Page 106 of Always A Villain

“Rory.” His deep voice breaks through the fog. “Baby, I’m right here.” He brushes his fingers through my hair in slow, gentle strokes.

The world comes into sharper focus—the sterile, white walls, the relentless beeping of machines. A hospital.

I turn my head, and there he is, his dark eyes locked onto mine. His usual undercut has grown out, thick strands falling over his forehead, and the sight jolts me. There’s a roughness to him, like he hasn’t seen a razor or a bed in days. Stitches mar his forehead, a deep bruise spread across his temple. The way he’s slumped forward, hands around mine, says it all—he’s exhausted.

“Why are you so far away?” I whisper. He tries to smile, but it’s more of a ghost than the real thing. Leaning forward, he brushes his lips against mine, and I pull him closer, weakly, not caring about the pain. He carefully climbs in beside me, shifting his weight as I scoot over, biting back the discomfort.

I look down at the bandages peeking from the hospital gown. “How bad is it?”

“It was close.” His strong arms wrap around me, holding me like I might break. He’s a wall of warmth, his lips pressed against my hair.

“Axe…” I open my mouth to speak, but the words tangle in my throat, refusing to come.

“Shh…I’m here.” His kiss trails over my tears, gentle as his fingers tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “I thought I was going to lose you,” he admits, his voice thick with emotion I’m not used to witnessing from him. “I can’t ever feel that way again, Rory. I won’t.”

“I love you,” I whisper, and he leans in, lips brushing mine, soft but fierce, like he’s trying to seal those words into my skin.

“I love you too, Rory. More than you could ever know.”

His voice. His touch. Everything I thought I’d never have.

“How long was I out?” I ask, fighting the need to break down again.

“Four days.”

The memory hits me in flashes. “It was Creed,” I whisper, my jaw clenching as images flood back—him taking me, his twisted grin.

“He’s dead. That bastard isn’t taking anything from us ever again.”

“And DeLuca?”

“Gone. All of them.” His arms tighten around me. “We hunted every last one.”

“And the other Sovereigns?”

“Safe. Spencer’s here. He just stepped out for a moment.”

I glance down, noticing his bandages, the bruising creeping up his neck. “What about you?”

“I’m fine.” But I catch the wince that tightens his jaw as he shifts, and I reach for his shirt, pulling it up. Bruises and stitches cover his torso, dark against his skin. My breath catches.

“Axe…why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because you’re all that matters,” he says roughly. “It’s nothing.”

“Nothing?” My finger grazes the stitched line across his ribs, his muscles flinching. “This isn’t nothing. You were shot.” And judging by the number of stitches, more than one time.

“It’ll take more than a few bullets to stop me,” he says, flashing a cocky grin. “I’m the Reaper, remember?”

I lift my eyebrow. “And immortal?”

“Something like that.” He pulls me against him. “All I could think about was getting to you. Nothing else mattered.”

I melt against him, his warmth soaking into me. He runs his fingers down my spine, and I close my eyes, savoring the feel of him. But more memories surface, and I shudder as the weight of it all hits me again.

I can’t stop the tears this time, and his grip tightens. “Rory?”

“Antonio told me everything…about my mom. How she died.”