Amara took a deep breath, the scent of the city filling her lungs. She felt lighter than she had in seven years.
"It doesn't matter who it was, Seb," she said, her voice devoid of any emotion
"Amara—"
Amara looked at Seb one last time. She searched his face for a trace of the brilliant, sharp man she had once adored, but all she saw was a stranger lost in a fog of his own making.
"I just know you got the savior wrong," she said quietly. She didn't want to say another word. The truth was a heavy gift, and he didn't deserve to carry it anymore.
"Wait, Amara, I..." Seb reached out, his fingers trembling. The panic of losing her forever was finally clawing at his throat. He lunged to grab her hand, his voice desperate. "I love you!"
Before his fingers could even graze her skin, a hand like a vice clamped down on his wrist.
