Page 10 of Fallen Empire (The Fallen Trilogy #2)

Jaxson

“I’m sure Nurse Sheila already shared the good news with you,” the doctor said as he stepped into the room, a tired but hopeful smile on his face.

I nodded. “Yes, she did.”

“Excellent.” He glanced toward the monitors, checking Savannah’s oxygen levels before looking back at me.

“Mr. Westbrook, I want to be honest with you. The next twenty-four hours are critical. But what we’re seeing right now…

it’s promising. Her oxygen levels are climbing steadily with every breath she takes on her own, and her vitals are holding strong. ”

He paused, as if searching for the right words.

“She’s stable, and for someone who came in under the conditions she did, that’s nothing short of remarkable. This woman is a fighter. Extraordinary, really. But I don’t need to tell you that.”

I swallowed hard, jaw tight as I stared at the slight rise and fall of her chest.

The doctor continued. “She still has a long recovery ahead. The trauma her body endured won’t disappear overnight.

Rest will be essential, and she’ll need support, not just medically, but emotionally.

If her current progress continues, we’ll likely begin discussing discharge in the coming days. That means she can’t be alone.”

He looked at me directly now, no nonsense in his tone.

“She’ll need someone with her twenty-four-seven. To monitor her breathing, help with mobility, meals, stress management—everything. We can’t risk her overexerting herself or relapsing.”

He gave me a moment to absorb that.

“Is that something you’re prepared for, Mr. Westbrook? To care for her once she leaves our care?”

“Absolutely.”

There was no way I was letting her out of my sight. Not after the hell she had been through. Not just this week. Not just the past few months. But every moment I still didn’t know about… the ones she’d survived at the hands of her so-called husband.

Her dead husband.

The doctor gave a small nod, as if he already knew my answer. “Alright,” the doctor said, offering a reassuring nod. “We’re going to begin the extubation process shortly. It should only take about fifteen to twenty minutes. Once we’re done, I’ll come back and update you.”

He glanced at Nurse Sheila, then looked back to me.

“If you’ll excuse us,” he said gently, “we’re going to prep the room and get started.”

“Yeah. Of course.” I said as I looked down at Savannah’s face. She was still, but she was strong. The doctor gave me a quick, encouraging smile before gesturing for the team to follow him.

I stepped back, letting them pass, every inch of me resisting the space growing between us.

As the door clicked shut behind them, I could still feel her in the room.

Like even unconscious, she refused to let go.

“She’s probably the strongest person I’ve ever met,” Nic said softly, pushing herself off the wall.

“There’s no probably to it,” I replied, my eyes never leaving the door they’d just wheeled her through. “It’s the truth.”

“Fine,” she relented, sighing as she dropped onto the sofa across from me. Not in defeat, but in decision. Giving in to something deeper.

“Fine what?” I asked, brow raised.

“Fine. We’ll fight,” she said, with a lift of her chin. “That woman they just wheeled out of here on a deathbed isn’t fighting for herself. She’s fighting for all of us. I knew the moment I met her that she was something fierce.”

I didn’t know how to respond. Because she was right. But it didn’t change what I felt brewing beneath it all.

The war we were walking into wasn’t one we’d all come out of. I knew that. And it was a chance I was willing to take.

“Nic,” I said slowly, dragging a hand through my hair, “this isn’t like the other missions—the ones where we were stealth. Quiet in, quiet out. Grab the package, neutralize the threat, disappear before anyone even blinked.”

She cocked her head, unimpressed.

“We’re the targets now. We’re not ghosts anymore. We’re bait.”

“Maybe,” she said with a shrug, like the stakes didn’t rattle her at all. “Or maybe... we just need to make someone else the target.”

I narrowed my eyes. “How? There’s already been a threat.”

“No,” she said, sitting forward. “There wasn’t. That threat? The one you thought was left because of everything you’ve done? It wasn’t. I checked your cameras. The security logs. He came long before the shit you brewed.”

I stilled. “He who?”

Nic’s voice hardened. “Aleksei Koslov.”

My chest tightened.

“You’re telling me he came back —after Bruce?”

“No,” she corrected. “ While Bruce was still out there. The night he bailed. Koslov showed up at your building. Scanned the perimeter. Never entered. Just watched.”

I stood, tension spiking in my spine. “So wait… no one knows it was me? That killed Bruce? No one knows I shut everything down?”

Nic raised an eyebrow. “Not yet.”

I turned fully toward her, my voice sharp. “Then why the fuck didn’t you start with that when you walked in here?”

“Because,” she said coolly, “I’m still pissed at what I uncovered in only a few hours —what will take them weeks to realize. And that little delay? That gives us time.”

“Time for what?”

She leaned back, fingers lacing behind her head. “To breathe. To plan. To hit first, before they know which direction to look.”

The door opened, cutting off the conversation far earlier than it needed to end.

Millie stepped through, Ben trailing closely behind.

“Where is she?” Millie asked, her voice too steady, her eyes already wide with panic.

I put one hand up, shaking my head gently. “They just took her back.”

Her shoulders slumped, but her face didn’t relax. I could see it all over her. Her mind racing through worst-case scenarios, conjuring every kind of hell.

“She’s okay,” I added quickly. “They’re extubating. It shouldn’t take long.”

Ben’s gaze flicked between Nic and me. Once. Twice. And there it was—his tell. The subtle twitch in his jaw. The sharp narrowing of his eyes.

He knew.

He didn’t know what, but he damn sure knew something.

