LVIII | Angel of Death

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Slowly getting to an end...

SIX WEEKS AFTER


I WAKE UP NEXT TO ANGEL, AND IT FEELS LIKE BEING HOME.

"Good morning, beautiful," she says, blinking sleepily, her hair mussed and tangled from last night's round of . . . well. You know what.

I could get used to this, I think. Waking up next to her every morning, staring into those hazel eyes. Watching her soft lips pull up into a slow smile.

After what happened that night, Angel didn't recover. Not for a long time. There were days when she couldn't get up, when all she could muster was going to the bathroom. But now, she's slowly getting there. Trying to heal. Trying to find a way to remember him and still move on.

After that night, it was almost a week until she finally asked me.

What made you forgive me?

Because it was obvious, of course, that I had.

Thinking of it, I'm brought back to the memory.


Angel's eyes are dark and hollow, her skin pale, her hair unwashed. I am struck by the familiarity of it. This is what the aftermath of grief looks like.

"What made you forgive me?" she asks.

For a moment, I pause. I'm not expecting this, but I knew it was coming.

"Do you remember," I say, "when you told me to trust you?"

She nods slowly, her eyes hazy and indistinguishable. In this moment, she is not the beautiful Angel I know, with the lush black hair and the glossy red mouth and the bright gold eyes. But she is real, realer than I have ever seen her.

"When Cassian asked me to marry him . . ."

"You said yes."

"Wait," I say. "I thought of our future. I thought of me growing old with him, of our children, of the power we would have. And all I could think was that I wouldn't be happy. I considered it, I really did . . . but in the end, when I imagined being an old lady, sitting on the porch and yelling at kids . . . it was you. It was with you that I saw it-everything, getting married, having children." My voice becomes softer. "It was always you, Angel."

"Then why . . ."

"I cared about Cassian," I explain. "In front of all those people, I couldn't hurt him like that. I needed to tell him in private, and in front of everyone, I couldn't. So I said yes and later that night, I broke it to him. He guessed that I had feelings for you and that was why he went to your house."

And then Angel tells me.

She tells me she never meant to give me up.

That there was a tracker in her arm.

That my grandfather, the Reaper, knew where we were.

We were supposed to run away that night-together.

I believe her. I know it's the truth as certainly as I know it's my own heart. "I'm sorry for assuming," I whisper, but she only hugs me close.

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