Aeron, too, remained in place, panting, sweating. “Yes.” More than anything.
“Well, the only way to do that is to die.”
Of course Lysander would say so. “Legion’s bargain—”
“Is voided if you die before the allotted time. That was part of their terms.”
Voided. Voided with his death. She would be free. His friends could live without the threat she now presented. But… “Olivia?” he asked through the sudden knot in his throat.
“Will be able to go home, without the guilt of knowing you hurt someone you loved because of her. Without the burden of wondering if you will one day resent her. Without the shame of leaving you behind, if she decided you would one day resent her. Without being captured once more by your enemy. Without fearing she’ll be forced to kill you.”
She would do anything for Aeron. He knew that now. She would endure any hardship, any mental or physical pain. And that’s what his life would bring her. Pain. No matter what he did, how he lived, he would bring her pain. Key word: lived.
He couldn’t do that to her. Couldn’t give her that choice. She shouldn’t have to endure anything, whether she was willing or not.
Without him, she could live without guilt and shame. Without pain. And that was what got him. The thought of her living as she was meant to: happy, free, safe.
We are to die now? Wrath asked, knowing, as he always did, the direction of Aeron’s thoughts.
I am.
And me?
You will continue on. Crazed, but Aeron didn’t remind the demon of that.
To punish. A statement, not a question.
Yes. To punish. He prayed the demon remembered this after their parting. They hurt her.
So they will die.
So simple. Thank you for everything. Now, for the rest. “You’ll protect her?” he asked Lysander. “Always?”
“Always.”
“And my demon?” If the angel meant to—
“Your demon will be contained. Galen now has Distrust, therefore to balance the scales, I will capture Wrath and give him to Cronus. I have already spoken to the god king, and he has chosen a body. A body that belongs to someone he’ll be able to monitor himself, ensuring she doesn’t aid your enemy or hurt your friends.”
Panic bloomed. “She?” Not Olivia, not Legion. Surely.
“No, not Olivia or Legion,” Lysander assured him, clearly sensing his thoughts. “Have no worries on that score. Legion will return home. And as I told you, I will see to Olivia’s care myself, now and always.”
“Wrath has a mission to complete. Will you ensure that Cronus—”
“I sense the nature of the mission, and I will ensure it’s completed. In a manner you would find highly satisfactory.”
Very well, then. Though he hated that he would have no part in the upcoming massacre, and that’s what it would be. “I have one last request, before I allow you to end my life.”
A nod. “Ask.”
“Olivia craves fun. She needs to have fun.”
Before the last word had left Aeron’s mouth, Lysander had begun shaking his head. “Such a need stemmed from her association with you. Once you are gone—”
“Vow it or the fight continues!” On this, too, he would not bend.
Lysander scowled at him. “I will do my best.”
“That isn’t good enough,” he gritted out. “You live with Bianka, a Harpy. I know the little witch is fun incarnate.”
“Yes,” Lysander said, and there was pride in his tone. Pride Aeron probably exhibited himself when he spoke of Olivia. “Very well. I will make certain they spend time together.”
All the details were taken care of, then.
Death, he thought next. Here it was, staring him in the eye. It had finally caught up with him, and he was willing. There was no resistance on his part. Again, he waited for emotions to consume him but again, they remained absent.
He would have liked to say goodbye to Olivia, to remind her that he loved her. But she would try and talk him out of this. He knew it, just as he knew he would crumble. This had to happen now.
Aeron drew in a deep breath, held it…held it…Then, as he slowly released it, he splayed his arms. “Do it. Take my head.”
Lysander merely looked at him, head tilting to the side curiously, as if he hadn’t expected Aeron to comply. “You are sure?”
“Yes.”
The angel stretched out his arm and the fiery sword once more appeared.
“No!” Olivia screamed from below them. “No! Aeron! Lysander! Please, no!”
Aeron didn’t want her to see this, but it was too late to ask Lysander to whisk them to another location. That sword of fire was already arcing toward him.
Goodbye, Aeron, Wrath said softly.
He felt the first sizzle of contact, and then he knew nothing more.
OLIVIA SCREAMED and screamed and screamed. Aeron. Dead. Gone forever. His beautiful warrior’s body had gone limp, had fallen from the sky. A fall that had seemed to last forever, slow and agonizing, taunting her and making her hope that maybe, maybe, he would land softly, and he would be okay. She had only to reach him…
“Please,” she sobbed, racing out of his bedroom and heading outside. But deep down, she knew. Reaching him wouldn’t make a difference. Aeron. Dead. Gone forever.
LEGION HAD JUST FLASHED BACK to the fortress to tell Aeron what she’d done when she felt her bond to him break. And she knew. Knew. Only one thing would break a bond like theirs.
Death.
She was alive, so that meant— No. No! Never. She shook her head violently. “Aeron! Aeron!” Without their bond, she couldn’t remain here. She would—
“No,” she screamed, even as she was tugged from the fortress and back into hell.
As the flames enveloped her, she heard Lucifer’s scream echo her own. “No!”
CHAPTER THIRTY
OLIVIA CRIED until she had no more tears left, Aeron’s body clutched in her arms. She barely noticed as the sun fell and rose again. Barely noticed as Aeron’s friends descended. Upon seeing what had become of the warrior, Strider had dropped to his knees and howled. Torin had wept. Lucien had waited to escort his soul, but was never summoned, and no one knew why. Maddox had raged for answers, and most of the others had stood staring in shock and disbelief, pallid, shaking. Even Gideon had stumbled his way outside, and oh, his tears had destroyed her. But the reaction that had slayed her most, the one that had torn her up and left her raw, was Sabin’s.
“Not him,” the warrior had uttered brokenly. “Not this man. Take me instead.”
A sentiment she, too, wallowed in.
Like her, they refused to leave the hill. Cameo tried to convince her to rise, to let Aeron go, so that others could hold him and say their goodbyes. She refused. Even slapped those strong arms away from her. Finally, they left her alone, but she knew they waited nearby, watching, wanting their turn.
This couldn’t be the end, she thought, dazed. It simply couldn’t be. No immortal could recover from decapitation. She knew that. But this just couldn’t be the end.
Aeron couldn’t die alone.
The words drifted through her mind once, then a second and third time. Aeron couldn’t die alone.
Aeron couldn’t die alone.
On every level, this death was wrong. Needless, senseless.
Aeron couldn’t die alone—and he wouldn’t.
Hope suddenly bloomed from the darkness of her soul, and though it required every ounce of strength she possessed, Olivia at last released the warrior—no, hold him, never let go—and picked herself up off the ground. Oh, no. He wouldn’t die alone, she vowed.