Page 219 of I Will Mend You
The world falls away, and all that’s left is me and the woman who’s always been the missing part of my soul. Amethyst tastes like freedom, like victory, like sweet salvation. I thread my fingers through her curls, holding her in place. Her body presses against mine, making me wish I could claim her once more while the bastard fries.
A loud cheer breaks the moment, making us part. I turn around to find Jynxson connecting electrodes to his legs. Behind the chair, Tyler attaches the cables to the generator and gives me a thumbs up.
It’s time.
By now, Father is a pitiful mess of blood and sweat and saliva. He jerks back and forth within his restraints, mumbling an incoherent string of apologies.
“Any last words?” I ask again.
His answer is a puddle of urine that elicits a round of applause.
After waiting for a member of the maintenance crew to mop up the liquid, I pick up the thick rubber cord linking the chair’s electrodes to the generator. Silence descends across the chamber, a collective holding of breath, coupled by anticipation so solid that the molecules in the air vibrate.
“This is for my mothers.”
I plug in the cord, and the world lights up with his screams. The sound is brutal, raw, drowning out the hum of the generator. Father’s body convulses, his eyes bulging. The sweat and salivaon his skin evaporates, then turns into smoke, and finally, burning flesh.
As the chamber fills with his stench, I pull Amethyst close, my heart swelling with gratitude. “Thank you for making my dreams come true.”
She turns to me and smiles, her eyes shining with love. “Always.”
Father’s body jerks one last time before slumping on the chair, a hollow shell.
And in that moment, I know I’m finally free.
NINETY-EIGHT
EPILOGUE
THREE WEEKS LATER
AMETHYST
I lean over the mezzanine, staring down into the bookstore Myra inherited from her aunt. It’s crammed with customers, some of whom I recognize from the book fair.
Today is the launch of Rapunzelita, which Myra published under her new imprint. My notoriety and my best friend’s relentless publicity efforts have propelled my book to the top of the charts.
Myra’s store is the only one selling a limited edition with bookplates containing my signature. She claimed to have found a large box of them after inheriting my possessions. Now she’s created a retail frenzy.
Xero’s arms wrap around my waist, pulling me back against his solid chest. He presses a kiss to my neck, sending a shiver down my spine.
“How does it feel to be a bestselling author?” he murmurs against my skin.
“Bittersweet,” I reply with a sigh.
“Why?” he asks, his lips brushing my ear.
“I should be down there.” My gaze drops to the fans clamoring for a hardback of my book. “I want to sign autographs, not be honored posthumously.”
His grip around my waist tightens, and he grinds his erection into my ass. “Want me to cheer you up?”
My breath catches, and I push against his hardening cock. “How?”
“Look straight ahead.”
I obey, my gaze locking on the crowd below. Myra stands on a small podium, delivering a speech about our decades-long friendship. Xero’s hand slips beneath my skirt, his fingers tracing a path up my thigh. Shivers run down my spine, and I turn my head.
“Do it, or I’ll stop,” he growls.