Page 107 of The Madness Within

His arm wrapped around her waist like it had always belonged there. His smile looked exactly like mine when I was pretending I wasn’t scared.

My mother.

My father.

BothWatchers. Bothalive, just not here.

“Mom,” I whispered, and my voice broke.

She stepped forward, wrapping me in a hug that felt like home and goodbye all at once. “I’m so proud of you,” she said against my hair. “We all are.”

I blinked and looked beyond them.

Others stood in the distance, more Watchers. Their magic shimmered like stars under their skin. One of them raised a hand in salute. Another bowed.

“You’re not done,” my father said, voice firm but warm. “You have more to do. The war isn’t over.”

“But the Gate—”

“Is closed,” my mother said. “You won the first battle. But there will be more. There arealwaysmore.”

I swallowed hard. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough.”

“You are,” she said gently. “Because you’re not doing it alone anymore.”

And just then, I heard it, his voice. Dorian’s.

Not through the stars. Not through the trees.

Through my soul.

“I love you,” he said. “I always have. Before the Gate. Before the prophecy. Even before I knew what this was. I love you. Ichooseyou.”

I gasped.

The light flickered.

“I have to go,” I said, tears in my eyes.

My mom squeezed my hand. “You’ll find us again. When the time is right. But for now... live.”

I kissed her cheek. Hugged my father one last time.

Then I turned toward the voice that had never let me go.

Towardhim.

I woke with a gasp, lungs dragging in air like it was the first time I’d ever tasted it. My body ached, throbbed, but it wasalive.

And I was in his arms.

Dorian was holding me like he’d never let me go. His forehead pressed to mine. His lips murmured things I didn’t quite catch. His blood was smeared across my skin, mingling with mine like a vow inked in crimson.

“Did you just say you love me,” I croaked, voice raspy and raw, “or was I hallucinating?”

He froze, eyes wide with the kind of fear only I could drag out of him. “You heard that?”

“Idied, Dorian,” I teased weakly. “Didn’t go deaf. You were yelling it like a dramatic widow in a gothic novel.”

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