Page 141 of Buried in Blood
And then I leave.
Because Astra is waiting.
And if I don’t see her tonight—if I don’tholdher—I might not come back from this.
* * *
The house is quiet when I walk in.
Too quiet.
My suit is in ruins. My hands are filthy. My soul feels cracked.
But she’s there.
In the hallway.
Barefoot. Shaking. Eyes red from crying.
She runs to me, and I catch her, burying my face in her neck, breathing her in like she’s oxygen and I’ve been drowning.
“I thought you died,” she whispers.
“I didn’t.” I pause, stroking her hair.
“I’m here.”
We stood like that for a long time.
No words.
Just survival.
Eventually, I pull back and cup her face in both hands.
“I’m going to end him,” I say, voice barely above a whisper. “For what he did. For what he took.”
Her eyes harden.
“So am I.”
40
Damien
The SUV hums softly around me. “Seek & Destroy” by Metallica vibrates through the speakers.
The screen flickers.
Static clears.
And there it is.
Glory.
The reception tent is crumpled like a paper dollhouse. The main hall is filled with bleeding guests. The arbor—my favorite touch—is half collapsed, petals stained red, the twisted iron frame punctured through someone’s chest like a grotesque corsage.
I sip my drink.
