Page 67 of Royal Deception
“Rory?” Callie’s voice cracks, her eyes wide with surprise and a hint of anger.
I stare at her for a beat, trying to process what just happened. But then I know. I know what it is. It’s Clary. It’s always been Clary.
I’ve been running from it, from her, from what I feel. But now, standing here with Callie, all I can think about is her. Clary. The way she looks at me. The way she makes me feel. And I can’t ignore it anymore.
“I’m sorry, Callie,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper, the weight of my words heavy in the air between us. “I can’t do this. Not with you. Not right now.”
Her eyes narrow, a flash of hurt passing through them before she quickly masks it with a forced smile. “Fine,” she snaps. “If that’s how it is.”
She walks away, leaving me standing there, stunned by the realization that in this moment, I’ve made a choice.
It wasn’t Callie. It was never Callie.
I just hope I’m not too late.
By the time I get back to my apartment, the weight of the night feels like it’s crushing me. Everything’s spinning out of control, but nothing feels heavier than the pit in my stomach that’s been there since I sent Clary away.
I try to shake it off as I step inside, but as soon as I see what’s on my pillow, I freeze.
Clary’s eternity collar. But it’s broken.
The silver chain is neatly placed across the pillow, the pendant catching the light in a way that makes my chest tighten.
Then I see a note next to it and my heart skips a beat. I reach for it with trembling fingers, my eyes scanning the words before I can even process them.
I can’t do this anymore.
28
CLARY
Idon’t know where else to go.
My apartment feels like a tomb, the walls pressing in, the silence deafening. I’m trapped in my own thoughts, drowning in everything that’s gone wrong. I need space. I need comfort. I need someone to help me make sense of all of this.
I pull out my phone and call Miranda.
Her phone rings twice before she picks up. “Clary?” Her voice is calm, almost too calm, but I can hear the concern in it. “It’s late. What’s wrong?”
I take a shaky breath, trying to keep it together. “Can I come over? I–I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to be alone right now.”
She doesn’t hesitate. “Of course. Come on over. I’ll leave the door unlocked.”
I let out a sigh of relief. Miranda’s become one of the few people I can count on lately.
When I finally get to her townhouse, it’s quiet and peaceful, completely different from the chaos in my head. The place is far away from Irish territory and somewhere in between our side oftown and the Russians’. It’s nice here, quiet and clean, especially at this time of night.
I knock, and a moment later, Miranda opens the door. Her eyes soften when she sees me, taking in my disheveled appearance. “You look like you’ve been through hell,” she says, her voice gentle.
I manage a weak smile. “I guess you could say that.”
She ushers me inside, immediately offering me something warm—tea or hot chocolate. I accept without a second thought. Whatever it is, I need the warmth, both physically and emotionally.
Miranda leads me to the living room where a fire crackles in the hearth. It’s cozy here, calm in a way I can’t seem to find in my own life anymore.
She hands me the mug and sits next to me, her body language open but careful, waiting for me to say something. “What happened?” she asks, her voice quiet.
I feel like I’m unraveling, but I know I need to say it. I need to let someone in.
