove me wrong.

A gentle hand rested on my shoulder, pulling me out of my thoughts. Luna.

“What’s wrong?” Yasmin’s voice followed, her hands absently rubbing her rounded belly.

I glanced between them, words catching in my throat. How could I explain something I didn’t fully understand? And yet,deep down, I knew. There had been a release from within my chest, an untying of a small fishers knot, that offered a sense of permanent absence. “The world just got a whole lot darker.”

Caleb rounded the corner, his floppy blond hair bounced as he walked. His poker face was terrible. Something was happening, and it had nothing to do with Amaia—or maybe it did.

“Ronan’s dead,” he said, voice heavy with disbelief.

Luna’s posture faltered beside me. “She did it …” she whispered.

“How can you be sure?” Yasmin’s voice cracked as she spoke, her arms wrapping protectively around her stomach. “Is Riley …”

“I don’t have that detailed of a report.” Caleb hesitated as to not upset the pregnant woman. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Our walls are under siege again—his troops are retaliating.”

“Amaia is dead too.” The words left my mouth before I could stop them. I turned to face them, my stomach twisting into a knot I couldn’t untangle.

“What?” Yasmin’s voice sliced through the air, trembling. But her worry wasn’t for Amaia. It was for Riley. It was always Riley.

“Oh, please,” I snapped, unable to hold it in. “Don’t pretend you care.”

“Don’t say that,” Luna said, her hands motioning to settle down.

“There’s no word on Amaia,” Caleb tried to reason, his voice almost pleading. But I didn’t want to hear it. “I’m sure she’s fine.”

“She’s gone.” My hand pressed against my chest, to the spot where something had unraveled, slipping beyond my grasp. The room sank into an oppressive stillness, the kind that constricted around my lungs.

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