Page 32

Aries

The sound of water dripping from the ceiling of The Bastille echoes in the barely lit room.

Boone has his back to Zoro and me as he makes dramatic movements of sharpening his machete.

The unmasked man sits tied to a chair suspended a few feet off the ground by thick metal chains, shaking and unable to take his eyes off Boone.

I try to focus on the lone survivor of the attack on Braveheart, but my mind keeps flashing with images of Taylor covered in blood.

Scrubbing my hands down my pants, I wince at the fresh scrapes covering both hands.

After Indy dragged me to the sink, I scrubbed them raw. Not being able to stand the sight of the love of my entire existence’s blood on my hands, soaking into every line and callus.

My legs wobble and I take a step backward, trusting the concrete wall to hold the weight of my grief and sorrow.

Memories of the last few hours replay in my head against my will.

So much blood.

The life draining from her piercing green eyes.

The last words on her lips. “I love you.”

Her last breath.

“CPR IN PROGRESS!”

Tears from members that love her.

Reagan sobbing while performing CPR on her best friend.

Boone holding Tucker as if he was going to crumble into a million pieces.

My heart shattering.

Closing my eyes and seeing the two people I love most in this world and wishing the world would swallow me whole so I could see them again.

A long beep turning into a short, rapid one.

“WE GOT HER BACK!”

“That’s it, Tay. Open your eyes.”

“Aries! She’s breathing! Come here.”

Beeeppppp.

“FUCK. We lost her again. Dammit Taylor, FIGHT!”

Beep. Beep.

“She’s back. We need blood and she needs surgery now before we lose her again.”

“She’s okay. She just needs to rest for a while.”

“You saved her, Ari. She’s alive because of you.”

“Go take a walk. Hit someone. I’ll call you when she’s awake.”

A soft kiss against her pale skin.

“I love you beyond the sun, moon, stars, and far beyond. You are my everything. Please come back to me, Butterfly.”

Movement snaps me out of the worst movie replaying in my head.

Boone steps up to the man, slashing his machete against his shins, barely grazing him so he doesn’t knick a major blood vessel, but enough to make him buck in his seat and scream in pain.

“Shut up. Now start talking before I cut off one of your toes and shove it up your ass.”

The man pales and I can’t help but laugh.

I shouldn’t be laughing, but this man has no idea what’s coming to him. Boone is one sadistic mother fucker. I’ve seen him do things I can never erase from my mind. Some I can’t even stomach thinking about. But at this moment, I find myself waiting for him to do his worst.

Whoever this man is, whoever hired him, killed the other half of my soul. Lucky for me, she is a fighter and would never let an army of hired assassins take her down.

“I’m not telling you shit!”

Boone chuckles. “Wrong answer.” Slash, this time on his feet. “Watch out. Next time I might slip and accidentally cut off a foot. Now that would hurt like a bitch.”

Checking my phone for the hundredth time since I’ve come down here, I see an empty screen, the image of Taylor in New York, staring back at me.

“Fine! I’ll tell you!!” the man screams, but Boone doesn’t hold back. This time, delivering another slash to his other foot.

“Fuck!!! Stop. A–A man in a white mask with a creepy ass red smile came to the house I was staying at with my–uh–friend and hired us to kill the girl with black hair and butterfly tattoos. He offered to pay us each a fuck-ton of money if we did what he said asked no questions. I-I’m sorry. I know it was wrong, but I was dying on the streets. That money could have saved my life!!”

All the blood drains from my face and all the attention in the room falls on me.

He’s making good on his promise. I escaped, and he’s going after her. Just like he said he was going to.

Stepping forward, I take my gun from the holster at my back. The man’s light blue eyes go wide, his skin dangerously pale. “Do you know who the man behind the mask is?”

He shakes his head. “N-No. He had a voice changer and everything! I swear that's all I know. I-I’m sorry. Please don’t kill me.”

Boone and Indy flank my side as I raise my gun, pointing it directly at the man’s head.

Bucking against the chains, a drop of blood lands on my shoes.

A smile spreads across my face, and I look the man dead in his eyes. “You got blood on my new shoes. You see, this isn’t the pair I started today with. I had to change because you and your crew went after my girl. And that is a big no-no.”

“I know. I’m sorry. Let me go and I promise you’ll never see me again!”

“A little too late for sorry.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I squeeze the trigger and watch the bullet sail toward him in slow motion, landing directly between his eyes.

Blood sprays on my face and the man slumps forward.

