A torto si lagna del mare chi due volte ci vuol tornare.
He ought not complain of the sea who returns to it a second time.
DAYS BEFORE DIVORANDO: 13
There were worse places to die.
The moon hovering just above the horizon seemed twice as large as it had in the city. Alessa sat on a large piece of driftwood, running her palms over the rough bark until something caught. She pulled the splinter free and tossed it into the grass, then squeezed her finger until a trickle of blood dripped into her palm.
If she’d been another girl, in another life, perhaps she’d be sprawled on a beach blanket with someone she loved, counting stars, trading kisses, and watching the ripple of moonlight on the waves. But that life was not for her.
Dante once described this beach as the most beautiful place he’d ever seen, and now it would be the last place she’d ever see. That would have to be enough.
All she’d asked in return for years of her life, her family, her name, was to not be alone when the monsters came. To face death on that cliff with a partner by her side.
If she’d died, she’d have died a hero.
If she’d suffered, at least she wouldn’t have suffered alone.
That was the deal. That was the promise.
Lies. All of it.
The gods had given their verdict.
Either humans were a loose thread to be snipped, or humanity wasn’t the problem, she was. Either way, she had no choice.
Her heart was still beating, but she was death. Not created by Dea, to save. But by Crollo, to usher in the end.
She couldn’t connect. Couldn’t save Saverio.
Would she be welcomed to the heavens for trying, or had her soul blackened the day her hands became weapons?
Smearing tears across her face with a hasty swipe of her arm, she tore off her dress. The last mark she’d leave on the world, a stained wedding gown in the dirt.
Clad in a thin slip, she walked into the ocean.
When it grew too deep to stand, she swam.
She couldn’t force herself to drown, but if she kept swimming, her arms would eventually grow too weak to carry her back. The water would close over her head, a new Finestra would rise, and her family, her friends, Dante—everyone except her—might have a chance to live.
Ivini said the only way to save the island was to sacrifice her, but sacrifice demanded loss. It required a choice. Her choice.
She’d die if she had to, but not as a victim.
If anyone was going to get a shrine for killing the False Finestra, it would be her.
A poorly timed sob left her choking on a mouthful of water as she passed the rock in the center of the cove. She ordered her body to accept it, to allow the water to flood her lungs, but panic sent her arms thrashing, grasping.
Her hands met stone and she hauled herself onto the flat surface, gasping and coughing.
So selfish, she couldn’t even drown herself to save the world.
Hugging her knees to her chest, she stared across the quiet ocean. Time and space had no meaning on the day of endless night.
At a distant splashing, her numbness flared into anger. All those years hating her loneliness, and when she needed it, she was denied. She didn’t want to see anyone.
“I’ve been searching for hours.”
Even him. Especially him. Dante pulled himself onto the rock.
“You found me,” she said, sounding dead to her own ears. “Now leave.”
The night concealed him, but she didn’t have to see to know what he looked like. Memories were more vivid than anything she could make out in the darkness.
“It wasn’t your fault.” His hand found the base of her neck, kneading gently, but she didn’t lean into his touch.
“It’s always my fault.”
Her island—her people—were doomed, and there was only one way to save them: by sacrificing herself. And she didn’t want to. She wanted to pretend she was just a girl, to forget everything beyond the beach and stay there forever with the beautiful, stubborn man who didn’t flinch at her touch or shy away from her like the rest of the world.
He was the ghiotte, but she was the monster.
“Did you hear me?” he said, low and insistent. “Kaleb’s alive. Unconscious, but alive.”
“How do you know? You weren’t there.”
“I came back, but you were already gone. The doctors said he’ll pull through.”
“Fine. Kaleb’s alive.” Maybe if she emerged from the bone-deep numbness, she’d be relieved, happy even. She hoped not. Feelings would only make it harder to do what she had to. “If I can’t keep a Fonte conscious through a wedding, I can’t keep one alive through a battle. I can’t save us.”
She didn’t realize she was shaking her head until he took her face between his hands.
No matter how far she ran, she would always be dragged back to that wretched peak where she would fail and watch her whole world end. Her fault. Dante’s love was just one more tie binding her to the life she never wanted.
Hot tears rolled down her cheeks. “I’m so tired of trying and failing and hurting people. I don’t want to do this anymore.”
“Then don’t.”
“I have no choice.” She wanted to rip down the sky and shred it with her fingernails, to pluck every star from the fabric of the heavens until the fathomless darkness matched the void inside her.
“You always have a choice.” He held her face, forcing her to look in his eyes. “If you don’t want to go back, we won’t. We’ll find a cave, fill it with supplies. Barricade ourselves inside until the scarabei die out.”
“I’d be a traitor. A pariah. Even if Saverio somehow survived, I’d be an outcast for the rest of my life.”
He shrugged. “You make that sound like a bad thing.”
A sound escaped her lips somewhere between a wet laugh and a strangled breath. “Thousands of people would die.”
“True.” He pointed at a patch of grass beyond the sand. “We could build a little house right over there.”
“Amidst the barren land decimated by a swarm of voracious demons.”
“Plants grow back.”
“Before we starve?”
“I’d fish for our dinners.”
She sighed. “And I’d raise chickens.”
“You’d probably name them and talk to them constantly.”
“I’d have to, or I’d drive you up the wall with my chatter.”
Dante ran his thumb over her cheek. “We could get a cat.”
He was offering her everything she’d ever wanted. But there would be no friends visiting for supper. No family. No strangers, even. Only her and Dante and a little house on a perfect beach. Her dream, broken and warped.
She crashed into him, kissing him so fiercely he fell back. Her knees scraped the stone on either side of him, and he caught a breath, but instead of talking sense into her, his hands found her waist.
Hot, insistent, demanding, she dared him to try and soothe her, but instead of dousing her fire, he met it with his own. She burned hotter and brighter until she was sure she’d flame out like a dying star and destroy everything around her.
Then, shuddering breaths became shuddering sobs and he held her as she cried.
Running his fingers through her hair, he whispered dreams that would never come true and sunny days they’d never see, in the whiskey-sweet voice she loved so much, his words slow and languorous, as though they had forever.
When her body was wrung out and she’d run out of tears, Alessa let Dante help her into a sitting position. “If we don’t die, can we come back here?”
Dante looked up at the moon, vulnerability in his expression. “You really think you’ll want to be with a ghiotte when you’re everyone’s favorite savior?”
“I haven’t saved anyone yet.”
He lifted her hand to his lips. “I don’t know about that.”