Page 98 of Veradel
“I know. Fuck them.”
She nods, raises her chin, and sprints into the crowd with her makeshift weapon held high. I don’t waste more time dropping to my knees and crawling up to Lucan, feeling my heart sink at the spurts of blood arcing from his neck, stinging my nostrils with his earthy, woodsy smell. Shit. This is bad. Worse than I thought.
“No, no, no,” I cry, putting pressure on the wounds with my hands. “You’re going to be fine, baby. These are going to clot over, just like your other wounds. Nobody dies on my watch.”
But that’s not true anymore. So many already have. My father. Gabriel. Claudia. And from somewhere over the heads of all the people fighting, horror rips through me as Tristan goes down with a bloodcurdling scream.
I can’t save them all. I can’t be everywhere at once.
All I can do is bend over Lucan with his life pulsing against my palms, trying to staunch the bleeding and telling him to hold on a little longer.
In the haze that whirls around me, a pair of gentle hands lands on my shoulder, and I look up through bleary vision to find two faces I never expected to see within these Walls:
Taika and Stella.
Lucan’s mom drops to her knees next to mine, her eyes roving wildly over her son’s wounds. Taika does the same with his medical bag, only calm determination on his face as says, “Your hands are shaking too badly for this, Saskia. Allow me.”
Quickly, I remove my hands, letting Taika take over as a frigid numbness crawls over me. Lucan’s mom wraps her arm around my shoulder and squeezes with a sniff. “We saw the fire and felt Gabriel…” Her voice trails off, and she swallows. “There was no way we could stay behind, knowing that you were in trouble.”
“Thank y-you.” I choke over the last word, watching Taika wrap Lucan’s neck, the bandage blooming with crimson as soon as it touches his skin.
I cling to Stella, blinking through the agony, hoping that the next time my eyes open, the bleeding will have stopped—that Lucan isn’t going to die.
Taika just keeps applying pressure where the blood continues to soak through the fabric, determination in his eyes to staunch the flow and allow Lucan enough time to begin to heal. But it doesn’t. A muffled sob leaves Stella’s lips.
Glancing up through my haze, I find that the rest of the pack is faring much better. Soren shouts as he finally manages to rip out the First Guardian’s heart with his teeth. Vivian’s shaken off the rest of the sentries, leaving them to the other citizens of Xantera, and locked her jaws around the Second Guardian’s throat. Merrick squeezes the Twelfth Guardian’s heart in his fist. And Kyra’s on her knees, holding Gabriel’s body.
Soon, every single Guardian’s heart has been ripped out.
Except for Arad’s.
From across the throne room, right next to the doorway, he sweeps his gaze over the destruction of his fellow brothers and sisters, his lips curled up in disgust. He knows he’s lost. Knows that thanks to the servants and Chosen Ones he underestimated, he will not sit on his throne ever again.
But instead of fighting until his last dying breath, he passes me one last hateful glance.
And runs away.
Fuck. That. He hurt my Lucan, so he doesn’tgetto run away.
Removing myself from Stella’s hold, I lean forward to plant a gentle kiss against Lucan’s lips, savoring the slight waft of breath that escapes between them. He’s still alive—barely—but I have to ensure that Arad won’t remain so.
“Wake up for me,” I whisper against Lucan’s ear. “Please, please wake up.”
Then I leap up, leaving him in the care of Taika and his mother, and race after the Third Guardian.
Inever dreamt about anything untilher.
Before her, my time asleep was spent in darkness, and my time awake was spent in wrath. I only wanted to destroy—the Wall, the Guardians, Xantera itself.
Now, I want to create—not just a new kingdom for my citizens to feel safe in, but a life with her. A home where we can figure out how to keep loving and dancing without a Wall looming over us. A better world.
So I’m pretty pissed when I feel death tugging me away from the light.
“No,” I tell the dark, shadowy figure walking toward me from a deep recess of this dream. “She told me to wake up.”
“Cool it.” The shadowy figure raises his palms, his voice familiar. “I just came here to talk.”
“Gabriel?”
