Page 141 of Heart of Thieves

So, though the thought terrifies me, I clear my throat and say, “It won’t be just me. My heart is not my own. It’s in you”—I nod at Enzo— “and now in you, too.” I cast my eyes at the tear in the front of Nic’s tuxedo, and as I do, their heartbeats blaze hotter in my own chest. Enzo’s wariness, Nic’s fatigue.

Both of their love.

“You’ll hold me up. You’ll keep me strong.” My voice cracks as I meet Enzo’s gaze. “I. Trust. You.”

The words I once spoke as an Unbreakable Lie come out solid and hard and, this time, true.

“I don’t have a body, Lola,” Enzo whispers. “What if you sending my power into that new stone makes me cease to exist?”

I shake my head, fear slicing through me. “I’ll send her magic into that new shard. I’ll keep the rest of yours out.” Even as I say it, I know I can do it. Their magic, though similar, feels different. I can keep them separate. I can make sure to focus only on hers. He’s weaker now, but he’ll still be here.

His eyes glisten, but he sniffs and nods. “All right, Lola. We can try.”

We turn to face Laurel. Enzo grasps my left hand, and Nic steadies himself so he can grasp my right. We look up to the sky as the moon slides completely in front of the sun, plunging everything into darkness so complete the stars wink to life above us.

Totality.

“Estelle!” I shout.

She lands a kick to Laurel’s gut, sending her careening backward, then turns to me. “Yeah?”

“It’s time.”

Estelle frowns, glancing up at the eclipse, then nods, stepping aside.

Laurel rights herself, rolling her neck, fury boiling in her eyes when she catches sight of Nic, Enzo, and me staring her down. “Who do you think you are?” she snaps, bolting toward us, soullight building in her palms.

“We,” I say as I smile, “are the Devious.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

ENZO

Starlight rips through Lola, but I hang on to her hand, grounding her, reminding her I’m not going anywhere.

The ice in my own body rears its head, clawing through me like frostbite. But I do not cry out, nor do I cower. I bare my teeth and set my jaw.

Laurel screams as light blazes through the open wounds on her wrists and hands, incinerates from her pupilless eyes, pours from her wailing mouth. The threads of it crackle and spark against Lola, pooling in the crevices and curves of her body, leaking as tears from her eyes, drenching her hair in glowing sweat. But she does not back down.

She stands. Even when the pain in our heart becomes unbearable. Even when her knees wobble and her spine arches. Even when a screech tears from her lips and her hand trembles in my grasp. She hangs on to Nic and me as the magic engulfs her.

And I see in Lola the power I knew was there from the beginning. The power I feared for so long, feared so deeply I was willing to lock her away like a prisoner, lie to her even when it broke her, manipulate her even when my guilt told me it was wrong.

But now I know I never should have feared her.

Magnolia St. James is fierce and wild and loyal and full of so much love. Not worthy of fear or imprisonment. Worthy of awe. And now it’s time I step back and let her shine.

Our pulse stutters. We’re nearly there.

Laurel grays, wilts, caves in as her magic gutters.

The new moonshard grows brighter.

But Lola’s screams intensify, her knees buckling as her hand gripped in mine turns so cold my fingers go numb. She pitches forward and only doesn’t hit the dirt because Nic and I are keeping her upright. Gritting my teeth through my own agony, I try to lift her, but as I use my other hand to brace her upper arm, I realize how frigid she’s become.

It’s worse than touching ice. It’s a cold that burns like the Deep. One that nearly peels back my fingernails and turns my skin blue.

Hissing at the contact, I hoist her upright. Her eyes glow white like Laurel’s, and the soullight piercing through her vibrates, shorting out in spasms every time she moves.