Page 19 of Fallen Empire

My breath caught.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, steady as ever. “You’re not going back to that hospital until you’ve showered. Untilyou’ve eaten something. And you’re damned lucky that I’m not making you sleep. You’ll be no good to her if she wakes up and you’re passed out in another room because you’ve starved yourself for four fucking days straight.”

I opened my mouth. Closed it.

His words left no room for argument. Just like the day he told Reaper to take me somewhere safe. They were final.

And honestly, how was I supposed to respond to what he just said?

I clenched my jaw and turned away, fists balled tight at my sides.

He wasn’t wrong. But he didn’t get to be right, either.

Not after shutting me out. Not after making decisionsforme. Not after pretending I didn’t exist unless it was convenient. He isn’t the only one that had a right to be pissed.

I slammed my door shut and marched toward the building, heels clicking across the pavement like I could somehow outpace the ache in my chest.

But just before I reached the entrance, I spun around.

“You don’t get to act like you care now,” I snapped, voice shaking. “You don’t get to stand there like some damn soldier acting like this is about Savannah.”

His eyes narrowed, jaw tense. “Itisabout her.”

“No, it’s not,” I said, shoving the words out before I could stop them. “It’s about you needing control. You tell people where to go and how to feel and when to eat because that’s what makesyoufeel safe.”

His silence burned hotter than words.

I took a step forward despite needing to be inside. To be anywhere but standing in front of him. On the verge of breaking.

“I watched her fall, Ben.” My voice dropped, brittle and broken.

“I watched her hit the ground in a puddle of her own blood, and I’ve had to see that moment every time I close my eyes.” A single tear ran down my cheek, anger and hurt blurred so badly that I couldn’t tell which feeling was breaking the dam.

His face barely moved, but something flickered in his expression. A twitch in the jaw. A tremor in his stance.

Then, without warning, he stepped forward.

“You think this is easy for me?” he said, his voice low, steady but threaded with fire. “Watching you pretend you’re fine, like carrying the weight of everything alone somehow makes you stronger?”

I stiffened, blinking hard. Trying to keep the liquid in my eyes from pouring down.

“I know you, Mills,” he continued, his tone quieter now, but no less intense. “I’veseenyou—every part of you. And not just that night. You let me in once, and then you slammed the door and never gave me a chance to figure out what the hell happened.”

My breath hitched, but he wasn’t finished.

“I stayed,” he said simply. “You never saw it because you didn’t want to. But I didn’t go anywhere. Not then. Not now.”

The words landed heavier than I was ready for.

He took another step, his voice dropping just enough that I could feel it settle deep in my chest.

“You think this is about control? About telling you what to eat or when to sleep?” He shook his head. “No. This is about knowing you haven’t stopped for days and watching you unravel because you refuse to admit you’re not okay. I’ve watched you break in silence, Mills. And I’m done pretending I don’t see it.”

I swallowed hard, but it didn’t go down.

He stopped a breath away, gaze locked on mine. “Whether you like it or not, I’m staying. You don’t have to wantme here. You don’t even have to talk to me. But I’m not going anywhere. So figure out how to live with it.”

I hated how unbothered he looked. Like he wasn’t afraid of my anger. Like heknewit wasn’t anger at all. My eyes darted between his—searching for a reason to keep pushing, to keep the wall up, to keephimout.