Page 219 of Juliet & Her Romeos

My heart aches for him.

Vito slips his arms around Ambrose’s shoulders.

Ambrose’s lips tighten, before he turns his back on his mom.

She pales with rage like no one has dared to dismiss her before.

“I can guess where they’re buried,” I say. Ambrose looks at me, startled. “When were these statues added to the courtyard?”

“About four years ago,” Swan says, confirming my memory. “Just after you arrived.”

“Shit,” Vito breathes, glancing down at the frozen ground at the base of the statue.

Olivia becomes ashen. Involuntarily, she glances down as well.

It’s all the confirmation that the sheriff needs. He nods at Joseph, who yanks Olivia after him along the path toward the gates.

My throat feels like it’s closing up, but I force myself not to cry

We did it.

Ambrose is Head Alpha.

Swan and all my fated mates are saved from Olivia’s cruelty.

Finally, the dancers can fly.

We’re free.

A bitter-sweet joy sweeps through the bonds.

Swan, Silvanus, and I let go of each other to turn to face the statue.

Then I rest my hand on Juliet’s cold, outstretched marble one.

Peace washes through me.

The restless anxiety that’s made me an insomniac quietens.

Surrounded by a dark storm that no longer scares me, I finally smile. “I danced tonight in the Prima Ballet Theater as a principal just like you did, Mom. I shone. It was incredible. I wish that you could have seen it, but it’s okay that you didn’t. I’m learning to live in the present now, rather than the past. I’m sorry that this happened to you. But I’m glad that you found love. I have too. My bonds make me happier than I knew it was possible to feel. I’m safe now. I have a family and a home. Perhaps, more than watching me dance, I wish you could have seen that. But it’s time for me to move on now. Goodbye, Mom.”

CHAPTER THIRTY

Romeo Hall, Sanctum

Three months later…

“Laurent would love these balloons.Olivia dragged him to thousands of parties but never threw one for her own son.” I adjust the column stand of purple birthday balloons in the ballroom, which are lit up with string lights. “But now, Laurent is missing—”

“Kidnapped,” Swan corrects.

Swan is putting the finishing touches to an arch of golden balloons, which hang in front of the gleaming mirrors behind the ballet barre.

Moonbeams stream through the floor to ceiling windows that line the grand ballroom. They glitter on the crystal and rose decorations, which Swan and I have spent the day decorating the room with for Benedict’s thirtieth birthday.

A huge banner hangs from the wall, which we painted with cartoon foxes, swans, and snakes, along with the words:HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BENEDICT!

I slant my head back to see the stars that glitter on the black ceiling. The spherical chandelier gleams like the moon has risen inside just for us.

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