Chapter 166
Lirael
"At dawn? After spending all night at your father's estate?" I moved closer, my hands automatically checking him for injuries. "Sebastian, what happened? Did you get the suppressant?"
"No."
The single word hit me like a physical blow. No suppressant. No treatment. No way to manage the entropy that was slowly killing him.
"Then we're going back," I said immediately, already reaching for my jacket. "We're going to march in there and demand—"
"Lirael." His hands caught my shoulders, stopping me. "I'm not going back. I made my choice, and I'm at peace with it."
"At peace with dying?" I twisted to face him, anger and fear warring in my chest. "You think I'm going to just accept that you're giving up?"
"I'm not giving up," he said, his amber eyes meeting mine with intensity. "I'm choosing. My father wanted me to beg, wanted me to prove I'd put family duty over personal conviction. And I couldn't do it. I couldn't sacrifice what we have for his approval."
I stared at him, seeing the truth written in every line of his exhausted face. He'd walked away. Had chosen me over the suppressant, over his family, over his own survival.
And all I felt was terrified.
"So you sacrificed your life instead?" My voice came out smaller than I'd intended. "That's not noble, Sebastian. That's stupid and stubborn and—"
"Necessary," he finished gently, his hands sliding up to cup my face. "It was necessary for me to prove—to myself, to him, to you—that I meant what I said when I chose you. That I wasn't just making empty promises."
I wanted to argue, wanted to scream at him. But looking at his face, seeing the absolute certainty in his eyes, I understood. This wasn't about me. This was about him finally choosing to be the man he wanted to be instead of the Alpha his father had tried to create.
"You're an idiot," I said, but my voice had gone soft. "A noble, self-sacrificing, absolutely infuriating idiot."
"I know." He kissed my forehead, then my nose, then my mouth—soft touches that felt like apologies and promises. "But I'm your idiot. For however long I have left."
"No." I pulled back enough to look him in the eye, feeling something fierce settle in my chest. "You don't get to do the tragic hero thing. We're going to figure this out, we're going to find another source for the suppressant, and you're going to live."
"Lirael—"
"No," I repeated more firmly. "I didn't survive Genesis Foundation just to lose you to your father's spite. We're going to fix this. Together."
He stared at me for a long moment, and I saw something shift in his expression—hope, maybe, or exhaustion finally winning out. "Okay," he said finally. "We'll try. But first, I need to take you somewhere. I need to show you something."
"What kind of something?"
"The kind that requires me to take you to Derek's grave," he said. "The kind where I introduce you to my brother and explain why I'm not as scared as I should be."
I wanted to argue that we didn't have time for cemetery visits, that we needed to start making calls and researching alternatives. But looking at his face, seeing how much this meant to him, I couldn't do it.
"Okay," I said softly. "Take me to meet your brother."
---
Sebastian
The drive to the cemetery felt different with Lirael beside me, her hand resting on my thigh. Dawn was breaking properly now, painting the sky in shades of rose and gold.
Derek's grave looked the same as it had an hour ago—simple headstone, photograph of a boy who'd never gotten to grow up. But having Lirael here changed it somehow, made it feel less like a monument to failure and more like a bridge between the brother I'd lost and the future I was trying to build.
She knelt in the grass without hesitation, her fingers tracing Derek's name carved into the stone. Shadow settled beside her with his massive head resting against her leg.
"He looks happy," she said finally, glancing up at me. "In the photo. He looks like someone who loved life."
"He did," I said, kneeling beside her. "He loved music, loved beauty, loved the idea that there was more to existence than power and survival. He used to tell me that being strong didn't mean being cruel."
"He sounds like someone I would have liked."
"He would have loved you," I said with certainty. "Would have recognized in you the same thing I saw—that fierce refusal to be diminished, that stubborn insistence on maintaining your humanity."
I told her about Derek then—about the brother who'd dreamed of being a musician, who'd practiced violin for hours every day, who'd believed there was beauty worth preserving. About watching him deteriorate as the entropy took hold, about the terrible choice I'd had to make, about the cliff edge where he'd chosen to end it on his own terms.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered when I finished. "I'm sorry you had to make that choice."
"Don't be sorry," I said. "Be angry. Be furious that this is what my family does to its children. Be angry enough to help me prove there's another way."
She tilted her face up to look at me, tears tracking down her cheeks. "I promise," she said fiercely. "I promise I'll bring him the best violin I can find, that I'll help you build the kind of life he would have wanted you to have."
I kissed her then, tasting salt and sorrow and stubborn hope.