“How do you expect me to make a decision like that? There has to be a better way,” I sputter.
She shrugs, her lips sliding into somewhat of a smirk. “If you find one, I’d love to hear about it.”
I scrunch my face, suddenly fully aware of who I’m talking to. If she doesn’t know whether or not a better way exists, how the hell am I going to?
“Well, my time here’s up,” she chuckles quietly to herself, as if she just told an inside joke. “Good luck, Autumn. I’m rooting for you.”
Before I have the chance to respond, she bursts into a constellation of light particles, each twinkling until they fade out of existence before my eyes.
I stare at the spot where she stood until my legs give out and I drop to the floor, kneeling beside Wade’s bed.
What do I do? If I follow the advice of Lachesis, am I playing right into their hands? Could it be a scheme to perpetuate this curse? Then again, what if it’s not? What if this really is the only way to make things work?
Being a sin-eater doesn’t sound ideal—hell, it sounds downright awful when I think about it. But if it means protecting those around me, I’d damn myself to a thousand hells.
Besides, if I don’t, what would it mean for Wade? For myself…our child?
We’re already backed into a corner.
There’s no telling if Lachesis was telling the truth about Wade’s mark. If she’s right and the mark was to somehow hide him from the Fates, why would his father lie to us? Does that mean Wade could still become an Angel of Death? Or will he be punished for trying to fly under their radar?
Even if the Fates let me live long enough to give birth—and I highly doubt that—our child will be cursed just like I am. It will never end until someone puts a stop to it. Or until the Blackwoods die out completely, regardless of what other families might be entangled in the web, too.
No, there really isn’t a choice.
I have to do whatever I can to end the curse for us all before I run out of options. If it means trusting Lachesis’s advice, then so be it.
A fresh sense of nausea rolls through me. I swallow hard, unsure whether it’s morning sickness or nerves. Either way, it’s my body’s response to the decision formulating and becoming more concrete. I wish things were different. I wish I had been able to tell Wade about this pregnancy and we could have talked about it. He would have been so excited—of that, I have no doubt.
As it stands, he might never even know.
I lift my forehead from the bed rail and look up at his resting face. For the moment, he looks so peaceful, but the inky black tendrils have managed to snake their way up to his neck. Dark-purple streaks have interwoven themselves with the black, giving off a strange air of oppression.
Pushing up to a stand, I run my fingertips along the tendrils. “What should I do, Wade?” I whisper.
I know what he’d tell me. He’d tell me to find another way. He’d tell me trusting the Fates—hell, trusting Dominic—was naive.
We’d be researching sin-eaters, the lore and history, and most likely, searching for another way to make this work. But we’d end up at the same conclusion. If my father spent his whole life looking for a loophole and came up short, how can I be expected to find the answer in a few short months?
Exhaustion threatens to pull me under and my thoughts turn into a foggy mess.
Running my fingertips from Wade’s collar bone to his lips, I sigh. Maybe I should just rest on this and see what I think then. It’s been a long, depleting day. Maybe some sleep, even for a little bit, would help me to clear my head.
I look around the room, but none of the chairs look entirely comfortable. My gaze shifts back to Wade and a fresh wave of despair crashes over me. If this is my last night with him, I won’t spend it apart.
Without another thought, I carefully move all of the wires and tubes over to the left side of the bed and crawl in beside Wade. I inch closer, resting my head on his chest and wrapping my right arm around his torso. For the longest of moments, I lay there, listening to the sound of his shallow breathing and the palpitations of his heart. Even with all that’s gone on with him, I can still feel him here with me. He’s still attached to his body, still fighting to return.
Closing my eyes, I settle into the loaded moment, trying to pretend I can’t hear the beeping of the machines or the sounds of people in the hallway. Darkness comes for me, claiming my thoughts and I let it tug me under.
I don’t know how long I slept, but I’m startled awake by the sounds of alarms. Blinking the away the confusion and disorientation, it takes me a moment to realize where I am and what’s actually going on.
Nurses pour into the room, with Dr. Lockstad close behind. Her hair is pulled into a braid—different from the last time I saw her.
“You shouldn’t be resting here,” a male nurse says, extending a hand to help me off the bed.
“I—I know,” I say, trying to get my faculties back online.
“I’m sorry, you’ll need to step outside, Ms. Blackwood,” Dr Lockstad says, sweeping her arm toward the door. Unlike before, there’s an edge of panic that makes my stomach lurch.
“Is he—? He’s going to be okay, right?” I sputter, looking back at Wade and then to the monitors as I try to make sense out of what’s going on.
Dr. Lockstad eyes the male nurse. “Can you get her out of here?”
Without a single word, he walks over to me and presses a firm hand to my back. He ushers me
