Page 143 of The Light Within

Cinn stepped towards him—

A pained cry shotthrough the room.

Lucien had seized his chance of escape, reaching the entrance to the nearest tunnel. But he’d tripped on something, landing in a twisted heap, clutching his leg.

Béatrice’s shadow tore away from Julien, moving with a sudden, lethal grace. It surged forward, a mass of writhing darkness, intent and unstoppable. Lucien barely had time to register the movement before the shadows were upon him, wrapping around his body like serpents. They coiled tighter and tighter, a malevolent force dragging him down with a brutal snap. He hit the ground hard, his eyes bulging with terror.

The dark tendrils pulsed, growing more intense, more violent. Lucien’s breath hitched into a choking gasp, his mouth opening wide in a silent, desperate scream. Then, with a sickening pop, his eyeballs sprang from their sockets, dangling grotesquely as blood streamed down his face like tears. His expression was frozen in horror, a twisted mask of agony as the shadow crushed him further.

Bones snapped with sickening cracks, limbs bending at impossible angles as Béatrice’s shadow constricted him tighter and tighter, his body folding in on itself. The sound of flesh ripping echoed in the chamber, the shadows feeding on his form until all that was left was a grotesque heap of shattered bone and torn muscle, twisted beyond recognition.

Cinn’s stomach turned violently, nausea roiling inside him as he took in the sight of the mangled corpse. His hand flew to his mouth as he doubled over, retching, unable to tear his eyes from the grim spectacle. The stench of blood and death filled the air, clinging to his senses as he heaved.

There was a whisper of words Cinn couldn’t quite catch. Then, after one final shadowy flourish, Béatrice evaporated like mist.

The catacombs fell eerily silent, the shaking ceasing completely as the echoes of Lucien’s final cries faded away.

“Fuck,” Cinn managed to croak out. “Fucking hell.”

Cinn’s gaze snapped straight back to Julien, every muscle in his body tense, fearing he’d still be unreachable. But the storms swirling in his eyes were gone. Though clearly exhausted, he was back. Cinn tentatively squeezed his arm, eliciting a faint but heartfelt smile which filled the dark cavern with sunlight.

Julien’s hand closed tightly around Béatrice’s locket. “She’s gone,” he said. “We won’t see her again. That’s that.”

Wrapping his arms around Julien’s waist, Cinn pulled him tight against him. He rested his chin on Julien’s shoulder. “She’s at peace,” Cinn said. Though he didn’t truly know, it felt good to say. “But I’m going to look after you for her now.”

“And he’s gone.” Julien stared at the unrecognisable lump that was previously his father.

“Yeah.” Béatrice had killed him so Julien didn’t have to, and for that, Cinn would be eternally grateful. “He had it coming.” Cinn scrutinized Julien’s reaction for any hint of regret, and found none.

Julien’s fingers curled into the fabric of Cinn’s shirt, clinging to him like a lifeline. “I wasn’t sure I was going to come back from that. I almost…” He let out a massive exhale, the breath escaping him like he’d been holding it in for hours, the tension finally draining from his body.

“It’s all over. You can rest now,” Cinn assured him, cupping Julien’s face, thumbs brushing away the dirt and sweat. “I’ve got you.”

“I could sleep for a week.” With a sigh, Julien sank into Cinn. His eyes fluttered shut. Ever so slowly, the tension in his muscles softened, the weight of the world lifting from his shoulders as he surrendered to the warmth and safety of Cinn’s embrace.

Julien may as well nap—he’d need the energy if they were to find their way out of this place. Cinn wrapped his arms around him, squeezing him as hard as he dared. It wasn’t until he felt the rhythmic rise and fall of Julien’s chest that his own breathing finally steadied. Sat still on the ground, Julien’s warmth seeped into him, keeping the chill at bay. Cinn’shand drifted across Julien’s stolen hoodie, slightly torn in several places. That was okay. He’d give him another one the moment they got back home.

Time slipped away in that quiet moment. Cinn savoured the sensation of Julien nestled against him, each heartbeat creating a soothing rhythm, the chaos they had just faced already feeling like a distant memory. He lost himself in the softness of Julien’s hair against his cheek, the way his body relaxed against him, and the gentle rise and fall of his breathing. Each second stretched into eternity, reinforcing the quiet sanctuary they’d created, and Cinn was reluctant to disturb it.

“What in the ever-loving—” a voice behind Cinn cried.

Cinn had thought Julien close to sleep, but he laughed, the rumble of his chest so great it shook Cinn. Untangling, they found six pairs of eyes staring at the scene in disbelief and horror. Mainly horror.

“Are they all dead?” Noir said, observing the bodies.

“He is, definitely.” Cinn jerked his head at Lucien. “The jury is still out on the others.”

Eleanor tore a hand through her hair, looking like she could easily rip it out. “You had to go and make a mess, didn’t you?”

“Did you expect anything less?” Julien’s lips twitched upward, and his smile almost met his eyes.

Darcy and Elliot climbed over bodies, melted machine parts, and piles of bones to reach them. Without a single word, they closed in around Cinn and Julien, their arms wrapping around them in a hurried collective embrace. Both of them were shaking—whether from adrenaline, fear, or exhaustion, Cinn couldn’t tell. Their bodies pressed tightly together, squishing Cinn so much he could barely breathe. But he wouldn’t have had it any other way.

“You look like shit,” Darcy told Julien.

Julien grabbed her head to press violent kisses on both cheeks. “I love you too.”

Elliot’s face shone with sweat. “I would murder the pair of you if I had an ounce of energy left.” He glared at Cinn, with a wide grin.

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