Page 99 of Breaking Isolde
When we finally collapse, she’s curled against me, her head on my chest, her arms around my waist. My hands are in her hair, fingers tangled in the knots.
We breathe together, hearts racing, until the aftershocks die.
She lifts her head, meets my eyes. “We’re not normal, are we?”
“No,” I say, and kiss her forehead. “We’re better.”
She laughs, making my heart flip flop. “You ruined me, Grey.”
I stroke her back, tracing the marks I left with my nails and teeth. “You ruined me first.”
We fall asleep that way, tangled and spent, both marked and bleeding and alive.
In the morning, the bruises are darker, the tattoos stiff and starting to scab, but the feeling is the same.
Unbreakable.
Pulling on some clean clothes, we walk to the kitchen together, and eat breakfast in comfortable silence. The world outside is cold and white, but I’m warm for the first time in years.
She sits in my lap, chin on my shoulder, tracing circles on my chest.
I know the war isn’t over. The Board will come, the Kings will try to kill us, the whole world is set against us.
But right now, I have her.
And that’s enough.
Always will be.
Epilogue: Isolde
Ifyoueverwantto hate a place, watch it at sunset. That’s when all the old rot glows gold, and you get just enough light to see the scars before the dark comes and makes you forget.
Westpoint is like that—pretty from a distance, all spires and stately brick, but if you squint you can see the new mortar holding the walls together, all the parts patched up after more of the rot fell off.
Three months since I blew out of that hell with Rhett and went to the lakehouse. Two and a half since we went back after ourhoneymoon, and were given this cottage as ourhome.
It’s odd, five cottages, just on the outskirts of the Academy, but only ours is taken. I can safely presume that the others are for the rest of the Boys after they successfully complete their hunts, but Caius’ will always stay empty.
Not that I’m complaining. I enjoy the solitude.
I sit on the porch, mug of cold tea in my hands, and just stare. The campus is a chunk of shadow on the horizon, silhouettes of gargoyles and student housing rising behind the skeletal arms of dead trees. In this light it could almost be a fairytale.
Almost.
The cottage isn’t much, but the wrap around porch is to die for. The boards are warped and the white paint is more green from algae than anything else, but it has a railing, and a decent view. The inside is two rooms and a full bathroom with dual sinks. It’s small, but I like it. It’s not the dorm, and it’s not Rhett’s room, and it’s not my family’s condemned house. It’s just…here.
I pull my knees up to my chest, ignoring the twinge in my left ankle, which never healed right after the Hunt. The first thing you learn at Westpoint is that the weak get culled. The second thing is that sometimes the weak bite back.
The sun drops behind the main building, streaking the landscape in orange and red. My breath comes out in little clouds, but I refuse to go inside. I like the sting of cold on my skin. It’s a reminder that I still have nerve endings, that Ididn’t die like my sister, that the Board didn’t erase us after the interrogation over Valence’s disappearance.
If you look hard, you can see Bam moving around in the trees, doing whatever feral thing he does after hours. He’s squatting in the cottage next door, sleeping there on days that Colt and Jules bring girls over to party. Rhett says it’s because Bam wants to ‘save himself’ for his runner, but I know better.
Bam just likes the company, even if he’ll never admit it. He’s the only one who doesn’t flinch when I talk about Casey, about what happened to her. Rhett still looks at me with that guilty “I’m so sorry” face, which makes me want to jam a fork in his eye. Bam just grunts, or shrugs, or offers me a beer. I prefer that.
I take another sip of my tea, and catch myself touching my stomach. A new habit. Still flat as ever, though I swear I feel every molecule rearrange itself on bad days. The test was positive three days ago. Rhett was estatic and Bam just rolled his eyes.
O squealed when I called to tell her, spewing all her pregnancy wisdom on me. She’s pretty close to popping and I’m sure she will be excited to tell me all about that, too.
