The Truths We Burn (The Hollow Boys, #2)

by Monty Jay

Sage doesn’t need anyone to slay her demons. I know that. But her inner child did, and even though she probably prayed for an angel instead of an angry man with horns, I’m still going to do what no one else had been able to. Protect her.

“You better take your hands off her, Sinclair.” I know that voice. “Before you get the other side of your face melted off.” Rook.

I stand next to Rook, unsure of what my place beside him means but knowing I want to be there either way. I look over at him, hellfire eyes blazing, knowing that if he were to tumble from the heavens again, falling like lightning from the sky, I would be the thunder that chased after him. I would stay there with him, in eternal flames as long as it was his fire that licked my body.

He is my Lucifer, and it’s time for me to show him I could be his Lilith.

I dip the red tip of the match towards her skin, dragging the rough end across her collarbone just where her scar sits. The same one I wear on my own. The one I gave myself so that fate would know we were in this life together.

I enjoy the times I could catch her like this. Cheeks flushed and unsure of herself. It’s only me who can make her this anxious. I want the world to see her as the strong woman she is. As a fucking force to be dealt with. It makes me hard watching the way people cower around her. Even if she doesn’t see it for herself, I do. Regardless of the power she thinks she lost, people still fear her, and I fucking love that about her. I love that I’m the only one who can break her. The only one that’s able to crawl beneath her skin and bury myself inside of it.

“I don’t need your pain, Rook Van Doren. I want you to give me your word.” I’ve never wanted anything more than I want her right now. I want to fucking devour her. I would do anything to have it. “Tell me what it is,” I say, “and it’s yours. It’s all yours, baby.”

“Promise you’ll come to me. We can help each other. I can help you.”

She had been my greatest heartache. The one who had ripped a hole so deep inside of me that I never thought I’d be able to fill it. I’d gotten used to the hollow valley inside my soul. But she’s also my only salvation. The only altar I’d ever dare to worship.

She will never be able to lead me to the Garden of Eden or Heaven’s pearly gates. It’s too late for that. But we could create our own peace. Our own salvation on our terms. Our own celestial city in the kingdom of eternal flames.

“Dying is easy. Can you burn for me?” I’m not just asking. I’m begging.

I always know. Because I know my girl.

“I’m so goddamn weak for you, Sage.”

“I’m keeping you,” I say with a dry voice in desperate need of hydration. Her fingers sink into my hair, tugging at the ends slightly, and I can feel her lips tilt into a smile. “You’ve always had me, Rook. Always.”

I wanted it done today, but we had to wait for Alistair, who was spending the day with Briar at her uncle’s for his birthday. Had to make sure there was a balance between revenge and love. I’d learned over my time being around them that Alistair had a need for needing to be around when things went down. Not just because he had control issues or needed to be in charge, but because if things went badly, he wanted to be the one to take the fall. To be the one that got them out of trouble and away from any harm. That’s who he is to them. The older protector. The protector. Their constant shadow. And I respect him for that, even if he still hasn’t warmed up to me.

Rook is on fire for me, and I intend on being the oxygen to continue fueling those flames.

We are together. And I’ve never felt more alive, even in a time when I was going through so much sorrow. I know I have him, and I no longer have to face the darkness alone, because he is the light that never goes out. And it’s all mine.

With the gun still in my possession, I lift it up as I spin around, meeting eyes with Detective Finn Breck holding his own weapon to the side of Thatcher’s head, his arm wrapped around his neck, yanking him into his chest to keep him still. Thatcher is still slightly taller, making this situation look quite comical if his life wasn’t in danger. “Why are people always pointing guns at me?” Thatcher sighs, rolling his eyes as if it’s only a minor inconvenience and not a matter of life and death.

thatcher the icon you are

I never believed in Heaven or Hell. Fate or destiny. I never stood outside and wished on falling stars. No, I never believed in anything like that, but I do believe in her.

I’d never seen chaos in such a beautiful state. Such a striking shade of blue, tangled with the fire I love to play with.

“Do you trust me?” I whisper against her mouth. She nods, wrapping her fingers around my wrist. “Always.”

She had never been the innocent Eve in the garden. She had always been my Lilith. My equal. My queen. A phoenix.

My fire god. The one that burns so bright and so fierce, was dwindling out by the second.

