Page 16 of Fallen Empire (The Fallen Trilogy #2)

Jaxson

I let the weight of what Ben just said settle deep in my chest, heavier than I expected.

You’re not the only one with something to lose.

The words echoed louder the longer I sat with them. The tension I’d seen between him and Millie wasn’t just protective instinct or old familiarity. It was something else. Something he hadn’t told me.

“Ben,” I said, sitting up a little straighter. “If there’s something going on between you and Millie, I need—"

He didn’t even let me finish. “It’s not my story to tell.”

His voice wasn’t angry, it was firm. Final. Like a door being closed just loud enough to remind me not to knock again. I paused, then gave a quiet nod.

“Fair enough.”

He didn’t look at me. Just kept staring forward like facing me might give something away. I didn’t push. Whatever was going on between them, I’d get the truth eventually. But not like this.

A long silence stretched between us until footsteps echoed down the hall.

Nic stepped inside, her gaze immediately sweeping the room. She didn’t speak at first. Her eyes landed on Ben, then flicked to me, like she was calculating whether the coast was clear.

“If y’all are done, I need to get back to the office before I head in to check on the bar.”

Ben stood without question, running a hand down his face. “I’ll check on Millie.”

Nic stepped forward. “Jax, if you’re cool with it, I’m going to let Tamara cover my shifts for the next few days while I work on getting us ahead of Aleksei.”

Tamara filled in all the time. And I didn’t give a shit how Nic handled her shift leads. She ran the bars for a reason.

“Nic, you’ve never had to tell me—”

“He was here.”

Her words sliced through the air like a razor against skin—sharp, sudden, chilling. And it wasn’t until then that I realized she’d been buying herself time. Waiting for Ben to walk out of earshot.

“Who?”

“Koslov.” Her voice didn’t shake. “I saw him leaving. We made eye contact, but he didn’t recognize me. Not that he would. But it was him.”

“You’re sure?”

She arched a brow in answer, not bothering to dignify the question with words.

I’d never questioned her instincts before. I wasn’t about to start now.

Fuck.

This was getting worse, and fast.

“He knows she’s here, Jax,” she said, voice lower now, like saying it any louder would make it real. “He wasn’t here for anything else. He was here for her .”

Fear wasn’t something I was used to. If it were only me I had to worry about, I’d have found him by now and handled it. Hell, maybe even tortured him a little for sport.

But now… there was Savannah.

There was Millie.

And there wasn’t a single doubt in my mind that whatever he wanted, it wasn’t just about Savannah. She wasn’t the prize. I had a feeling she was just the bait.

“See what you can find out about him,” I said, standing straighter, forcing my voice to level out.

“He’s Russian, for fuck’s sake—there has to be a reason he’s here .

Figure out his role in all of this. Trace it.

Whatever he’s tied to, unravel it. We need to get this shit under wraps before someone else’s life is at stake. ”

“You got it, boss.”

She turned like she was going to leave, but hesitated.

Nic never got nervous.

But whatever she was about to say? It had her on edge.

“What?” I asked. “Spit it out.”

She met my gaze, steady but cautious.

“I want to place trackers in everyone,” she said. “Every single one of us. In case shit goes sideways again. I’m not risking losing anyone else.”

“Fine.” I didn’t second-guess it. We couldn’t afford another close call like Savannah’s. We got lucky last time. We had just enough eyes on the city to track them before they vanished.

Bruce was sloppy.

Koslov? He wouldn’t leave a single crumb.

“Get whatever you need,” I told her. “I’ll let everyone know.”

I walked past her, back toward the hospital room, where I now had to figure out how the hell to tell two of the most independent women I’d ever met that I was about to put a foreign object in their bodies.

Whether they liked it or not.

I stepped in just as the nurse was slipping out.

“Mr. Westbrook,” she said, offering a small smile. “Thank you for getting yourself together. I adjusted her medication slightly so she can start to wake up. If the pain becomes too much, we’ll ease it back. Just keep me posted.”

“Thank you,” I murmured, nodding as I brushed past her and stepped fully inside.

Millie was still asleep on the sofa, Ben close by her side. He looked exhausted. Like the weight of the day had finally started to wear him down. I moved to my usual spot beside Savannah, pulled the chair close, let the side rail down, and settled in.

For the first time in days, I just… rested.

Sometimes dreams made reality feel dull.

They say people with depression often slept more—not because they were lazy, but because it was the only way to escape. Escape to an unconscious realm where the world didn’t hurt.

Maybe in that place, they could sit across from the person they’d lost, without feeling the grief. Maybe they could remember how happiness used to taste, before darkness turned it bitter.

For me, it was the way her fingers moved through my hair.

A rhythm so familiar, it felt like breathing.

Her palm warm and steady, sweeping gently over my scalp.

Her nails grazing lightly, barely there, but burning me alive with the truth of it.

That she was mine. That I was hers.

