"I have been made to protect you. Even in death, I will find a way." -Crooked Kingdom

Still.

Everything was still. My heart, my body, even my voice, but my soul was thrown into chaos as I felt myself take those last breaths.

I don't want to die.

I don't want to die!

Please.

It was a cry, a plea, to someone, anyone to save me. There were people I loved, places I needed to see, things I never got to say.

How was this fair? This was our second chance and it was ripped away so early, so easily. I felt myself realize that I had let down Leya and Rafael once again by dying. All they wanted was to be together. Each time their humans ruined it.

Death is made out to be peaceful. As my chest rose and fell for the last time, I knew I would never be at peace, not without him.

The stillness is gone. For a second, I am floating. There is light and as quickly as it comes, it disappears.

I awake with a gasp and bulging eyes. My body feels ignited but there's something wrong. As my vision clears, I take in the marble temple, now occupied by my family and friends. My chest still hurts from Donata's arrow but I ignore the pain as I feel something much worse than death.

With all the strength I have, I raise my right hand, still caked with Donata's blood, and bring it to my heart. I'm not sure why I do it, it just feels right at the moment. For a second, I have hope that this is not what I think it is, but when I find that my heartbeat is slow and steady, I know.

I scream. It's full of pain and agony. My parents are poking and prodding, hoping to help my wounds but I just want them to stop. I need it all to stop.

"Tesoro, I know it hurts now but it will get better. You will heal in no time, we've cleared most of the wolfsbane out from the wound," my dad says, as he holds my hand.

My scream shifts into a sob as I realize the truth. My eyes search for Giovanni and when I see them I know.

I know it will never get better.

"No! No! NO!"

"Alessandra-"

"Get away from me! All of you!"

"Alessandra, we just want to-"

"Stop! Stop!"

Tears blur my vision as I stand up. I sway for a moment but then I'm running. I feel my wound protest at the sudden movement but I know what I'm hunting for.

Death.

Only a mere 10 feet away from me lies the man I love. His beautiful smell of pine is cloaked by the stench of death. I collapse next to him. My knees dig into the floor as I stare at his body.

I notice his lips first. They're dry and losing their color. Many wounds and bruises litter his body. I search for any that could have been fatal but come up short. Seeing him like this, helpless, makes me want to resurrect Donata just so I can pierce another arrow through her heart. Her goons must have tortured him to death.

I couldn't save him.

At first, all I can do is stare. I want him to open his eyes and smile that smile he only uses on me. I want him to make fun of my terrible blankets. I want him to hold me. Hell, I'm okay with us going back to hating each other as long as he's alive, as long as he's here with me.

Each thought sends more tears down my cheeks until I'm shaking as sobs escape me. I'm unable to hold myself up any longer and just lay on his chest. Many nights I fell asleep like this, my head on his chest, his heartbeat thudding away, but there is no sound, no movement.

Empty.

I hear the crunch of leaves behind me as my family and friends approach. They do not say anything as I mourn.

"How did he die?"

My voice is small and raspy as it comes out. I need to know but a part of me cannot stand visualizing it. I do not want to think about him in pain. I don't want him to have had to feel the lack of peace I felt as I died.

I want to scream at the goddess. Why did you let me live? If we were both close to death, why spare one? An existence without my mate feels worse than death.

I felt myself die.

How am I here?

A part of me acknowledges that this is how Lorenzo felt when Rosanna died. I understand it now, the mass murders. I would do anything for another chance with him even if it meant breaking my morals.

I push myself off his chest and turn around when no one answers the question.

"Tell me!"

My parents look stricken. My dad goes to answer but my mom stops him.

"Sweetheart," she whispers.

"Mama, just tell me, please."

She pulls out a paper from the back of her pocket. It's folded into a tiny square but I can smell his scent on it.

"This is for you," she says.

She places it in my hands and I know that whatever I'm going to read will ruin me.

My hands shake as I unfold the paper. Everyone watches me with trepidation.

Sometimes, not knowing is the better option.