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He smiles, forehead pressed to mine, lips connecting once again as tears roll down my cheeks.
“You don’t smell like chocolate anymore,” he whispers, breath broken like he’s struggling to bring in any oxygen, and we huff a laugh.
“If I stopped for a single square, we would be dead.”
Tears roll down his cheeks as his bandaged wrists rub against my cheeks. “Aren’t we dying anyway?”
The fire is blocking the exits. There’s nowhere for us to go now. “But we’re dying peacefully.”
And as we lay here, kissing, limbs entangled, flames burning around us, filling our lungs with ash—I realise I’m okay with dying here.
This was always how it was supposed to end.
With flames and ash.
My soul entwined with Kain’s forever. Like they were always meant to be.
My forever love.
My forever sin.
His green eyes lock with mine. “I love you, Jordie.”
Epilogue
1 Year Later
Wilted flowers on a stone grave, surrounded by burnt out candles is a rare sight for me. I’ve never been to a funeral. Nor did I ever think I would be visiting anyone else’s grave. There was never a plot of land dedicated to this at Blackcastle. Never any stone sticking out of the ground.
Now there’s three.
The very first three. On a small hill, covered by a weeping willow.
In loving memory of Cassie Morgan.
Jordie places a rose on the polished stone before straightening and resting her head on my chest.
“I miss her,” she whispers.
“I know you do,” I murmur, placing a kiss on her head.
“She was my best friend,” she sobs. “The only person Dorrian had.”
My chest tightens at the mention of Dorrian. I wish that wasn’t the truth. But it is. Dorrian is… alone with his little boy. Asher and Blake are trying with him more than I am, and I feel guilty when I think about how lonely he must feel.
It’s been difficult to talk to him. Every conversation we have is laced with awkwardness and remorse.
I still can’t believe he had been protecting me for years, when I thought he hated my guts. But after everything we’ve been through, I understand why he did the things he did. He had no other choice. He had people to protect. Me to protect. And he couldn’t do it any other way. I don’t know if I’ve truly forgiven him yet, but I think I’m on the way there.
I hope that one day, we can rebuild what was broken by this cult neither of us asked to be born into. It broke us. I could’ve had a brother. A normal childhood. But I’ll never know what any of that was like. For now, I cling to the good memories I have with Jordie, Asher, and Blake. I never want to remember the things I’ve seen and experienced. I don’t want to relive it. Jordie knows that, and she makes sure I’m okay but never presses. Just a check in every now and then. Maybe there’ll be a time where we can move on from all of it, but the wounds are still fresh.
We both glance at the other graves a couple of meters behind Cassie’s of the two people that sadly didn’t make it out of the fire that engulfed Blackcastle. No ones to say that they weren’t a part of it, but it felt wrong to leave the only bodies that we had no answers to. Who knows what they went through.
Music flows through the completely finished warehouse, people singing and dancing, drinking and mingling.
It’s a sight I never thought I’d see.
It’s warm. The atmosphere, the yellow glowing fairy lights with a rustic decor. People are dancing, laughing. This building is filled with people—victims—of the Westbrook evil. All of them are on their way to healing. It’s not every day you wake up to your town being burned to ash, not knowing that all this time you were only being raised to be slaughtered. The ones who were part of the cult have been sent to rehab centres outside of Blackcastle. Nova honoured Jordie’s wishes without a second thought that night—the town was destroyed, but it’s slowly being rebuilt.
