Page 47 of Birthright (Sinners of New Orleans #4)

FORTY-SIX

Olivia

B rightness stabs my eyes as I blink them open. The antiseptic smell hits me first, then the steady beep of machines. A hospital room materializes around me. Sterile white walls, bland curtains, and an IV dripping fluid into my arm.

Sam sits slumped in a chair beside my bed, his head resting on his folded arms near my hand. His dark hair is disheveled, clothes wrinkled like he's been here for days. When I shift slightly, his head snaps up, eyes bloodshot and rimmed with shadows.

"Olivia." My name comes out like a prayer from his lips. "Thank God."

I try to speak, but my throat feels like sandpaper. Sam quickly reaches for a cup of water, gently bringing the straw to my lips. The cool liquid soothes my parched throat.

"What happened?" I manage to rasp.

"You're okay." His voice cracks. "You had a cut on your shoulder, two broken ribs, and a concussion." Sam's face crumples, the facade of the untouchable mob boss completely gone. "I'm so sorry, Olivia. This is all my fault. I should have protected you better. I should have?—"

"It's okay," I whisper.

The events of the night come back to me in a twisted montage. Visions of Axel slicing Roman's throat, then everything going black before I woke up in that shack. When I remember Axel's hands on me, I feel nauseous, my stomach convulsing.

Sam's hand rubs my back. "It's okay, baby."

"I shot him," I whisper, recalling the weight of the gun in my hands and how I didn't even flinch as I pulled the trigger. Again. And again. His body jerked with each impact. The light leaving his eyes.

I killed someone.

The memory loops endlessly — the screw cutting into my palm as I worked it free, the desperate struggle, the moment I knew it was either him or me. The sound of the gunshots still rings in my ears, so loud they seemed to shake the room.

I can still feel the warm splash of his blood on my skin.

Sam squeezes my hand, pulling me back to the present. "You're safe now," he murmurs.

I nod, but inside, I'm still in that room, watching Axel fall to the floor, knowing I put him there.

I'm discharged from the hospital three days later. My body aches in places I didn't know could hurt, but the doctors say I'm healing well. No permanent damage. Just scars that will fade with time.

Sam hasn't left my side since I woke up. He's been attentive, gentle, making sure I have everything I need. But there's something distant in his eyes, like he's already gone.

He helps me into his SUV, handling me like I'm made of glass. The ride is quiet, tension filling the space between us. When we turn onto my street instead of heading toward his mansion, my heart sinks.

"Why are we here?" I ask as he parks in front of my apartment above the bar.

Sam turns off the engine but doesn't look at me. "This is where you live."

He comes around to help me out, supporting me as we climb the stairs. My legs feel like lead, and not just from the injuries. Each step feels like walking toward something I don't want to face.

Inside my apartment, Sam sets my bag down. Everything looks exactly as I left it, yet somehow foreign, like I'm seeing it through different eyes.

"Well," Sam says, his voice carefully neutral. "Our deal is complete."

My breath stutters as I turn to face him. "What?"

"I trust you now." His expression is unreadable, his eyes avoiding mine. "You're free."

The words hit me like a physical blow. "Free?"

"That was the arrangement. You're no longer a witness I need to worry about." He shrugs, the gesture too casual. "You can go back to your life."

"No." The word bursts from me. "No, you can't just leave me. Not after everything."

"I have to."

"Why?" My voice rises, cracking with emotion. "Because it’s my fault Roman’s dead? Because I killed someone? Because I'm damaged now?"

"No, no.” He scrubs a hand over his face. “Because I nearly got you killed!" His composure finally breaks along with me. "You almost died because of me, Olivia."

"That wasn't your fault!"

"It was." His jaw clenches, eyes pained. "And it will happen again if you stay with me."

"So you're just going to walk away?" I step toward him, anger and hurt coursing through me. "After everything we've been through…you’re just leaving?"

"I'm trying to protect you," he says, voice strained.

"I don't want your protection! I want you!"

His eyes squeeze shut, and he takes a step back, creating a valley of space between us. "Goodbye, Olivia," he says, and then, spinning on his heel, he leaves me. Shutting the apartment door behind him and walking out of my life like he didn't just drop a bomb on my world.

An ache forms in my chest, and my hand clutches at my heart. I can't breathe, my lungs refuse to work.

I collapse onto the floor, my legs giving out as the weight of Sam's rejection crushes me. The tears come in violent waves, my body shaking with sobs I can't control. I wrap my arms around myself, trying to hold the broken pieces together, but it's useless. I'm shattering.

The door opens behind me, and I don't even look up. I don't care who sees me like this.

"Olivia?" Kelly's voice is soft with concern. She kneels beside me, her hands gentle on my shoulders. "What happened? Where's Sam?"

"He's gone," I choke out between sobs. "He just...left me."

Kelly pulls me into her arms, and I bury my face against her shoulder. She smells like antiseptic and floral perfume — the scent of the nurse who's been caring for my grandfather.

"Shh, it's okay," she whispers, stroking my hair. "Let it out."

I cling to her, my fingers digging into her sweater as I cry harder. The pain feels physical, like someone has hollowed out my chest with a rusty spoon.

"He said I'm free now," I manage between gasping breaths. "Like I wanted to be free of him. Like everything between us meant nothing."

Kelly rocks me, making soothing sounds. "Men can be such fools sometimes."

The floorboards creak, and I hear shuffling footsteps entering the living room. I don't need to look up to know it's Grandpa.

"Is dinner ready yet?" His voice is cheerful, completely oblivious to the scene before him. "I'm starving. Is that pasta I smell?"

More tears fall.

This is what I wanted, isn't it? For Sam to let me go so I could come back to my life.

But then why does it feel so… bad?