Chapter 283: Chapter 282 - Final Chapter
IYISHA’S POV
Iyisha woke already crying.
Her eyes opened, but she did not understand the ceiling above her. Wood. Gray light. A wall moving with the sea. Her hand grabbed at the blanket, then at her own chest, then at the side of the bed.
Her breathing caught.
"Cena."
Malcolm moved beside her. "Iyisha."
His voice brought everything back.
The pier.
Cena’s hand.
The blood.
The soldiers.
Her head hanging wrong.
Her body falling.
Iyisha jerked upright with a broken sound. Pain hit her ribs, but she pushed through it and tried to get off the bed.
Malcolm caught her before her feet touched the floor.
"No." Iyisha shoved at him. "No. No. I have to go."
"Iyisha."
"I have to go back."
He pulled her against him. She fought him, hitting his chest with weak hands, trying to twist away. Her breath kept breaking before it reached her lungs.
"Let me go," she gasped. "Let me go."
Malcolm held her tighter.
That made her stop. Her hands froze against his shirt. Her eyes lifted to his face.
"She’s dead," Iyisha whispered, choking on the words. Tears ran into her mouth as she tried to pull air in. "Isn’t she?"
Malcolm’s jaw tightened.
"She is."
The answer cut through her.
He pulled her into his chest. "And she saved us."
Iyisha folded into him and sobbed hard enough that her whole body shook. Her fists twisted in his shirt.
"I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry."
Malcolm held the back of her head. "You found her."
Iyisha shook her head against him.
"You got to her," he said. "She knew."
"She was right there all along."
"I know."
"In the end, I just watched them kill her."
His arms tightened, but he did not answer.
Malcolm bent over her. His voice stayed low. "She knew you came. She knew you went through hell for her."
Iyisha choked and cried harder. His hand moved over her back with a softness he rarely showed. She pressed into him, aware that his shoulder was already wet with her tears.
Malcolm kept her against him. "Breathe."
She shook her head.
"Again." His hand pressed flat against her back. "Try."
Iyisha tried. The breath came in broken.
Footsteps hit the passage.
The door opened.
Marybeth came in first. Lance stood behind her, pale but upright. Aljun hovered beside him.
Marybeth saw Iyisha and started crying before she reached the bed.
Iyisha reached for her.
Marybeth dropped beside her and pulled her close. Malcolm stayed behind Iyisha, one arm still around her waist. Iyisha grabbed Marybeth’s shirt and sobbed into her shoulder.
"I found her," Iyisha said.
Marybeth held her harder. "You did," she said, crying with her. "And she knew you were there."
Lance came closer and knelt beside the bed. His hand touched Iyisha’s arm.
"I’m alive because of her," he said.
Iyisha looked at him.
His eyes were red. He swallowed and looked down at his healed wound.
"She saved us all."
Iyisha covered her mouth. The sob still came through her fingers.
Marybeth looked at Aljun. "You’ve been worried sick. Come here."
Aljun moved closer, slow and awkward. Marybeth grabbed his wrist and pulled him down with them. He knelt at the edge of the bed and placed one careful hand on Iyisha’s back.
Iyisha closed her eyes and held on to them.
She still had friends.
She still had them with her.
Even if Cena was gone.
She cried until her body had nothing left to give. Her throat hurt. Her chest hurt. Her face felt swollen and hot, and every breath still shook on the way out.
Lance shifted beside the bed and looked at her with red eyes. "Your eyes are puffy as hell."
Marybeth made a small sound through her tears. "Lance."
"What?" Lance muttered. "She needs a break before crying again. Hydration. Strategy."
Iyisha’s lips trembled.
Then she smiled.
It barely held, but it was there.
Aljun wiped his face fast and looked away. "Damn. Now I’m crying again."
Marybeth stood and crossed to the small table. "We cooked you something." Her voice was rough. She picked up a plastic container and opened it. "It’s not much, but it’s warm."
Iyisha nodded. "Thank you."
She knew she could not eat. Her stomach turned at the smell, and grief sat too heavy in her throat to let anything pass.
Marybeth looked at her and seemed to understand. She set the container near the bed, then took Iyisha’s hand again. "You’re not alone."
Iyisha’s eyes filled at once.
Marybeth squeezed her fingers. "We’re with you."
Iyisha tried to smile again, but it broke before it formed.
Lance caught Marybeth by the wrist and pulled gently. "Let her rest."
Marybeth looked like she wanted to argue.
Aljun stood too and touched her shoulder. "Come on."
Marybeth stayed for one more second, then bent and kissed Iyisha’s hair. "Call us."
Iyisha nodded.
Lance looked at Malcolm. Then he looked at Iyisha. "Eat something. Even a little."
Aljun stopped at the door. "And if you need someone annoying, I’m outside."
Iyisha’s mouth trembled again. "I know."
Aljun nodded once, then followed Marybeth and Lance out. The door closed softly behind them.
The cabin went quiet.
Malcolm sat beside her and pulled the container closer. Steam rose from the food. He took the spoon and stirred it once, then lifted a small amount.
Iyisha shook her head.
"You’ve been asleep for two days," he said.
"I don’t want to eat."
"I know."
She looked toward the small round window. Outside, the sea was dark now. The yacht moved with the waves, and the wood around them creaked in slow, tired sounds.
Malcolm set the spoon down.
His hand moved to her stomach.
Iyisha froze under his palm.
Then the tears came again.
Malcolm leaned closer. "You need to eat for her."
Iyisha looked at him through wet eyes. "Her?"
His thumb moved once over her stomach.
"You want a girl?" she asked, voice shaking.
Malcolm looked down at his hand over her. "I’d like that."
Her face twisted.
He kept his voice low. "I’d like her to look like you."