“Rook, look at me,” I whisper, “Look at me,” I say again until he finally lifts his watery eyes to my own. There is no hellfire inside them right now. Only a brilliant shade of hazel. There is no devil, no Lucifer. Only a man with a broken soul who does not know how to fix it.

Instead of blaming the world like the rest of us, Rook always chose himself.

His chest expands and falls repeatedly. I can see the deep-rooted fragility I had always known he had. The one he so badly tries to stifle and starve out until it dies. Right now, he is a brittle piece of glass. If I were to squeeze him too tight, he might shatter in my grip, splintering me with the jagged edges. And the thing is, I would let him. I would slice my fingers open until my palms were raw, just to pick up the broken shards. Just so I could help him put it all back together. I would do anything for him, even if it meant hurting myself. He was my fire god. And I live to burn for him.

I almost forgot what it was like to breathe. That was the power loneliness had on a person. It makes you so desperate for human contact, for a soul to cling to. And here, with him, I know what it feels like to breathe. For the first time, I know what it feels like to be wanted. All I want to do is inhale him. To breathe nothing but him into my lungs until that is all that remains.

I liked the idea of him being just as obsessed with me as I was with him. I wanted us to eat, sleep, and breathe each other. The couple that became inherently annoying with how crazy we were about one another. I wanted to be embarrassingly in love with him for the rest of my life.

“Do you trust me, Sage?” He questions, the bass of his voice thrums a chord deep inside of me. “Always,” I mutter, needing him in every way you could need a person.

Something claws at my chest and lights my heart ablaze. The love I have for him eats me alive from the inside out. “It’s us.” Our eyes meet and even though I’m moments from passing out from exhaustion, I don’t miss how the fire in his eyes catches, the steady flame inside of them burning once again. Relit and ready to burn for eternity. “Yeah, baby. It’s us.”

I want to be the person she needs. The person that she runs to when the world hurts her, not the other way around.

I press my lips to hers, not worried about the stain it will leave on my own skin. I drink her down like air, feeling her come alive beneath my touch. My hellfire and holy water. Sometimes she’s sweet, and sometimes she could burn the world down. And I love waking up not knowing which one I’d get.

I’d always thought that falling for Sage was the worst mistake of my life. That she would make me weak. That she would snuff the flame that had always burned so hot inside of me. But she is oxygen, constantly fueling me, for better or for worse. She built me higher, made me burn hotter, gave me strength. I’d been through hell—we had gone through hell—but I was appreciative of that. Because I’d never been able to recognize her grace, had never known what sin was.

You never really know how damaged you are until you try to love someone.

“What are you thinking about?” I ask, practically seeing the wheels spinning. “Your eyes,” she mutters. “It was the first thing I noticed when I came back here. They looked so empty, but now they are different. Less vacant.” “That’s the thing, baby.” I tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. “When we ended, you reminded me how empty I am. How so goddamn empty I have always been. The only thing that fills me is you, and it shows.” It’s true. Every bit of it.

“My fire god.” “Fire god, huh?” “Yup,” she hums, smiling at me behind her long lashes. “Always ready to burn. So bright. If anything happens, I know you’ll be there to hand me the match.”

“I’ll always be there. Always. No matter what happens, you will always have me.” “Because you decided to keep me?” she whispers.

Sage and I came together in a hurricane of rash decisions and lustful disarray, but what we have found beneath all that pain, all the lies, all the truths, was something real.

In the opaque darkness, we found a love that could never be contained.

She was right. Tomorrow the birds will sing, and they will continue to as long as we’re together. “Because you were the only one worthy of keeping.”

Rook did not hold my hand for support. I held his. Because it felt good to stand in front of all the people who’d damned him and claim him as my own. Every broken, twisted piece. It was mine. And yes, I had lost everything. But I had gained so much more.

He tells me, and his eyes burn with the only truth I’ll ever need. I trusted him. No matter what, I trusted him.

I don’t want to be alone.” He brings our hands to his mouth, pressing a searing kiss to the top of my fingers. “You will never be alone again. Never.

Fate might not have chosen me to bear your soul mark, but I will make sure it knows that in this life and all the ones after, I will always be yours. I always have been.”

We are the star-crossed lovers who were doomed from the start, and here we stand. Hand in hand. All the dead poets who wrote of sweet, gentle love cry out in disgust at our sick, twisted version of the emotion. But it’s us. And we are the eternal flame. Forever.

“I think it’s time we finally had a chat, my dearest phantom.”