Ronan

Chapter Twenty-Five

Rosa laid awake in bed, unable to sleep. Her eyes were wide, stark with fear.

Behind her, the warlock slept, peaceful again. She'd only seen him look so eased in sleep. His arm was flung across her body, holding her close to him. Their sleeping together had become a norm. They'd both accepted their proximity helped him to stay in control of himself. Besides, Rosa wouldn't complain about the adjustment.

Except tonight she couldn't sleep at all. Not when she knew what was coming.

She knew where she'd gotten that prophecy from. A woman had given it to her in the woods of Romania. Sure, she couldn't summon the words of it to head, but she remembered it happening. In her last memory they'd watched, she'd been preparing to go to Romania.

He'll find his prophecy in my next memory.

And then it would be game over for everybody.

Whatever fresh hell the warlock had been planning would be released onto the Other World. All those attacks waiting to happen in the dungeons. Everything he planned would come to life in blood and agony.

My sister.

Rosa had to put her first, exactly like Meg would do for her if their roles were reversed. Sleeping with Ronan was all fun and games until her loved ones—limited as they may have been—got hurt.

She had to do something. Somehow, she had to stop him from getting that prophecy. But what?

There was no way off this realm. Those in the dungeons who had powers couldn't access them within their cells so there was nothing they could do. Nothing short of death could stop him from getting that prophecy.

Nothing short of death.

Her body froze, solid.

Nothing. Short. Of. Death.

There was someone somewhere who'd do everything within their means to stop Ronan from getting that prophecy. Not to protect the allies. Not because they had something relying on it. They wouldn't expect anything from Rosa, either. Hell, they'd stop him from getting it just to spite him. Just because they could.

It's a bad idea.

But it was the only idea she had.

Her brain kept tick, tick, ticking.

No way off the realm.

Technically, if history were to repeat itself, she wouldn't have to leave the realm.

Nothing short of death.

Gods, it was the worst idea she'd ever had. But it's the only idea I have.

Into the jaws of death...

She stopped breathing, closing her eyes to gently pry Ronan's fingers off her stomach. His grip wasn't tight—but fuck his arm was heavy. She lifted it just enough to shuffle out from beneath it, propping it back to his side once again.

She waited a tick, peaking one eye open.

Still asleep.

He hadn't stirred at all, still completely at peace.

Oh Gods, what am I doing?

Crazy shit.

She lowered herself from the bed.

She swore she'd never been so quiet in her life as she shut the door behind herself.

How to do this?

As painlessly as possible. Rosa wasn't good with pain. That kind of shit haunted her for life.

So what do I do? No. Better question. Where should I go?