Spinning on my heel, I don’t bother sticking around to help clean up. Heading straight for the stairs, the need to see Taylor overwhelming me.

The consistent low beeping echoes throughout my low lit bedroom.

As I step foot in the doorway, Reagan and Tucker’s heads pop up. Their eyes are bloodshot, and a somber feeling is palpable in the room.

“Hey Ari. Not to be an asshole, but if you’re here to watch your girl, maybe wash the blood off first?” Reagan says, drawing my attention downward.

I let out a sigh of annoyance and head into the bathroom attached to my bedroom, and quickly change. Once again, scrubbing my hands and face until they ache.

Glancing up, I see a man I know all too well but wish I didn’t in the reflection. One that is full of sorrow and heartbreak.

It's all my fault.

The love of my life almost died because some psycho in a mask has some unknown vendetta against me. Being with me almost killed her.

I should let her go. I should send her somewhere safe and far away from me.

But I can’t because I’m a selfish son of a bitch.

I need Taylor like I need air in my lungs. She is my everything and the thought of not having her next to me feels like a knife to the heart.

Pulling my hair into a bun, I make sure all the blood is off my face and out of my hair.

As I step back in my room, Reagan and Tucker both press a kiss to Taylor’s cheek. They stop to give me a hug on the way out before quietly shutting the door.

A heavy silence hangs in the air as I stand at the end of the bed, staring at Taylor. Strands of her long dark hair falling in her face, as she lies practically comatose in the center of the mattress.

For a moment, I become mesmerized by the steady rise and fall of her chest.

She’s alive.

The need to touch her overwhelms me and I move to sit in the chair that Reagan just vacated, sitting snugly against the king size bed.

Grasping her cool, pale hand in mine, I bring it to my lips. A wave of emotion crashes over me and my shoulders shudder as cries overtake my entire body.

Kissing her hand with my tear covered lips, I mutter, “I’m so sorry, Butterfly. It’s all my fault. I will never forgive myself, but I promise I will spend the rest of my existence making it up to you.”

My head drops and I bring her hand with me, unable to stop touching her for even a second.

“I’m so sorry. I love you.”

I repeat the same six words over and over, my throat feeling like I swallowed sand paper as time passes by in a blur.

I cry for almost losing Taylor. I cry for the countless Braveheart members that almost died because of me. I cry for the screaming fact that if Taylor was gone, I truly would have no one left in this world to love.

For someone that lives in a house full of people, I never felt more lonely. That is until Taylor opened her heart and showed me what it was like to have someone by my side.

“I love you too, Ace.”

My head pops up and I stare wide eyed at a smiling Taylor.

Rubbing my eyes with one hand, the other still gently gripping hers, I blink a few times.

I’m dreaming. I must be. This must be some delusion of my messed up mind playing a nasty trick on me.

A small laugh followed by a wince escapes her. “You’re not dreaming. I’m here.”

A relieved chuckle escapes me, and I slump forward onto the mattress.

She’s alive.

Taylor’s hand brushes through my hair, dislodging it from the bun, and I sit up.

“Hi,” Taylor says, an adorable but weak grin on her exquisite face.

“Hi.”

Taylor tries to adjust herself higher on the bed, but between her arm wrapped in white gauze and the large sling keeping her shoulder in place, she struggles.

I hesitate for a moment, knowing she would rip me a new one if I tried to help her, but when she lets out a painful wince, I’m on my feet.

Her brows furrow as I climb onto the bed, my hands moving to her waist to help her sit up. “Don’t look at me like that, Hellhound. Whether you like it or not, you’re going to need my help. I will not let you hurt yourself more by being stubborn.”

Tilting her head up to the ceiling, her eyes roll. “Well, hello to you, too. A girl gets shot in the shoulder and you’d think her prez would give her anything she wants, but I guess not.” Her tone is laced with humor and a hint of annoyance.

Her words hit like a punch to the gut, but I know she doesn’t mean anything malicious by them. This is Taylor. She may be sassy as hell and drive me mad, but she has the biggest, caring heart and wouldn’t intentionally be passive aggressive, even if she has every right to be in this moment.

Facing her, I sit down on the bed, grasping her free hand in mine. When her gaze returns to mine, I lower my voice. “I’m sorry, Hellhound. I—”

Taylor lets out a sigh. “Stop apologizing. It’s—”

“It is my fault. You—”

Taylor pulls my hand to rest atop her heart. “It is not your fault. I know you want to protect me and you feel like you failed, but trust me when I say this, you did far from that. I am alive because of you. You are the reason that I am sitting here, staring into my favorite dark eyes. You are the reason my heart is beating. I am alive and get a second chance at a life I get to spend with the love of my life because of you.”

