Page 248 of Lana Pecherczyk
“Aurora.”
Chapter
Seventy-Six
Movement in the shadows beneath the trees caught Blake’s attention. There, half-hidden in darkness, stood a familiar figure she didn’t think was going to show.
Cloud’s black locks curled at the edges, still damp from a recent shower or bath. He was clean and freshly shaven, but unlike the other Guardians, he still wore a uniform. The V marking bisected his face like a red scar. His eyes still held that same haunted emptiness she recalled from their last meeting. His frame returned to that unnatural stillness she’d come to associate with all the Guardians, particularly the most dangerous ones. Blake sensed tension radiating from him across the distance.
River was busy helping with the light show, but she wasn’t sure she’d get another private moment with Cloud, so she slipped away from the gathering and dug into her pocket. She pulled out a folded piece of paper and smoothed the creases as she approached the tree line.
“Cloud.”
He didn’t startle, but his attention shifted to her. Up close, she could see the exhaustion carved into every line of his face,the way his power-enhancing tattoos seemed dulled without their usual greasy luminescence.
“I’ve been meaning to tell you something,” Blake said softly, keeping her voice low so it wouldn’t carry to the ceremony. “When I was in your trove, I noticed the lyrics you’d written on the walls. In UV ink.”
“I know,” he replied, flat gaze locked ahead.
“I’m not sure if you know, but they were incomplete,” she continued. “It bugged me, so I wrote down the rest of the words, word for word.” She held out the folded paper. “I asked Melody to sing it tonight. She’ll start after the names are finished.”
For a brief moment, Cloud’s permanent scowl softened, revealing something raw and vulnerable beneath the blood-stained mask. It was the same face she glimpsed at the Collector’s hoard.
His gaze flicked to her wings. His voice came out rough, barely above a whisper. “You really can’t restore what’s lost, can you?”
Blake’s heart ached for him. “Not in the way you hope.”
Cloud was quiet for a long moment, staring at the paper in her hands. Then he reached into his jacket and pulled out the cryptex, still sealed, still holding whatever secrets had driven him to such desperate lengths.
“Then here. Take it.”
Before Blake could remind him that she couldn’t touch metal, River appeared at her shoulder. Cloud’s gaze shifted to him. Something unseen passed between the two males, yet it held the weight of years of friendship, of betrayal and pain that Blake would never fully understand.
“Fuck face,” Cloud greeted.
“Fuck your own face,” River returned, narrowing his eyes at the cryptex still hovering in the air. “You were supposed to return that days ago.”
“Give it to Leaf and Nova.” His eyes skated away, hand lowering with a shrug. “Or don’t.”
“Why don’t you come with me?” River’s hope threaded through their bond. “Don’t you want to see what’s in it?” He paused. “Without breaking the ink inside it?”
“I already know what’s in it.” Cloud’s fingers moved over the cryptex’s cylinders with practiced ease, clicking them into place. The device opened with a soft sound, revealing its contents.
Blake’s breath caught. Inside, nestled against the crystal walls, lay a single strand of black hair. Just one.
Cloud tipped the cryptex, letting the strand fall into his palm. His fist closed around it, tattooed and scarred knuckles going white with the force of his grip. When he looked up, his smile was rueful, empty of anything resembling joy.
“It’s useless to me now.”
In the distance, a new voice began to rise over the water—rich and haunting, with the kind of power that made the air itself seem to vibrate. Blake turned to see Melody stepping forward, her platinum hair catching moonlight like spun silver, her curvy figure draped in flowing fabric.
The voice that emerged from her throat was nothing like the sultry, breathless tones Blake had remembered hearing on the radio. It sounded nothing like the original artist who sang it, either. Instead, it carried the deep, soulful resonance of heartbreak given form. It was raw and powerful and utterly transcendent.
The tune conjured memories of Blake sitting in front of the television as a child, eating pancakes, listening to her mum gush over how hot the musician was. But what struck Blake the most were the lyrics. The familiar words about wanting to fly away, to escape pain, and to find freedom took on a new meaning in this setting.
“That’s it.” Cloud’s shocked murmur was barely audible over the song. His fingers traced the words he’d been trying so desperately to remember.
A lump formed in her throat as she turned away. She touched River’s arm and gestured back toward the gathering. “We should give him space.”
