Page 155 of Lourdes & the Mafia
“Don’t give in,” I whisper to myself. “Don’t fucking give in.”
But the grief crushes against my chest, a pressure I can’t battle or fight, and I fall to my knees, the painful impact nothing compared to the storm within my chest. I grasp at it with desperate fingers, my talons shooting out to sink into my chest. As if I can wrench the pain out of my body this way.
I want to. I want to take it out, get rid of it, give it to someone else, anything for this feeling togo away.
A body suddenly crowds mine from where I’m kneeling on the floor, and I manage to pull in a ragged breath as my brother’s arms wrap around my shoulders.
“I’ve got you,” he whispers. “I’ve got you.”
My talons dig into his clothes, ripping through the material in my desperation to grab him. “Ramiel,” I choke. “It fucking hurts.”
So much.
Not even Thuriel’s magic hurt as much as this does.
I don’t think anything could ever hurt as much as this does.
“I know,” Ramiel replies, enveloping us in a blanketed comfort of his magic, and while it staves off the rough edges of my emotions, it cannot snuff them completely. “I know it fucking hurts.”
“She’s gone, Rami.” And I love her and I hate her for it. “She’s fucking gone.”
My brother’s fingers thread through my hair and it does bring with it the slightest sense of comfort. “I am sorry,” he whispers against my hair. “I am sorry I couldn’t save her.”
I open my mouth to reply, though I don’t know what I can say to that. Luckily I don’t have to say anything because at that moment, Lorenzo screams for us from the ritual room, his voice a broken, desperate cry.
We whisk into the room, and for a brief second, I’m grateful for the distraction.
Grateful I can focus on something else other than the oppressive sensation inside. I can push away these things I don’t want to feel.
Ramiel
I’veneverseenmybrothers more vulnerable. Especially not Kane. His emotions are all but palpable, painful. Gritty and rough, too big to be contained within his body. It’s inevitable that he explodes.
We’re all feeling it. The loss. We feel it keenly. So do I. As deeply as my brothers, and yet I cannot afford to break down. I have to keep a level head. I have a fucking kingdom to run. I have brothers to care for.
I cannot afford to bend.
Even when all I want to do is break.
But I keep it together, because my brothers need me. So when Lorenzo calls our names, his voice little more than a sound of fear and surprise, we whisk into the ritual room.
“Lorenzo?”
He’s kneeling beside the long slab of stone that holds Lourdes’ body. His fingers are entwined with hers and his sobs echo across the cavernous space. At our arrival, he looks up and he’s… smiling through his tears.
“What—” Kane steps forward, but his knees buckle as he senses exactly what I do.
“It can’t be.”
But it can.
It is.
As I stand there and stare, I see it just as my magic senses it. the fluttering of her lashes. The twitching of her fingers. The steady flutter of her chest rising and falling like the softest pulsing of a butterfly’s wings. Breath. A heartbeat. Her eyes opening.
Life.
Lourdes
