Page 42 of Ronan

Another of those sweet smiles softens his face as he leans down and cups my cheek, holding my eyes in a way that’s incredibly intimate. “You were always worth it. I don’t know what it means to have a mate any more than you do. I don’t have any idea how to be a good one. But I want to try. Gods, I want to try, and I want to learn how to give you what you deserve.”

A quiet sob hiccups from my throat as he leans in and presses his lips to the very corner of my mouth. “Your worthiness wasnevera question. This? Us? This is our inevitability, but you are also mychoice. I choose this… choose you. Would choose you a thousand times over. I am sorry if I ever made it seem otherwise.”

More tears well as I nod, and his head tilts again as he notices the sheen. He says nothing, just drags his thumb over my cheek and presses a kiss to my temple before he turns and walks out into the night.

Chapter 14

Ronan

Flames flare bright, shadows dancing on Cameron’s face as he stands mesmerized beside the van, the blistering heat warming our skin even at a distance. “Do you think the trees will catch fire?” he asks, the flickering orange glow reflecting off his glasses.

“With the little rain we’ve had this year? Probably. It won’t go past this grove, though.” Too much dead soil and barren land waits beyond the trees, so I’m confident the embers will die within this small area.

He frowns, still staring at the fire. “It’s a shame it had to burn.”

After I dislodged my sword from Commander Bravis’s neck, I carried the two bodies into the house, piling them on top of the couch where I’d just slept. Blood stained my clothes once more, so we spent a few minutes in the creek scrubbing skin, weapons, and my armor. Whatever we didn’t need—particularly anything that might condemn us—was tossed into the pileto burn.

Gas was poured over the bodies inside, siphoned from the sedan, in a move that felt poetic as I struck the match. Now we stand outside the fire’s reach, watching as it turns to ash.

The house.

The bodies.

My old life.

That’s why I took you…

The memories fade as I force myself into the present. “It’s time to go.” Cameron nods, tearing his eyes from the inferno in front of us.

Supplies fill the trunk of the van that Commander Bravis was driving, and Boomerang is already on the middle bench. Her tail wags with a steadythump, thump,as she waits for us to get moving. The tracker was right where he said it would be, a small, circular device stuck inside the fuel tank door.

Easy enough to remove, and even easier to toss into the fire.

Cameron sits in the passenger seat as I climb in, both hands on the wheel. The engine rumbles to life beneath us, and besides the muted crackling of wood muffled through the windows, it’s quiet.

It hits me, then—the finality of the moment.

There’s no going back.

“Ronan?” Cameron’s hand is tentative as it reaches towards me, hovering for a moment before settling onto his thigh, fingers twitching. His voice holds the question, a fragile thing he doesn’t breathe life into. A hesitant edge in his tone that whispers his doubts, loud and clear.

It asks,Does he already regret this?

Will I be alone, after all?

I respect him too much to lie, so I don’t offer false reassurances. There are no promises that everything will be fine, or that I’m not terrified. No insistence that I’m not mourning the loss of the life I’ve known since I was seventeen years old.

That truth is raw and heavy, and very real.

But there’s another very real truth that’s even more profound, and it’s one he needs to hear. “I will never leave you, Cameron.” He says nothing, just takes a shuddering breath and nods as I put the van into reverse.

The gas gauge needle sits happily next toFull, which is enough to get us far from here. Fuel is a commodity rarely found outside military bases and major cities, so we must be cautious of our consumption.

“Did you have a particular destination in mind?” Cameron asks, as though he’s reading my thoughts. The fire shrinks in the rearview mirror, its crackles long silenced. I merge onto the remnants of an old road, grateful to find the surface mostly intact.

“Away.”

Cameron’s defense mechanisms return front and center in the form of sass, and he slaps his palms together in a sarcastic slow clap. “Someone please give this man points for critical thinking. A-plus for planning.” Relieved by the absence of his insecurities, at least for now, I chuckle.

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