Wicked Ties (The Tether Trilogy Book 2)
Wicked Ties: Chapter 61

To our favor, Korah doesn’t have us go through Rukane Forest again. Using her energy, she transports us to the front of Blackwater Manor—all of us, including our wolves and Onyx. Before doing so, she kept Decius wrapped in her light and told us we’d likely never see her or him again.

Now, the first thing Caz and his family do is run to replace Della’s body. Caz snatches the quilt away, as if she’ll be awake now that Decius’ reign has been annulled, but no. She’s still dead, her skin ashen, old blood caked in her gray hair.

Rowan sniffs, Killian shakes his head, and Juniper presses her knuckles to her mouth, fighting tears. Maeve presses a hand to Caz’s back as he stares down at Della.

“Before you go blaming yourself, just know that it’s not your fault, and that Della loved you,” Maeve says in a hushed tone.

Caz continues staring at the body a few seconds longer, his jaw clenching. She’s gone because of me, I hear him think. I’m no good. No fucking good. Couldn’t even keep her safe.

“Caz?” I grab his hand, and he finally pulls his gaze away from Della to slide those glistening blue eyes to mine. “What do you want to do?”

His chin inclines as he puts his focus out the window. “A proper send off,” he says after some time. “We change her clothes, wrap her in black silk, and send her off with the ocean. It’s what she would have wanted.”

“On it,” Killian says, then he taps Rowan’s shoulder. They bend down to pick up Della’s body after wrapping it in the quilt and carry her out of room.

“We’ll replace some clothes for her,” Juniper murmurs, turning away with Maeve.

When they’re gone, Caz stomps out of the room too.

I follow him into his office and replace him yanking a drawer open and snatching out a silver case. He cracks the case open, plucks out a bloom, then scrambles around another drawer for something else. When he doesn’t replace whatever he’s looking for (I assume a lighter), he opens another drawer and shuffles around it chaotically until finally he slams it closed and yells, “FUCK!”

He launches the silver case across the room, and it crashes into a wall, thudding on the floor. Several of the blooms escape, rolling toward a floor vent. Slumping down in the desk chair, Caz drops his head, and his face falls into his palms.

“Oh, Caz,” I whisper. His chair faces the window, and I drop to one knee in front of him. His face is red behind his hands, veins visible and throbbing on his neck. The room goes absolutely still until he unleashes a gut-deep sob. The sob wracks through his body, and he removes his hands to place his head on my shoulder. My throat closes in on itself, but I fight my tears, rubbing circles on his upper back.

“It’s okay,” I whisper.

“It’s not okay. I failed her,” he says, voice thick. He picks his head up, and his eyes are red and glistening. “I told her I’d always look after her, and I failed her.”

There’s a burn in my chest, and at the sight of his bloodshot eyes, my vision becomes blurrier. What do I say to him when it comes to this? Loss. First his mother, and now Della. What do I say to a man who continually blames himself for these losses?

There isn’t much I can say because I feel all that pain balled into a tight knot in the center of his chest. This knot won’t go away, won’t fade. It only lingers, taking up unwanted space. And the truth is, no words will ever erase that sort of pain. No matter how many words people say or how much they try to encourage you, nothing will resolve the agony until you heal. Trying to ignore the grief is like putting a tiny Band-Aid over a gash. It’s useless.

So, I don’t speak—not because I don’t have anything to say, but because after all we’ve been through, with the sight of his dead mother being wickedly impersonated, and now the slap back to reality about Della, it’s a lot to take in, and he needs to pour it out. My Caz is in so much pain, but I’m here. I’ll always be here.

I push higher onto my knees and lace my arms around his neck. I bring his face to my chest, and his quiet sobs continue, tears dampening my shirt, body shuddering as he sucks in breaths. I stroke his hair, rub his back, rest my cheek on top of his damp head. I allow him to dwell in his sadness, his vulnerability, his hurt.

After several minutes, the tears stop, but he stays glued to my chest, breathing evenly, the knot in his chest slowly loosening. I pull away, placing a kiss on the apple of his cheek as I stand. “I’ll let you have a moment to yourself.”

Before I can move away, he catches my hand, keeping me close. Raising his chin, his damp blue eyes replace mine. Don’t leave.

I blink my tears away and nod. ’Kay.