Page 59 of Fallen Empire

Her eyes found mine. She gave a slow, tired nod—soft, but certain.

“Your life is worth more than mine. I don’t care what you think, or what you were trying to do. You don’t get to trade yourself for me. I won’t survive losing you.”

Something flickered in her gaze. A mix of understanding and apology.

And then she gave in, drifting back to sleep, still holding my hand.

Chapter 14

Savannah

The thing about fear is that it isn’t just a caution light flashing in your head.

True fear is full-bodied. It lives in your bones, nestled beneath your skin, and forces every nerve ending to stand at attention.

It’s the sound of a voice that’s trained you to flinch.

“Savannah, Savannah, Savannah… what am I going to do with you now?”

It’s the bile crawling up your throat, begging for release as his steps draw near, the scent of his cologne turning your stomach into a warzone.

“You just don’t know how to die, do you?”

It’s the sting that blooms where his hand made contact—numbing, not just from pain but from shame.

“Since you’re already on your deathbed… I’ll take the next best thing.”

And lastly, It’s the air escaping your mouth as your lungs remember to function when he turns to walk away—

Without taking a piece of your soul with him.

“If you crawl your way back to life… maybe you can save her before I bury her at Park Place. Don’t pass Go. Don’t collect two hundred dollars.”

My body jolted before my eyes even opened.

Sweat clung to my skin, soaking into the hospital sheets. My chest rose and fell in quick, uneven bursts, like I’d been running—sprinting—through hell just to wake up again.

I knew it wasn’t real. It was just a nightmare.

But it didn’t matter.

Because my body didn’t. The panic was still real. The bile still burned in my throat. And the last words he spoke—

They echoed like a curse. Not just words. A warning.

My eyes flew open, and for a moment, I didn’t feel the pain—only the fear. I turned my head slowly. Only it was Jaxson.

He was sitting beside me, elbow resting on the edge of my bed, fingers gently tangled with mine. His head lifted the second I moved, his eyes snapping to mine like he’d been holding his breath this whole time. The relief in his expression nearly broke me.

“You’re okay,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”

My throat was raw, my heart still racing. His fingers gripped mine just tight enough to ground me, but not enough to hurt.

He studied me closely, concern lacing every word. “Nightmare?”

I hesitated.

Everything inside me screamed to nod. To say yes and brush it off. But I didn’t move. Because it hadn’t felt like just a dream.