Page 165 of Exodus

For once in my life, I’m okay with letting love lose.

I’ll forever be a foolish romantic, chasing the high, though no high will ever compete with the one I felt with him. It ends here.

I don’t know how to be both powerful and in love, and that’s my downfall.

We had our song, and it’s time to take us off pause and let the rest of our story play out. The way it was always going to.

Meggie fell for a priest. I fell for a prophet. We declared war on their calling and cause, and neither of us won.

But I’m keeping my love story, not because it included both martyr and sacrifice, or because it’s the story I wanted, it’s because I would never rewrite it. And I would live it all over again just for the chance to sing with him.

“I’ve finally found my reason to hate you, Tobias.” His eyes snap to mine. “Not because of our past, not because of the way you’ve pushed me away, but because of the way you’re punishing us both—the same way Roman did. Love isn’t an inconvenience, it isn’t a mistake, and the danger makes it all worth it. I walked through fucking fire for you. I survived hell for you. You don’t deserve me. You never deserved me, not at all. But I deserve you. I. Deserve. You. But it’s the king I deserve. It’s the king I want.” I clench my fists. “I loved the bastard I met, the thief that stole me, and the king who claimed me, but I refuse to love the coward. I hate the coward.”

Ripping my eyes from him, I pull another envelope from my purse and toss it at him. It thuds against his chest, falling to rest on his wingtips. “An addendum to the original contract that will negate my shares in your company. It’s over. Ties broken. I’m letting you win. Goodbye, Tobias.”

My heart nags me with every step I take away from him, begging me to make it whole as I quietly close the door behind me.

Chapter Fifty-One

“

S

hould sell fast. Especially at the asking price. Are you sure you don’t want to start higher?”

I shake my head as she plants the “For Sale” sign into the ground before securing it into place with a rubber mallet.

“I’ll contact you at the number you gave me.”

“Thank you.”

She glances around. “Such a beautiful place.”

“It is.” I can’t argue with her. It was a place built for a family. A blueprint that stemmed from unrealistic dreams of two people who spent a moment in love, meant for a family who never had the chance to exist.

Two dreams died in this house, but the foundation of those love stories is spectacularly similar. And now it is a reminder of all that was lost.

A fucking Greek tragedy with a Shakespearean twist.

And for all my efforts, I can’t at all renounce my name. I’ll forever be the Capulet without a Romeo.

There’s no gypsy to relieve us of our curse, no apothecary with a quick solution. All that dwells here is a painful history repeating itself.

And so the story goes.

All are punished.

I nod as she secures the lockbox around the door when I spot the envelope tucked into it.

“I’m going to take off, but I’ll be in touch. I’m taking Melinda to lunch for referring me for the listing.”

“Please tell her I said goodbye, and thank you for your help,” I say absently, taking the envelope in hand, thumbing the contents inside.

My heart lurches at the weight of it.

Several minutes later, I collect my bag as my car pulls up. With one last walk through the house, I lock it up, leaving the key in the lockbox.

One last order of business and my life will again be my own.

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