“Nyx! Ambrose!” I scream, transporting myself to them in the blink of an eye with my magic.
They can’t be dead. The gods wouldn’t allow it. They can’t be dead.
I get to Ambrose first. Still not believing what I saw him do. He tried to protect Nyx when he could have saved…
My heart swells, aching for him in a way I can’t describe.
I put my hands on Ambrose’s chest, preparing to use my magic to help him heal, but before I do anything, I can feel him breathing.
“Thank gods,” I say.
Ambrose opens his eyes with tears staining them.
And suddenly, I’m not strong. My own tears mirror his.
I jump to Nyx, placing my hands on his chest. I feel nothing.
“No!” I scream, pouring my magic into him. But he’s so cold, and I have no idea how to use my magic to heal.
Ambrose moves behind me for one second, and then he’s on Nyx. Pouring his magic into him.
“You don’t get to fucking die. Not now. Not after everything,” Ambrose yells at Nyx as his magic pushes through him.
“Please, please, please,” I pray to the gods. Whether he’s my mate or not, he has to live. They both do.
We get to live, whether it’s a happily ever after or not. We all live. Forever.I demand of them.
Time passes. Forever and a day.
“He’s dead,” I whisper.
Ambrose leans back on his heels, and then Nyx’s chest rises.
No, it’s my imagination.
“No, Nyx isn’t dead. He’s not the sacrifice—Emeric is,” Ambrose says.
I bite my lower lip just to feel something. Anything but the ache in my heart.
And then Ambrose screams. A guttural yell, roar of an alpha wolf, like nothing I’ve ever heard before. A sound of mourning for a friend who will never come back.
I focus on Nyx’s timid breathing, begging him to come back fully, but he stays unconscious. Like he knows that Ambrose and I need a moment first before he returns to me.
“You saved him. You saved Nyx,” I say.
“When I could have tried to save Emeric,” Ambrose says.
More tears well in my eyes. I cared about Emeric. He was a good man who didn’t deserve to die. But I’m thankful to Ambrose for saving Nyx, despite everything.
“You couldn’t have saved Emeric. No one could. He was who the gods chose.”
“And who did the gods choose for you?” Ambrose asks.
I swallow hard, unsure of how to answer that. How to explain everything I learned, or when it will even feel important.
“He doesn’t love her, you know,” Ambrose says suddenly.
“What? Who?”