Page 68 of Infernal

“How am I supposed to do that?”

“By putting them before us,” he said, his voice echoing ominously in my head. “Let me go, Jemma. Find a way to do it, or everyone dies.” His voice grew weaker—more distant.

I shook my head and sobbed into his shirt, but he just kept going—kept spearing me with his words.

“The blood will be on your hands, and you won’t be able to live with that. I know you’ll do the right thing. I know you’ll make me proud.” He squeezed me harder then, and I knew he was telling me goodbye.

But I wasn’t ready for goodbye.

We still had our whole lives to live. “Don’t you dare leave me, Trace. I can’t lose you!”

“You won’t,” he said and kissed the top of my head. “I’ll always be with you, Jemma. Always.”

“Dammit, Trace! Don’t leave me!” A guttural cry ripped out of my body as I tried to hold onto him, to keep him with me forever, but it was no use. He faded away until nothing but air remained in my arms.

I fell to the floor in a heap and sobbed until I woke myself up.

24. WAKE AND BAKE

My cheeks were wet with tears as I sprang up in the dimly lit room and looked over at the clock. I was back in my hotel bed, and though my body never physically left the bed, my mind and heart had, and I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to recover from what had just happened.

Trace had given up.

He’d already resigned himself to his death, to his own slaughter by my hands. How could he expect me to do that to him? To kill him. To give up on him. After everything we went through. After everything we promised each other.

Something wasn’t sitting well with me.

It wasn’t like him to give up so easily. Trace was a fighter. A leader. Was he throwing in the towel because he really believed there was no way to save him, or was it something else?

The more I thought about it, the more the pieces fell together. Hadn’t this been exactly what Morgan had seen in her vision all those months ago? Me killing Trace. His blood on my hands. Maybe he knew this day was coming all along. Maybe he believed this was his destiny. He sure as hell didn’t believe there was a way to bring him back.

But I did.

I refused to give up on him, to surrender to these faulty destinies that were drawn up by someone else’s hands. I would find my own way out of this mess, even if it killed me, and I was dragging Trace’s Reaper ass right along with me, whether he wanted it or not.

Deciding to ignore everything Trace had said, I got out of bed and stalked to the shower. The sooner I got this day started, the closer I’d be to bringing him home again.

I stood under the cascading water for several minutes, letting the warmth pour over my skin. Most of the bruises had long since disappeared, and the stitches were almost completely healed. I wasn’t sure if it was because of my own Angel bloodline or if it was because of the vampire blood I’d been drinking. Either way, I was relieved to be back at full strength, because now more than ever, I was going to need it.

Stepping out of the shower, I grabbed a towel from the shelf and dried myself. After twisting my hair into a messy top bun, I brushed my teeth and got myself dressed. I didn’t have a change of clothes with me because I was bright like that, so I had to get back into my outfit from yesterday. There was something epically wrong about getting into dirty clothes after a nice clean shower.

Whatever. I’d been covered in much worse.

Twisting the doorknob, I yanked open the door and nearly had a heart attack at the sight of Dominic standing in the doorway. The smug grin on his face told me he’d been standing there for a while.

“Breakfast?”

“I’m good, thanks,” I said and tried to step forward, but he didn’t bother getting out of my way.

“You have to eat something,” he insisted.

“I’m not hungry.” After all, I scoffed back a vial of his blood last night, which would surely hold me over better than any eggs and bacon could.

Mmm bacon.

“I’m sure you’re not, angel, but you’re still eating something.” He picked up my hand and towed me out of the bathroom and through the bedroom.

Begrudgingly, I followed him, knowing that he wasn’t going to let up until I shoved a few bites into my mouth. He walked us into the living room to a small table with two chairs by the window. The table was outfitted with a crisp white tablecloth and several covered dishes that I couldn’t see the contents of but could definitely smell.

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