Chapter 84

Chapter 84


Amelia POV

The path narrowed as we climbed higher, jagged stone pressing up through the snow like the spine of the mountain itself. The air thinned, sharp and biting, cutting my lungs raw with every breath. But it wasn’t the cold that unsettled me—it was the silence.

No one spoke. Not Corrin, who usually had a curse or two ready for any occasion. Not Kira, whose smirk was as sharp as her blades. Not even Demian, who had been whispering vows into my hair hours ago.

The silence was thick, like ice creeping into cracks, threatening to split us open.

And always, always, there was Klaus behind me.

I didn’t dare look back, but I felt him there. His gaze clinging to me like a second shadow, heavy, accusing, patient. The way a predator watches prey that hasn’t quite realized it’s already been caught.

Demian must have felt it too, because his hand stayed laced through mine, tight enough to hurt. His thumb traced circles against my skin—calm, soothing—but his grip told another story.

He was ready. If Klaus so much as breathed wrong, Demian would burn the world down to stop him.

And part of me loved him for it.

And part of me feared it.

When we finally stopped to rest, Demian guided me to a flat stretch of rock half-buried in snow. He brushed it clean with his arm before I could sit, then crouched in front of me, pulling my hands into his.

“You’re shaking,” he said softly, his dark eyes searching mine.

“It’s the cold,” I lied.

His mouth twisted. He knew better. “It’s him.”

I glanced away, but his hand caught my chin, gentle but firm, pulling me back to him. His breath misted in the air between us, close enough to kiss.

“Look at me, Amelia,” he said, low, commanding.

I did. Gods help me, I did. And the world narrowed until there was nothing but the heat of him, the steady thrum of his heartbeat against my palms, the way his eyes burned like embers refusing to go out.

“Forget him,” Demian whispered. “Forget his voice, his poison. The only thing that matters is us. Do you hear me? Us.”

My throat tightened. “Demian—”

He leaned in, his forehead pressing to mine, his lips hovering over mine like a promise. “I meant what I said. If this bond kills me, I’ll die happy. But it won’t. Because you’re not my weakness, Amelia. You’re my weapon. My shield. My reason.”

My chest cracked open under his words, raw and aching. “You make it sound so easy.”

His mouth brushed mine, soft, aching. “Loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”

And then he kissed me.

Not the desperate, shattering kiss from before, but something deeper, steadier. His lips moved against mine like he was writing vows into me, sealing cracks I didn’t know how to mend myself. His hands framed my face, holding me like something fragile, though his kiss was anything but fragile—it was fierce, it was claiming, it was him saying over and over again: Mine. Mine. Mine.

I melted into him, the cold forgotten, the world forgotten. For a moment, there was no Klaus, no mountain, no death waiting in the shadows. Just us. Just this.

When we finally pulled apart, my lips were swollen, my breath ragged. His eyes searched mine, as if he needed proof I wouldn’t vanish.

“I love you,” he said.

The words cracked through me like lightning. He’d never said them before—not like this, not raw and trembling.

My breath hitched. “Demian…”

His jaw clenched, but his thumb stroked over my cheekbone, soft. “Say it back. Please. I need to hear it.”

Gods, I wanted to. I wanted to carve it into the snow, into the stone, into his skin. But the words lodged in my throat, caught between fear and truth.

What if love wasn’t enough? What if saying it made it real, and making it real meant it would be the thing that destroyed him?

I swallowed hard, tears pricking my eyes. “You don’t need me to say it.”

“Yes, I do,” he murmured, voice breaking. “Because if I lose you—”

“You won’t.” I pressed my hand to his chest, to the frantic thrum of his heart. “Not while I still breathe.”

His eyes closed, relief flickering through him like sunlight. And though the words still tangled on my tongue, I kissed him again, pouring everything I couldn’t say into the press of my lips, the tremble of my hands, the promise that I was his, even if I was too afraid to speak it.

We didn’t notice the others watching until Corrin cleared his throat. Loudly.

“Well,” he drawled, leaning on his sword, “glad to see the world’s ending but at least somebody’s getting laid.”

My face flamed, heat rushing to my cheeks. Demian didn’t even flinch. He just glared over his shoulder, a growl low in his chest.

Corrin smirked but wisely shut up.

Kira, however, tilted her head, eyes glinting with sharp amusement. “Cute. Let’s just hope your love story doesn’t get us all killed.”

Demian bared his teeth at her, but Elian’s voice cut through before he could snap back.

“Enough.”

We all turned. Elian stood at the edge of the clearing, his cloak whipping in the wind, his face unreadable. But his gaze lingered a moment too long on me, then flicked to Demian.

Tension. Thick as ice.

And behind him, Klaus stood silent. His eyes met mine across the snow, dark and flat.

I couldn’t look away. Not until Demian’s hand squeezed mine, anchoring me back to him.

The march resumed. Hours bled together in endless white. My legs ached, my lungs burned, but Demian never let me fall behind.

As the sun dipped low, painting the snow in shades of blood and fire, Demian leaned close to my ear.

“When this is over,” he whispered, so low only I could hear, “I’m taking you away from all of this. Somewhere no one can touch us. No Klaus, no curses, no blood. Just us.”

My throat tightened. “And if we don’t make it that far?”

He kissed my temple, fierce. “Then at least I’ll have loved you until the end.”

I closed my eyes, letting the words settle deep, heavy and warm, a fragile shield against the storm still waiting to break.

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