Graduation (Kingmakers, #5)

by Sophie Lark

“What are you doing here?” I whisper. Her eyes dart around the room, to all the guns pointed directly at her. So soft I can barely hear her, she says, “I just wanted to tell you … that I’m sorry.” Her eyes are huge and wet in her battered face. She blinks. Tears run down both cheeks, cold and silvery like the rain. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen her cry. I stare at her, mouth open, unable to believe what I’m seeing, what I’m hearing. Every sense is keyed to the highest pitch, my nerves so tight they feel like they’ll snap. Any moment I expect to catch a storm of bullets from both sides. “I fucked up,” she sobs. “And you don’t love me anymore.” I’ve lied to Sabrina, mislead her. But this is the one point on which I could never deceive her: “There is nothing you could do to make me stop loving you.” She closes her eyes, tears running down her face in a steady flow. I’d give anything to pull her into my arms, but I can’t move. If I even blink, someone could fire. She looks up at me again, lips pressed together so tight that the split opens, red and raw. It doesn’t matter how fucked up her face is—nothing in this world can take away her beauty. It shines out from within, a fire that can’t be extinguished. Not even now. “It’s not enough, though,” Sabrina says, her voice cracking. “If love was enough then we would have made it.”