Page 127 of The World Undone

“There’s still the problem of the oath,” Darius said, “Lucifer won’t agree to working with the council.”

“Then we don’t tell him,” Ro snorted, “obviously.”

“Or we tell a partial lie,” Dec added, “don’t tell him until it’s too late for him to stop her, to invoke the oath.”

I shook my head. “The Guild doesn’t want to save the hell realm. Their offer was to destroy hell, and everyone stuck there, for good, or potentially—” and I stretched this word out, because I didn’t trust Jarrod or the remaining council members—of which there were now only two—as far as I could throw them, “just reseal it—repeat the ritual used that created hell in the first place. No more portals, no more barriers, no more realms. Just two separate worlds, bolstering protectors in this one. I think they think this would help infuse the protector line with the power they’ve lost through the generations. A do-over of sorts.”

“Great,” Dec said, brows lifted, “we do that. Go back to the status quo.”

The others murmured their assent, but Darius just watched me, his expression grim.

“No,” I whispered. “I don’t believe the council really thinks that’s an option. And if it were, I still wouldn’t do it.”

“No?” Eli grunted, “what do you mean no? It’s an option, Max. Maybe our only one. And if we work with the council, we’ll get the stone. They might even know where the nexus is. They don’t have a death wish. They want to survive,” he said the last part under his breath, like I didn’t also want that, “it’s in everyone’s best interest if we protect the realms from collapsing. Maybe, just this once, we can actually work with them to keep as many people alive as possible. And then, once this is done, we can figure out a way to help people there, to create portals, to get them out—whatever you want.”

“And then what, The Guild is just in control of everything, forever?” I added, shaking my head. “That’s why they would help. Their own greed. Maybe we should want more than the status quo. The only ones who stand to benefit from a return to where we started are the people who held all the power then—protectors. I don’t want this to end at the beginning. We’ve learned too much. What does the status quo look like, exactly? Let’s say it works? We seal the realm, and maybe—maybe the people stuck in hell survive. Then what? Demons are just stuck there? Forever? Hell is fucking miserable, we’ve been there. It’s a prison that slowly drains the lives of the people stuck there. And here, what’s here? The council, The Guild, they just get to keep their power, their control? Just because you want to keep me alive for a few more years?”

As if The Guild wouldn’t kill me the first chance they got, after they drained every last thing they needed from me.

They didn’t keep promises, they had no honor.

Had we learned nothing?

I stood up, begging them to understand. I’d thought about this, I’d already run this through my head, walked every possible path. “I don’t want to return to the status quo. I don’t want to be the reason the world is stuck in that toxic sludge forever. I want the possibility of something better. A world that people can remake however they collectively see fit—one that isn’t built on a lust for power. There’s no guarantee that it will be better than what we have now, but there’s at least the possibility—and that’s everything. Don’t you see that?”

“So what the fuck was the point in all of this then?” Ro yelled, his eyes rimmed with red. “Why did you bring us all here? I thought this was supposed to be your big army—that we were going to wage war against the council? What the fuck is this ridiculous Defiance for then, if you’re just going to throw us all away to become a martyr?”

“The council is nothing in the grand scheme of things. They are one small pawn in an infinitely bigger battle. And we’ve succeeded to the best of our abilities in that battle. There are only two of them left, The Guild’s power is crumbling.” My chest squeezed, and I wanted nothing more than to hug him, to erase the pain I could feel from here, as if it was my own. “I think maybe I didn’t bring an army here. I think that this place, the people we’ve brought together, the people who were here before us—they’ll be needed after the ritual, not before.”

“To fight?” Izzy asked, her eyes narrowed as she watched me. “For what comes after you’re gone, you mean? The council? Demons? Humans? What?”

“I don’t know,” I said, “maybe. But maybe the thing that will be needed most isn’t war. Maybe it’s community. Maybe that’s the point. Charlie and Bishop helped build a place that meets the needs of everyone who is willing to be a part of it. There’s something magical about that, isn’t there? There’s hope here, the possibility of something better for everyone—a future worth fighting for. Maybe this community’s job isn’t to tear things down, but to build things back up.”

Atlas’s eyes met mine, sheer stubbornness and hurt battling in their depths. “There’s no future worth fighting for that doesn’t include you, Bentley.”

Ignoring him, and the way my breath hitched at his words, I walked over to Ro. I grabbed his hand, silently begging him to understand—begging him to see what I saw. “All we ever wanted was to feel like we belonged somewhere, to be part of something we believed in. To feel like part of a community. I thought when we went to The Guild, that maybe there we’d find it. And we did,” I gestured around the room, to the people who’d become my family, “but it wasn’t The Guild that fostered that. We did. This place,” I squeezed his hand, “the Lodge—it’s home. This is that community.” I turned around the room, looking at them all. “You can’t ask me to betray that. You have to let me make this choice.”

And this place, the people here, they would be here for him—for them all—when I was gone. They’d be here for each other. A family just as strong, just as sturdy, even if I wasn’t here with them. That, more than anything, gave me a sense of peace.

“I can’t—” A tear fell down Ro’s cheek, and I watched his chin dimple, his lips strain as he fought to keep more back. “I can’t lose you too, Max.”

The pain in his voice cracked my chest in half, and I fought to keep my own sob from following his.

“You have to let us try.” Atlas stood next to me now, his eyes searching, begging. “We have time. We don’t have any of the things we need for the ritual. That means that there’s time for us to find another way. We’ll talk to Charlie, we’ll talk to everyone. We’ll all put our heads together, research, consolidate our resources, and find—something.”

I opened my mouth to tell him it was pointless, that it would just be a waste of the remaining time we had left together.

If Lucifer couldn’t find a loophole, I had no idea how anyone else could.

But Atlas shook his head. “You have to give us this one thing, Max. We can’t just give up. We can’t just walk you to your death without a fight. I won’t do it. If we have to accept your decisions as yours, then you owe us this. You said it yourself—that there’s hope here, the possibility of something better, right? That’s what you love about this place—the community? Let us work with them, then. Let us try to find another path, another option. Please.”

24

ATLAS

“Please tell me we’re not really thinking about letting her go through with this shit, right?” Darius narrowed his eyes as he approached the table.

I was sitting in the restaurant, at the far back table, where I’d asked them to meet me.

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