Iyisha choked on a sob.
"To have your fire," he said. "Your heart. Your stubborn mouth."
A broken laugh came out of her and disappeared into crying.
Malcolm’s eyes stayed on hers. "Your kindness too."
She shook her head, crying harder now. "I’m not kind."
"You are."
She grabbed his wrist and held his hand against her stomach. "You’re not disappointed?"
His face tightened. "About what?"
"That I’m pregnant."
Malcolm stared at her like the question hurt him.
Then he leaned in, slow and close, and pressed his forehead to hers.
"How can I be disappointed," he said, "when it’s with you?"
Iyisha broke again.
Malcolm pulled her into his arms and held her while she cried into his chest, one hand still covering their child between them.
"I’m sorry if you ever felt that way," he said.
Iyisha shook her head against him.
"I’m scared too," Malcolm said.
That made her still.
He looked down at his hand over her stomach. "My family never taught me how to be a father. I don’t have that in me naturally."
A broken laugh slipped out of her. "You’re really bad at comforting me."
"I know."
Her lips quivered again. The laugh collapsed before it could become anything stronger. "She didn’t even know."
Malcolm’s thumb stilled.
Iyisha swallowed hard. "Cena didn’t even know she had a niece."
"She knows."
Iyisha looked up at him.
Malcolm held her gaze. "She knew enough. She knew you. She knew you were carrying something they wanted. She protected both of you."
Fresh tears ran down her face.
"And we’ll tell her," he said.
Iyisha’s breath shook. "Tell who?"
"Our child." His voice stayed low. "We’ll tell her about Cena."
Iyisha pressed her lips together, but another sob broke through.
Malcolm picked up the container and lifted the spoon again. "Eat."
She stared at him.
"You’ve been asleep for two days."
"I don’t want to."
"I know."
He brought the spoon closer.
Iyisha looked at the food, then at him. Her chest still hurt. Her throat felt raw. The thought of swallowing made her stomach turn, but his hand was steady, and his eyes stayed on her like he would wait as long as needed.
She opened her mouth.
He fed her slowly. One small bite. Then another. He did not rush her. He did not look away when she started crying between mouthfuls. He only wiped the corner of her mouth with his thumb and waited until she could breathe again.
Her face heated under his attention.
"Stop looking at me like that," she whispered.
"Like what?"
"Like I’m going to break."
His eyes softened. "You already did."
Her throat tightened.
"And you’re still here," he said.
Iyisha lowered her eyes and took one more bite. After that, she pushed the container away with weak fingers. "No more."
Malcolm looked at what little she had eaten, then closed the lid. "Good enough."
He set it aside.
Then he dropped to one knee.
Iyisha straightened on the edge of the bed. "What’s wrong?"
Malcolm took her hand.
Her heart stopped for one hard second.
His face was serious. Tired. Bruised. Still bruised from everything he had done to reach her. But his grip around her hand was steady.
"I never thought I would do this after the world ended," he said. "I never thought there would be a reason."
Iyisha blinked.
No.
Her breath caught.
No fucking way.
"Malcolm..."
"Let me finish first."
She shut her mouth fast.
He let out a quiet breath, almost a laugh. "I thought about this for two days."
Her eyes filled again. "While I was unconscious?"
"Yes."
"That’s unfair."
"I know."
Her fingers trembled in his.
Malcolm looked down at their hands. "Everyone saw it before I did. How much I wanted you close. How fast I looked for you. How badly I hated anyone touching you."
Iyisha’s lips parted.
"You had me before I knew what to call it," he said. "Then I knew, and I still waited because every day was blood, running, fighting, and surviving."
He reached into his pocket.
Iyisha’s breathing stopped.
He pulled out a small box.
It was worn at the edges. Dark. Scratched. Something he had carried through roads, blood, water, and the lab.
"I’ve had this since The Route," he said.
Iyisha stared at it.
Malcolm opened the box.
Inside was a ring. A simple band set with small diamonds, dirty from travel but still bright when the cabin light touched it.
Iyisha covered her mouth.
Malcolm looked up at her. "Iyisha Clarke."
Her tears fell harder.
"Be my partner for life," he said. "Be my wife."
Her face crumpled.
"I love you," he said.
Iyisha moved before he could say anything else.
She slid off the bed on shaking legs and threw herself into him. Malcolm caught her against his chest as she wrapped both arms around his neck.
"Yes," she cried. "Yes. I will. I will."
He held her tight.
She kissed him hard, crying into his mouth, and Malcolm kissed her back with one hand at her waist and the other still holding the ring box. They broke apart only because she was shaking too much to stand.
Malcolm eased her back onto the bed and took her hand again.
He slid the ring onto her right hand.
Iyisha stared at it.
The ring sat there, real and impossible, while the yacht rocked under them and the sea carried them toward a place she had never seen.
Malcolm closed his hand around hers. "Now you’re stuck with me."
Iyisha laughed through fresh tears.
"I already was," she whispered.
He leaned in and pressed his forehead to hers.
For the first time since waking, her hand moved from the ring to her stomach without panic.
Grief was still there.
Cena was still gone.
But under Malcolm’s hand, under the ring, under the life still inside her, something small held on.
Outside the cabin, someone shouted from the deck.
Malcolm lifted his head.
Iyisha wiped her face and looked toward the small round window. At first, she saw only black water and the faint line of the horizon.
Then a light blinked far ahead.
Small.
Steady.
Alone in the dark.
Malcolm’s hand stayed over hers.
Iyisha looked down at the ring on her finger, then at his hand covering her stomach.
Behind them was Cena.
Ahead was whatever Arnulf’s island still held.
Iyisha held Malcolm’s hand tighter.
The yacht sailed toward the light.
THE END
