Page 277 of Emylia

Still pretending to hold on. Even as death curled greedy fingers around her and dragged her under.

My final goodbye.

The sob that ripped out of me didn’t sound human. It scraped from the back of my throat like claws on stone.

Tears blurred everything. Hot. Relentless.

I let them fall.

I let myself fall.

My body caved forward—curling around her like I could shield her from what had already happened. Like I could take it back if I just held her close enough.

But I couldn’t.

My stomach heaved with grief—dry, retching, shaking. My hands wouldn’t stop trembling. My jaw locked. My chest seized. I couldn’t get air.

Couldn’t getout.

She had been a child.

She had loved sunflowers. Honeycomb.

She had braided my hair with ribbons and flowers we picked in the fields.

And now?—

Now she was nothing.

Just blood in the dirt. Just a flicker of what had been. Of what would never be again.

The world would forget her.

But I wouldn’t.

She was gone. And I was still here.

How was that fair?

She hadn’t deserved this.

Not this fate.

Not this end.

I should’ve been there. I should’ve protected her.

But I hadn’t.

And because of me—her life was stolen. Ripped from her body like it meant nothing.

And now all I could do was hold what was left.

And break.

ChapterSixty-One

Numbness curled beneath my skin. Cold. Consuming. Like grief had grown claws and burrowed deep into my chest.

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