Chapter Forty-One

Amelia didn't sleep that night.

She sat by the window, staring at the city below, her fingers pressed to her lips, thoughts racing too fast to hold onto.

Celeste was sleeping—or at least pretending to. The weight of exhaustion had finally pulled her under, but even in rest, she looked fragile. The soft rise and fall of her breathing did nothing to quiet the storm raging inside Amelia's chest.

A soul bond.

The words wouldn't leave her.

Nathaniel had left hours ago, giving them space to think, but his warning remained like an echo in her mind. They're not going to wait.

Whoever they were, Amelia knew he was right. The people after Celeste—the ones who had stolen the painting, who had locked that warehouse down before they could even get close—they weren't backing off. And the crack on Celeste's wrist wasn't slowing down.

If she didn't do something, she was going to lose her.

Permanent. That was what Nathaniel had said. If she did this, there was no going back. No loophole. No escape.

Amelia pressed her hands against her face, exhaling shakily.

She had spent her whole life running from permanence. From commitment. From anything that had the power to break her. And now, she was being asked to do the one thing that terrified her more than losing Celeste—choosing to keep her.

She turned her head, watching Celeste sleep.

Her dark lashes fluttered faintly, lost in a dream Amelia could only hope was peaceful. She had always looked at Celeste like she was something delicate, something that needed to be handled with care. But Celeste wasn't fragile. She had fought tooth and nail for her place in this world, had survived things no one should have to survive. And yet, here she was, slipping through Amelia's fingers like smoke.

Amelia clenched her fists. No. Not yet.

She stood abruptly, pacing the room, running a hand through her hair. She wasn't ready for this. But she wasn't ready to lose Celeste either.

A soft voice broke the silence.

"You're thinking too loud."

Amelia froze, turning to see Celeste watching her sleepily from the bed. The dim glow of the city lights made her look almost ethereal, her face half-shadowed, half-gold.

"Sorry," Amelia muttered, sinking onto the edge of the bed. "Didn't mean to wake you."

Celeste shifted, propping herself up on her elbow. "You didn't." Her gaze softened. "But you're worried."

Amelia swallowed, looking away. "Of course I'm worried."

Celeste reached out, her fingers brushing over Amelia's wrist. "You don't have to do this, you know."

A bitter laugh escaped Amelia before she could stop it. "Don't have to?" She shook her head. "Celeste, if I don't, you—" Her throat tightened. "You'll disappear."

Celeste didn't answer right away. She traced a small circle against Amelia's wrist, the touch grounding. "I don't want you to make this choice just because you're afraid of losing me."

Amelia inhaled sharply.

"I am afraid of losing you." Her voice was raw, stripped bare. "But that's not the only reason."

Celeste's expression flickered with something unreadable. "Then why?"

Amelia hesitated.

Because she couldn't imagine a world without Celeste in it. Because from the moment she walked into her life, she had been the one thing Amelia hadn't wanted to run from. Because she mattered in a way nothing else ever had.

She didn't know how to say any of that.

So instead, she just said, "Because you belong here."

Celeste's lips parted slightly, her gaze searching Amelia's. "With you?"

Amelia exhaled shakily. "With me."

Celeste didn't speak, but something in her eyes softened, something that made Amelia feel like she was standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting to jump.

"I don't know what's going to happen," Amelia admitted. "But I do know one thing."

Celeste tilted her head slightly. "What?"

Amelia tightened her grip on Celeste's fingers.

"I'm not going to let you go."