Page 108 of Our Little Monster
I sat on the floor, my back against the rough wood next to the bed, eyes never leaving Serina's still form.
Doubt haunted me, whispering insidious thoughts. Had she accepted death? Did she ever contemplate the end as anything but inevitable? Did she think of us?
I rubbed my face, trying to erase the weariness etched into my skin.
The love I felt for her was unexplainable. Something I had never felt in all my years on this earth.
Thorne, Nox, Sam—all of us were ensnared by her fierce resilience. Yet none of us had dared dream she might love us enough to forgive what we had done. What we had made of her.
As dusk crept in, I noticed a subtle shift. My head snapped up, and I caught Thorne's eyes, saw the same flicker of hope mirrored in his gaze.
Nox's hand gripped my shoulder, a silent question trembling in his touch.
“Serina?” Thorne breathed her name.
Her eyes opened, and time seemed to stutter to a halt. They were a startling red-black, the markers of our kind, yet those achingly familiar blue eyes lay beneath all the same.
We fell to our knees, each of us reaching out, torn between an urge to embrace her and the fear of what our embrace meant.
Sam rushed over to the bed, and Thorne acted on instinct, pushing her protectively behind him. Serina's gaze seemed a little disoriented. She was still processing.
“Serina,” I said carefully, my voice cracking with the strain of emotions that threatened to overwhelm me.
Uncertainty flickered across her features; she undoubtedly knew she shouldn’t have survived what had happened to her. I braced myself for rejection, for the agony of her hatred for what we did.
I could not have borne the look of loathing from her, not after everything.
Not when I loved her more than anything else.
Her eyes roved over our faces, and then it dawned on her. Emotions churned within me, a maelstrom of love and regret, hope and despair, all blending into a desperate plea for forgiveness we had no right to ask for.
She rose abruptly, her chest heaving. Her stare lingered on each of us, piercing and deep, searching our souls as if seeking the truth of what we'd done to her.
Then, as sudden as a storm breaking, tears shimmered in her eyes, spilling over and tracing silvery paths down her cheeks. With a tremor that might have been a sob or a laugh, she pulled us into an embrace that felt like coming home after a lifetime away.
Her touch was gentle, so achingly familiar, yet underscored by the strength of her new existence. It was more than I ever dared to hope for.
I buried my face in the crook of her neck, inhaling the scent of her skin, a mix of pine from the cabin and something exquisitely her. Tears blurred my vision, emotions I couldn't name cascading inside me. Relief, love, a tinge of sorrow for what she'd lost and what we had gained.
“Gods, Serina,” I managed, my throat tight and my heart aching, “I thought we'd lost you.”
Around me, I heard the choked sounds of Thorne and Nox, their breaths hitching with the weight of their emotions.
None of us had expected forgiveness, least of all acceptance. Yet here she was, holding us, as if to say without words that we were still hers, that this bond between us hadn't been severed by the decision we made for her.
We stayed there, a tangle of limbs and hearts, allowing ourselves to be swallowed by the moment. For now, it was enough that she was alive, that she was with us.
The rest could wait.
36
Serina
Thevenomhadscorchedthrough my veins like wildfire, an agony so profound that it eclipsed all sense of time and existence.
I lay trapped within my own body, unable to scream or flee from the relentless burn. It felt eternal, as though I'd been suspended in a torturous loop of fire. Was this hell?
Then, abruptly, the torment ceased.
