"All I needed was the truth, Harmony, and you had it hid. Why, little sister, didn't you come to me after the rescues instead of running from me?"
Her lips twisted painfully. "Because you should have trusted me. What use do I have for someone who always requires proof? When does the trust begin, Jonas?" The elevator doors slid open as Harmony's head began to pound with the years that stretched behind her. She had wanted to save him for what?
Flinching back from his touch, she stepped from the elevator, wiping at the tears that stained her face, giving no thought to the blood that marred her hands and now streaked her pale expression. She moved woodenly, her concentration on the operating room that lay just beyond the waiting room Jonas led her to.
She could hear Ely's voice, the murmur of the supporting team of surgeons and nurses, the beep of life support. What was said around her didn't matter. She wrapped her arms around her chest and leaned against the wall just outside the operating room and fought to hold onto the only link she had left to Lance.
He was her soul. How had she not realized that he had become her soul in such a short time? That all the barriers she had believed she held in place had dissolved beneath his touch? How had she missed it?
She lowered her head, feeling the loss of the hard, cold core of resolve she had once used to get her through each day. There had been no dreams before Lance. No hopes and no fears. There had been a daily fight to survive, to do what she had set out to do so long ago. She had saved Jonas, and she had been biding her time.
What then?
Harmony realized she had no plans after that. For ten years she had survived on that final goal, had fought mercilessly for it. Alone.
Nights spent killing, days spent trying to sleep through the nightmares that haunted her, and through it all, she knew, she had no plans after that end goal had been achieved. She would have died. Eventually. It wouldn't have taken long for her enemies to tire of attempting to capture her. Eventually, they would have killed her.
And perhaps that would have been best. If she had died before now, Lance would have never felt this need to sacrifice himself.
What had she done? Silent sobs shook her body as she fought to brace herself against the pain.
"We're not going to make it."
Harmony felt her heart stop as she heard Ely speak from the operating room.
"The wound is too severe…"
"The bleeding is growing worse…"
"BP is falling…"
"We can't repair the damage fast enough…"
"BP is critical…"
The hard signal of the heart monitor began to flatline as Harmony's agonized, feral scream tore from her throat.
_________
Lance felt the winds. They whispered over his body as he stood beneath the hot desert sun, his arms widespread, his head lifted to the gentle caress. It reminded him of Harmony. Her scent was in the air, honeysuckle and roses; he could almost taste the soft, delicate treat of her kiss.
He was dying. He could feel the chill racing through his body, competing with the warmth of the sun, and the sorrow that filled him was like a fiery ache. Then he heard his son's laughter and Harmony's gentle voice calling him in. There was no fear in the tone; there was amused indulgence, a comforting, maternal sound he had always loved hearing from his own mother.
Harmony was safe. There could be no regret in her safety; his regret was that his arms weren't there to hold her. He would never taste her laughter, never cradle his child against his chest. He would never know his woman's happiness.
"The price was paid. Blood was shed. Your life for hers," a voice whispered then, gentle, soothing. "Your return depends only upon your own will."
His eyes opened. The winds blew before him, shimmering, iridescent, glittering beneath the brilliant rays of the sun. The force of it was nearly blinding, filled with heat and whispering promises that shook him to the core of his being.
"Are you strong enough to return, child of the wind?" the voice whispered. "Strong enough to hold onto all you died for? You have held your end. A life for a life, blood for blood."
"I can return ? "
"A life for a life. Blood for blood. The bargain was met. Your return depends only upon your desire to be."
He heard the scream then, feral, agonized, a sound filled with such misery, such bleak, resounding sorrow that at first he wondered if it were his own.
Through the shimmering waves of heat and air, he saw her then. She was fighting someone. Jonas. He was holding her to the floor as Megan and Braden attempted to help hold her still. Her hands were clawing at a door, her head tilted back, blood and dirt and tears streaking her face as she wailed his name.