Page 123 of Grim
Fate grins dangerously. “Mercy.”
The word hangs between them like a scent they thought long lost.
Fate leans in toward Rue, her voice gone syrupy with sarcasm. “I hardly knew ye.”
“I wonder,” Time glides behind Rue like a shadow, “do you know how long forever feels in darkness?”
“Mercy,” Fate says again, this time turning to the room, to D, to the watching crowd, “banished to the Moonless Mountains.”
“Those perilous peaks,” Time says.
“Doomed, disposed of, and forgotten,” Fate adds, fangs beneath her smile.
“And you, mortal?” Time tilts her head, as if considering whether Rue would look better as ash or stone. “You reek of her.”
“Your sentimentality,” Fate coos. “Your softness, your insipid belief in second chances. It’s enough to make some remember.”
“Which means you cannot stay.”
“No,” I state with decisive power.
Fate’s head swivels, and Time’s smile vanishes.
Rue turns toward me like she momentarily forgot that she wasn’t alone. Which she never will be, not if I can help it.
“No?” Time questions coolly.
“She doesn’t belong here,” Fate adds.
“No,” I repeat with steely calm. Then, fiercely, I state, “She belongs tome.”
I step between Rue and the Sisters before they can reach her.
Rue’s breath catches behind me. I don’t touch her. I don’t need to. The bond between us is molten now, threaded through every bone in my body, every thought, every instinct.
“She ismine,” I say again, louder this time, darker, more final.
Her mind. Her body. Her soul.
All of it etched into me like a promise I never dared to make.
And I, in turn, am hers.
Bound not by contract, or duty, or design—but by the simple, unmistakable truth of pure feeling. The kind of conviction that can move mountains.
Fate sneers, “Such a disobedient little dog you’ve become.”
“Your attachment is unbecoming,” Time says, her voice dripping with disdain. “You were once one of our most efficient reapers. Now, look at you.”
“Emotional.” Fate spits the word.
“I’m taking her home,” I say, taking one slow step forward. “She has time left on Earth. I’m going to see to—”
“No,” Fate states, tapping her finger to her lip in mock thought. “No, I think not.”
“What?”
“You were assigned to guard her crossover,” Time reminds me, waving her fingers as if flicking away dust. “But you have failed. You allowed her to interfere. You indulged her delusions. You disobeyed.”
