Page 19 of Fallen Empire (The Fallen Trilogy #2)

“He pulled me off the floor by my hair. It was the first time he ever touched me like that. I didn’t go to work the next day because I couldn’t.

I wouldn’t be able to explain away the busted lip and bruises.

But when he came home that night and started again…

” She shrugged slightly. “I think I lost half my hair the day I tried to run. He caught me right as I grabbed the car door handle. My neck hurt for weeks. Eventually, I just… adjusted. I stopped fighting back. Tended to the wounds like it was my new career.”

She went quiet. I didn’t realize she was finished until the silence dragged.

“What made you leave?” I asked.

She looked up at me, and the weight in her gaze felt ancient.

“I knew he was after my inheritance. The truth is, I would’ve let him have it. All of it. But I also knew he’d kill me to cover his tracks. I wasn’t sure he killed my parents—until he kidnapped me. Technically, he said someone else did it… but his hands were still covered in their blood.”

“So?” I prompted softly.

“I wasn’t ready to die,” she said. “And I wanted to stop him before he hurt anyone else. I didn’t know everything then—not about my family, or where the money really came from.

But I knew it wasn’t from my parents’ pretty careers.

Not all of it, anyways. And Bruce… he knew more than I ever did and that scared me. ”

She paused, and then her voice dropped.

“My plan was to go into hiding, piece it all together, and turn him in.”

She let out a breath—bitter, broken, like she already knew what I was about to ask.

“But the truth?” she said, voice low. “Men like Bruce don’t fear justice. They buy it. Half the cops in his pocket would’ve helped him bury me and smile for the cameras after.”

She looked away again, jaw tight, eyes distant.

“And if I couldn’t trust my own parents… if the man I married could turn into a monster overnight… how the hell was I supposed to trust a stranger in a uniform?”

Her gaze came back to mine, hollow and sharp all at once.

“In his world, a pair of handcuffs isn’t the end. It’s just foreplay.”

“And New York?” I asked.

“My mom brought me here a few times when I was younger. I loved it. The big city, surrounded by thousands of people and nobody knowing who I was.” She paused. “I thought I’d be invisible here.”

I let out a breath, heavy with guilt.

“You probably would’ve been… until I put you in the spotlight. Suggesting you take the lead with Jaxson…” I trailed off, my stomach twisting.

I’d thrown Jaxson and Ben’s guilt back in their faces like a grenade—and now it was ricocheting straight back at me.

And fuck. The club.

She’d been adamant about not going. Her dilemma hadn’t been about having fun, it had been about being vulnerable .

Not being able to see a face in the crowd of darkness until it was too late.

And then that fucking prick had touched her.

She’d almost had a panic attack from that one, simple touch.

I knew exactly what it was when it happened. I’d seen the way the blood drained from her face. A reflection of having had them myself.

God, I was such an asshole.

The guilt was suffocating as I sank deeper into the chair, suddenly wanting to be anywhere but here.

I’d done that to her.

All of it.

He’d found her because of the choices I fucking made for her.

“Millie,” Savannah said softly, her voice fragile but certain, “there’s nothing you could’ve done to stop him from finding me. I would’ve spent years on the run and hiding. And now…”

Her eyes met mine.

“Now, I might be a little damaged, yeah. But I’m alive. And I’m free. So, if you want to dwell on something…let it be that you are the one person that set me free.”

I looked at her, not fully convinced. The weight of everything we’d all done, or failed to do, still pressing down on my shoulders.

“No,” I said. “Technically, you have Bruce to thank for being a crap shooter.”

She laughed—and this time, she didn’t hide the pain behind it.

The door creaked open again, and Nurse Ruth reappeared with a tray in her hands and a knowing look on her face.

“I brought a few things,” she said, setting it down on the tray table and wheeling it closer. “Jell-O, applesauce, a little water, and a few ice chips in case her throat gives her trouble again.”

Her tone was neutral, but her eyes lingered on me just long enough to say: Don’t test me again.

She turned to Savannah. “Pain level now?”

Savannah hesitated, then glanced at me before answering. “Nine.”

“Honest. Good.” Ruth nodded, clearly pleased with that. “You need to take it easy, Ms. Sinclair. The next few days will be about rest and recovery, not trying to prove how strong you are. Got it?”

Savannah gave a soft, hoarse “Got it,” and I moved to help, unscrewing the cap on the water and offering it to her first. She took a few sips, slow and careful, before nodding for me to grab the applesauce next.

I fed her in small bites, scooping gently while Ruth moved around the bed, checking her vitals and jotting them down on the board next to the door.

The steady beeps of the monitor and the scratch of her pen were the only sounds for a while.

Savannah finished off the applesauce and motioned for the Jell-O.

“Vitals are stable,” Ruth said after a moment, inserting a syringe of medication into the IV line and gently flushing it. “This should help with the pain. You’ll probably start to feel sleepy soon.”

Savannah didn’t answer right away—she was busy polishing off the last bite of orange Jell-O, her face lit up like she’d just won the lottery. I handed her one last sip of water before wiping a bit of Jell-O from her chin with a napkin, earning a dramatic eye roll.

“Don’t give me that look,” I said, grinning. “You have dignity and Jell-O all in the same bite. That’s talent.”

Her eyelids drooped as she chuckled softly. “You’re annoying.”

“And you’re tired.”

She didn’t argue. Her body was already sagging deeper into the bed, the meds pulling her under.

“Get some rest,” I whispered, brushing a piece of hair away from her face. “I’ll be right here.”

Her breathing slowed, soft and even.

For now, she was safe. And that was all I could ask for.