Page 121 of The Cost of Blood and Bonds

I feel a chasm splitting open in my chest. A sob tears from my throat, and my ribs scream in protest. The pain lances through me, sharp and sudden, and I gasp, curling in on myself.

“Gemma—”

“I love you, Ryewood.” Every sob pulls at my stitches, causing fire to lance through my ribs with every breath. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Because choosing him means losing her.

“Shh, shh, shh.” His hands cradle my face, and his touch is so tender it cracks me open even further. “Gemma, sweetheart, look at me. Look at me.”

I try, but everything is blurred.

“We’ll go back.” His voice cracks, but he pushes through. “We’ll go back, okay? I’m sorry. I’m sorry I asked. We’ll go back.”

“Ryewood—”

“I didn’t mean to—I shouldn’t have—” He presses his forehead to mine. “Breathe, little fox, please. You’re hurting yourself.”

“I want to stay.” I can barely get the words out through the sobbing. “I want to. I want you⁠—”

“I know.” He folds me into him, mindful of my ribs but holding me like I’m the only thing keeping him upright too. “I know, sweetheart.”

I press my face into his neck and let myself break against him. He holds me through it, one hand in my hair, the other wrapped tight around me.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs. “I’ve got you.”

When the sobs slow and I can breathe again, he slides one arm beneath my knees and lifts me. I curl into him and press my face into his neck, letting the cedar and moss wash over me. He carries me to the bed and lays me down with a tenderness that makes my chest ache all over again. Then he climbs in behind me, curls his body around mine, and lets his arm settle around my waist. His lips brush my hair.

“I love you.” I feel the fight leave his body—the surrender and the quiet decision to love me without conditions. “Whatever you need. Wherever you need to go, I’m yours.”

Chapter 39

Ryewood

It’s been twelve days since the blast, twelve days in this cabin. Twelve days of watching Gemma heal, holding her through the pain, falling deeper in love with her than I ever thought possible.

And now we’re leaving.

Olin has the horses ready, two of his own that he insisted we take. Grier is outside securing our packs. And I’m standing in front of Marel and Olin with a pouch of gold that feels far too light in my hand for what they’ve given me.

“This is too much.” Marel tries to push the pouch back into my hands. “We didn’t do this for the money.”

“I know you didn’t.” I close her fingers around it. “That’s why it won’t ever be enough.”

Silently, I promise myself I’ll send more.

“Son—” Olin starts to protest, but I cut him off.

“You saved her. You cared for us like we were your own when we had nothing.” I shake my head. “I’ll never be able to repay that.”

Marel opens her mouth to protest, and I pull her into an embrace. She laughs, surprised and warm, and hugs me back.

“Just keep her safe,” she whispers. “That’s all we ask.”

“I will.” And it’s not a promise. It’s deeper than that, woven into the foundation of who I am. I don’t care what it costs. I only care if it’ll be enough.

Olin claps me on the shoulder when I pull back. He doesn’t say anything, but his eyes say enough.

Behind me, I hear Gemma’s slow footsteps. She’s moving better now, still careful and holding her side, but upright.