Page 154 of Devoured

I don’t understand. My thoughts have grown sluggish, disconnected. For several seconds, I can’t comprehend anything but the pain in my chest, the golden blur of Sin’s face, and then—Sin slumps.

His hand loosens from my heart, and he collapses.

Calix stands behind him with a gun. Calix collapses too, and the gun falls to the grass. He drags himself over to us, ripping Sin’s shirt open, searching for the silver bullet that has already permeated Sin’s bloodstream. Unlike wolfsbane, it poisons him immediately. The second it hits his chest, he begins to—to—

“No, no, no…” Calix murmurs, tears pouring down his cheeks, but Sin is—

He is—

I crawl toward them both. I take Calix’s claws in my hands. “Calix,” I breathe—sob. My entire chest heaves as it tries to knit itself back together again. “Calix, stop.”

He doesn’t stop. He can’t stop. A manic sort of desperation contorts his face as he tries to carve the bullet out of Sin while Sin stares up at the sun. While Sin’s mouth opens on a ragged cry. The compulsion must slip from him now. Must fade. Or maybe Cora’s magic has done this on purpose. Maybe it knows what’s about to happen, knows there’s no other ending, and this is one final act of torture. “Leave… it,” he hisses. “My… fault.”

Calix’s shoulders quake as he weeps. Distantly, I realize my cheeks are wet too.

“Shut up, Sin.” Calix swears. Again. Again. His fingers are coated in blood. In so much blood. The silver burns him whenever he touches it, but he doesn’t flinch.

“Leave it,” Sin growls, his voice stronger for a moment before he looses another harsh breath. “I knew—I knew the price when I came—and I tried—I couldn’t kill her. I’m so sorry. I couldn’t hurt… my mother.”

“You can’t die,” Calix snarls. “You have to be okay. Vanessa?” Calix turns to me, his eyes wild. “Vanessa, you can fix this. Use your abilities. Change this. Make this day never happen.”

Nodding frantically, I choke on another sob. I move forward to cradle Sin’s head in my lap, and I force his eyes to meet mine. He does so effortlessly now, his gaze softening when it meets mine.

“Not—a traditional—wedding, huh?” he jokes. Blood spurts from his lips, and he coughs, wincing in pain.

I sob harder, staring into those beautiful burgundy eyes as I say, “Lie to me, Sin. Please—just lie to me.”

“Fine.” A pained smile. A pained breath. His pulse is weakening. I can feel it inside my own, as if part of me is shattering alongside all of him. “I—hate—you.”

Lie.

And all at once, that burgundy drenches the rest of me. It pounds against my skin like rain until I lose myself entirely to the burgundy of laughter, and lies, and secrets. So many secrets through so many years. He tried so hard for so long.

He only ever wanted to be good. To do good.

Another sob rends me in two, and my vision wavers. I blink it away to focus on him again. But the colors are fading like paint drying on a canvas. Like stitches frayed to their last threads. When I manage to snag one, when I curl a finger around it, there is only one color—one memory—left.

Only one lie remaining to tell.

And in my heart, I know why. I know why, and it kills me.

You can’t bring anyone back to life.

The second that bullet lacerated his chest, Sinclair Severi was dead, and his tapestry was completed. The final stitch sewn shut. Cora’s compulsion released him because it did its work. His fate has been sealed. For him, there is no more past. There is no more future.

There is only this one final moment.

There is only a golden prince lying in the emerald grass of his shattered kingdom. There is only a golden prince looking at his cousin.

He tried so hard. He tried to do the right thing for him.

It was all for him.

I can’t rethread the tapestry. I can’t cut it up or stitch it over anew. But I can change the color of that last stitch. I can paint it purple instead of scarlet.

I hate you, he lied.

And the fire of it ignites within me. Because he loves me. He has always loved me.