If this was all I had left, I’d stay here forever. Let the dreams take me. Let them bury me in the echo of her touch.

I shifted just slightly, angling my head to lean into her palm, needing one more second. One more ghost of a moment.

“...Mmm.” Her voice.

Only it wasn’t a dream.

It was real.

But it was strained. Pained.

My eyes flew open. I shot up straight in the chair, heart slamming against my ribs like it had been waiting for permission to beat again.

Her arm dropped at the sudden movement and she let out a sharp hiss as it hit the mattress where I’d been resting.

“Shit. Savannah, I’m sorry.”

I reached out, then froze—remembering the doctor’s words. Even my touch could hurt her now.

“I’m here,” I said gently. “Tell me what you need. What can I do?”

A breath escaped her. She was trying to speak, but it came out thin. Strained. Almost inaudible.

I stood, leaning closer. “What is it, baby?”

“Wa...ter.”

It sounded like she was speaking through a throat lined with glass.

“Yes. Of course. I’ll get you some—” I looked up. Ben was already at the door.

I hated this. Hated that I couldn’t hold her. Couldn’t touch her. Couldn’t do the one thing I needed to do—comfort her.

All I could do was sit. Watch. Give her whatever she asked for and pray it was enough.

Ben returned less than a minute later with a large plastic cup and a small white styrofoam one with a bendable straw sticking out. I rolled the tray table closer while he poured water from the larger container into the smaller.

He handed it off wordlessly.

“Here you go,” I whispered, gently placing the straw at her lips. “Drink some water, sweetheart.”

She took a slow breath, like she was gathering every last drop of strength for such a simple task. And I hated that, too.

That something as simple as drinking from a straw looked like it might take her out. That the girl who’d once walked into my life like a storm was now fighting just to lift her lips.

Savannah took long and needy sips, like someone who hadn’t tasted water in days. Because she hadn’t. Her throat worked with every pull, eyes fluttering shut as if even the act of swallowing took everything she had left.

Within seconds, the cup was empty.

I turned to refill it, but Ben’s voice cut in.

“Wait.”

“For what?”

“We may need to ask the nurse how much she can have.”

It was logical. Practical. But I didn’t give a shit.

“If she’s thirsty, she’s drinking. Go ask if you want, but I’m giving her more.”

I poured water back into the styrofoam cup and returned to her side, pressing the straw to her lips again. She hesitated, just for a second, but then her mouth closed around it. And this time, she stopped just before the water was gone.

“Is that enough?” I asked, still holding the straw close to her lips.

“Thank you.” She said with a slight nod. Almost sounding like the Savannah Sinclair I was used to.

“I’ll leave it right here, and if you want more, you just ask. Or point at it. I don’t care, but whatever you need, we’ll get it for you.”

Her eyes were fully open now, alert, watching me. God, even barely alive she was the most beautiful being I’d ever seen. I smiled at her. Truly smiled.

“I missed you.” It was the truth. No point in keeping it inside. The right side of her lip curled up. Not a full smile, but I’d take it.

I slid back into the chair beside her and pulled it in close until our arms brushed.

“If I hold your hand, will it hurt?” I asked quietly.

She glanced down, and I followed her gaze. Her fingers were open, palm up. An invitation. One I didn’t hesitate to take.

I moved my hand under hers and laced my fingers loosely through hers, holding just tight enough to feel her warmth. Cautiously avoiding the tubes pumping fluid into her body.

“But does it hurt, Savannah?” I asked again, softer this time.

She shook her head.

I exhaled through my nose and ran my thumb along the edge of her hand, careful to avoid the spot where the IV needle was taped into the top of it.

Then I thought about the one thing that might bring a smile to her face.

I hesitated before reaching into my pocket. The thin chain was tangled around my fingers, the tiny S charm catching in the dim hospital light.

“I think this belongs to you.” My voice was quiet, almost unsure.

Her brow furrowed, eyes flicking to the necklace in my hand. For a second, she just stared. Like she wasn’t sure it was real. Then her lips parted on a sharp inhale.

“My mother’s,” she whispered, the words trembling. “She gave it to me on my wedding day. Something old…”

I leaned closer, careful of the lines and wires, and clasped it gently around her neck. The charm rested just above her collarbone, right where it had been the day I first saw her.

“I found it,” I told her, my throat tight. “When I…” I wasn’t ready to talk about it all with her just yet. “Before I found you.”

“Thank you.” The words were soft but heavy, like they carried more weight than she had strength to give.

I squeezed her hand again. “I’ll keep finding you, Savannah. Every damn time.”

Her eyelids were heavy again, fighting to stay open.

I gave her hand one last squeeze and leaned closer. “You don’t have to stay awake. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

She blinked slowly, lashes fluttering against her cheek.

But I wasn’t done.

“Damn it, Savannah…” My voice dropped, rougher now. “Don’t ever do anything like that again. You hear me?”

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.