Page 86 of The Masks We Burn
“I want you to steal one last thing from me. Will you marry me, Mora?”
“Fu—Yes!” she squeals, wrapping her arms around me before I can even stand.
I envelop her in my arms, twirling her around as the boys pop the confetti cannons Bellamy brought.
Amora looks up into the sky, laughing as the metallic circles rain down, sparkling around her as I release her and press my lips to hers. My fiancée.
My queen.
The one who gave me wings.
Yeah... I know that rhymed. And if Amora finds out, she’ll definitely give me shit.
THE END.
