Page 89 of Fallen Empire

“Savannah? What is it?” Jaxson was on his feet in an instant, reaching for me.

My hand flew to my mouth. “The children,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “Nia and Kai… the others—what happened to—”

“They’re safe.” He crouched beside me, his voice firm but soft. “Baby, they’re safe.”

I stared at him, breath caught in my lungs.

“I told you… Ben had people on site before the war was even over. He had eyes everywhere. I owe him everything.” His hand covered mine, grounding me.

“I’ll forever be in both of your debts,” he said quietly. “You—for choosing your life over mine. And him—for saving yours.”

“I’d choose your life over mine any day, Jaxson. I’m a nobody.”

“Savannah.” His voice broke—low, fierce, and full of something that cracked me wide open. “Don’t you ever fucking say that. You’re my everything.”

Then he kissed me. Firm enough to make sure I felt it—every word he couldn’t say. But gentle enough to remind me he knew I was still healing.

As if I were something fragile. Precious.

Jaxson’s hand moved to mine, his thumb tracing slow circles over my wrist like he was trying to calm something he couldn’t see. Maybe he was.

“I hate that you feel that way,” he said softly. “That someone ever made you feel like you’re not good enough. Worthy enough of being loved.”

I didn’t answer. Because if I spoke, I might cry. And I was so goddamn tired of crying. That version of me died the day that bullet ruptured through my chest. I’d never go back to her. Broken, afraid. I’d found my strength that day.

I let the silence settle between us. Let the weight of everything we weren’t saying linger in the sterile air of the hospital room.

A soft knock sounded at the door, and a young nurse peeked her head in. “Hey, sorry to interrupt. Got a delivery for Westbrook?”

Jaxson stood, taking the bag with a quiet thank-you. The scent of warm rice and ginger floated through the room, and for the first time in days, my stomach growled without shame.

“Let’s see what you can keep down,” he said, pulling the tray table closer and setting the bag down. He opened the container of broth and slid a spoon toward me.

“I don’t know if I’m ready,” I said.

“You don’t have to be. Just try.”

I did. Just one spoonful at first. Then another. I closed my eyes and savored the flavor, a soft moan escaping my lips. When I opened them, Jaxson’s gaze was locked on mine.

Primal.

And if I ever doubted that the man standing in front of me wouldn’t burn the world down for me…

That look said it all.

“When you’re healed,” he murmured, voice low and reverent, “I’m going to take back everything he stole from me. Starting with your heart, and ending with worshiping your body until you see the same woman that I do.”

My breath hitched. I wanted to believe him. God, I wanted to. But there were still pieces of me buried in that dirt. Scattered across the ground—among the bodies of people who 'd been sacrificed for a man who was never worth following. Bruce didn’t deserve their loyalty. He didn’t deserve the bloodshed. And yet, they bled for him. Just like I did. Parts of me were still trapped there. And I wasn’t sure they’d ever be found.

Still… maybe he could help me search.

Not tonight. Not now. I could feel the exhaustion tugging at the edges of my mind, the ache in my bones spreading like gravity.

But maybe one day.

I let my eyes drift shut, hanging on to his words like I could bring a dream to life—

Like if I held them tightly enough, replayed them over and over again in my mind…