I’d known him long enough to recognize when his instincts were firing. And right now, they were screaming. Setting off alarms inside his head.

But we couldn’t say a word. Not with Millie standing there like a thread away from breaking. Not with Savannah still in the back room fighting to breathe.

Because telling Ben would mean telling her .

And Millicent on a warpath? That wasn’t something we could afford right now.

Ben stepped further inside, but his focus never left Nic.

Not Millie. Not me. Nic.

He studied her like he could read secrets off her skin. “Everything alright?” he asked, voice low, too calm.

Nic didn’t blink. Didn’t hesitate. She just crossed one leg over the other like she wasn’t sitting on top of a ticking bomb.

“Peachy,” she said.

Ben’s eyes shifted to mine. Waiting. Testing.

I didn’t flinch either.

Didn’t answer.

Because right now, silence was safer than the truth.

The silence stretched, thick and taut.

Then—

“I swear to God, if someone doesn’t hand me that garlic bread in the next five seconds, I’m going to lose it.”

Millie’s voice cut through the tension like a blade through silk. Sharp, honest, unfiltered.

Ben blinked, turning to her. She was already walking toward him, one hand outstretched like a woman possessed.

“I’ve been smelling that food the whole damn ride,” she muttered, grabbing the bag from his hands without waiting for permission. “Hand it over.”

He passed it to her wordlessly. She walked to where Nic sat and plopped down beside her on the sofa. Ben rolled the tray table over so she could set her food down.

Once it was out of the bag, she ripped into the container, shoving a piece of garlic bread into her mouth with a dramatic groan.

Ben looked like he didn’t know whether to be amused or concerned as he took a step back, giving her space to eat. Nic cracked the barest smile. And me?

I just breathed. Because for one small second, she wasn’t spiraling.

She wasn’t breaking. She was just hangry.

And somehow, seeing her finally put food into her body gave me hope.

Hope that maybe, just maybe, everything might be okay.

Nic stood, brushing imaginary lint from her jeans as she grabbed her keys off the side table. “I’m gonna grab some food. Anyone want anything?”

I glanced at Millie, who had already inhaled half the pasta in front of her like it was her first meal in a week. It almost was. Her cheeks were full, her eyes still locked on the garlic bread like it had personally rescued her from a burning building.

My stomach gave a low, audible growl.

“Yeah,” I muttered. “Grab me something. Surprise me.”

Because for the first time in days, I felt like I could eat, too.

Nic turned her eyes to Ben. “You?”

Ben didn’t look up right away. When he did, his stare was sharp—aimed directly at her like a silent shot fired across the room.

“No, Nic,” he said flatly. “I’m good.” There was a warning in his voice. Subtle, but unmistakable.

Millie didn’t notice. Too busy chasing the last bit of Alfredo sauce around the container like it owed her money.

But I noticed. And Nic definitely did.

She paused a beat too long. Then she shrugged, unfazed. “Suit yourself.”

And with that, she was gone.

I shifted my weight, trying to ignore the thick, quiet tension she left behind. But it was too loud. The kind that pressed in on you. Made your skin itch. And Millie wasn’t helping.

She was tearing through garlic bread like it was her last meal. And maybe, in some way, it was. The last normal bite before the world split open again.

I glanced her way. “When she’s stable enough to be discharged… she’ll come home with me.”

Millie didn’t look up right away. Just set her food down slowly, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand… then turned.

“Excuse me?”

“I already talked to the doctor. He said she’ll need help—someone with her around the clock. I said I’d do it.”

Her jaw locked. “You said that? Without even talking to me?”

“I’m not letting her be alone.”

“And you think I’d let her be?” she snapped. “You think I wouldn’t drop everything to take care of her?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“No, but it’s sure as hell what you implied.”

I let out a breath, trying to level my voice. “I’m trying to make this easier, Millie.”

“For who?” she shot back, rising to her feet. “For her, or for you?”

I stood too, meeting her head-on. “I’ve been here every damn night—”

“So have I!” she shouted, her voice cracking.

Ben looked up from across the room, eyes sharp, but I didn’t look away.

“You don’t get to make decisions for her, Jaxson. She’s not yours.”

My fists clenched. “She’s not yours either.”

That did it.

Her eyes flared, and she stepped in, fire in every word. “You think because she kissed you, or cried in your arms, that makes you her savior? That you’re entitled to her now?”

I didn’t flinch. “No. I think because she trusted me to protect her, that matters. I’m not here playing backup, Millie. I’m in this. Whether you like it or not.”

She let out a cold, bitter laugh. “Protect her? Like you did the night she disappeared? When the man who should’ve never found her walked in and took her—from a room you were standing just outside of? Both of you.”

“That’s not fair and you know it!” I snapped, louder than I intended.

The room fell silent. Even Ben didn’t move. Because we both knew the truth—he blamed himself just as much as I did. For Alex getting his hands on her. And for every damned thing that’s happened since.

Millie’s hands were shaking.

And I hated this. Hated the way she looked at me now—like I was part of the reason Savannah had to crawl her way back to life.

She took a shaky step back, her voice low but pointed. “You have no idea what it cost her to survive. What it took to crawl out of that hell. And if you think you get to swoop in now and play house, like you get to fix it all, you’re wrong.”

“I’m not trying to fix it,” I said, softer now. “I just want to be there.”

She turned, scoffing. “Yeah, well, wanting doesn’t mean you deserve it.”

She snatched a piece of bread off the tray table and walked towards the door, spine stiff, her silence louder than any words.

Just like that, we were done.

For now.