Her eyes fill with tears and I lean forward, my hand moving to grip the side of her head and hold it against mine.

I have to tell her. She has to know.

Our shoulders both shake as the gravity of today comes crashing down onto both of us.

“I want to believe you. I wish I could, but the facts state otherwise, Hellhound.”

Taylor pulls away, a confused look casting over her face.

Taking a deep breath, I say the words that I know could change everything. “Do you remember when I told you my captor threatened to take you?”

“Yes?”

“Zoro grabbed one of the lone survivors from the attack and threw him in The Bastille.” I pause and Taylor’s brows furrow as if she is trying to connect the dots before I tell her. “Before sending him to hell where he belongs, he told us the entire attack was orchestrated by a man in a mask. Their sole objective being to take the girl with black hair and butterfly tattoos down.”

Taylor drops my hand, shock written all over her face.

My eyes cast downward. Fuck. This is it. She now knows it is no longer safe to be with me and she’s going to leave me in the dust. Which she has every right to do.

“Aries Clark. Look at me.” Taylor’s voice is stern and when my eyes meet hers, a look of disgust—maybe disappointment is clear on her face.

“Listen to me when I say this, so hopefully the words will sink through that thick skull of yours. It was not your fault. I knew what I was getting into the second I ran down into that basement and pulled you from death’s front door. I knew what I was getting into when you told me I was on your captor’s short list. I knew what I was getting into when I lent you my heart, hoping that you would never return it.”

I try to interrupt her but she stops me by giving me a don’t you dare look. Not wanting to upset her, I keep my mouth shut and let her finish.

“The definition of love is different for everyone. But to me, it is simple. When you love someone, you vow to protect that person with every part of your being and trust that they will do the same for you. To me, love isn’t some big, cheesy romantic gesture. It's proving that you can be there for the other person when they need you the most. And that’s exactly what I’ve been doing since the day you came home. I may have turned a blind eye to the fact it was love in those early moments, but looking back, I know for certain that love was the underlying thread tethering me to you.

“Love and life are unpredictable. It can change in an instant, but I know one thing is for certain.” She pauses, as if she is unsure that I’m listening. Little does she know I’m waiting with bated breath to hear what else will come out of her beautiful mouth.

With a simple brush of my thumb, she smiles, knowing she has my full attention, and continues. “If my fate changed tomorrow and took me away from this world, I know I would find you in the next lifetime. So no. It is not your fault. It is simply a tiny blip in what I can only hope is a long life with you at my side.”

I’m rendered speechless.

How this girl can go from almost dying to somehow making me feel like I’m the happiest man in the world, I have no clue.

I should feel surprised by her words, but I don’t.

I was drawn to Taylor for a reason. Her ability to think level headed while also unknowingly wearing her heart on her sleeve is rare. I knew if I ever allowed myself to give my heart to a woman, it would be someone that could carry their own, while being vulnerable enough to let me see what lay beyond the mask.

Because I can’t help myself, I press my lips to hers. As our heads rest against each other, a contented sigh releases from the both of us.

Moments fly by and I have no idea how long we stay locked in each other's silent reprieve, but when a yawn escapes from Taylor, I lean back.

Searching her eyes, I can see exhaustion written all over her face.

“Alright. Time for bed.”

Taylor shakes her head. “No, I just slept for hours and the sun is rising. I need to stay awake so I’m not up all night.”

Ignoring her, I hop off the bed, head over to my dresser, and grab a pair of grey sweats. Kicking off my jeans, I watch as Taylor tracks my every movement.

As I toss my shirt in the corner, I slowly make my way back to the bed. “Like what you see, Hellhound?”

Her cheeks heat, but she makes no move to hide. “You know I do.”

Chuckling, I pull the covers back and slide into bed. Immediately, Taylor moves until her non-injured arm is pressed against mine.

Slowly, I shift us so we are lying down, Taylor tucked into my side.

Brushing my nose against the top of her head, I watch as her eyes start to flutter closed.

“I love you, Hellhound. Thank you for fighting.”

With her eyes closed and her voice barely above a whisper, she says, “I love you, Ace. Thank you for giving me a reason to fight.”

As soon as the words leave her mouth, a feeling of relief settles over me and I drift off to sleep.