Page 22 of Fallen Empire (The Fallen Trilogy #2)

Millie

I tried not to react to Savannah’s words. I tried to stay calm, stoic, so she could carry the strength to say them. But inside? I was unraveling.

I felt like a fraud.

My childhood trauma—my father’s drinking, my mother walking out—felt like a scratched record compared to the shattered symphony Savannah had lived through.

She’d lost everyone she ever loved in one single breath. Her father. Her mother. The man who once vowed to love and protect her. And yet somehow, she endured.

No spotlight. No parade. Just quiet, stubborn survival.

And here I was, drowning in a glass of cabernet and a perfectly manicured brand.

If it had been me? I would've tapped out long before now.

There comes a point, doesn’t there? A line where pain outweighs presence. Where the idea of peace becomes more promising than another hour in this living hell. Maybe that’s why people end their lives.

Not because they’re weak.

But because hope becomes the bigger lie.

Still, she kept going. Not because it was easy. But because somewhere in that darkness, she must’ve believed there was something still worth finding.

Some people fight to love others.

She learned to fight to love herself. At any cost.

And maybe that’s the hardest kind of love to hold on to—the belief that you are worth saving. That you deserve to be here. That broken doesn’t mean beyond repair.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

That thought ran through my head like a freight train, barreling toward a truth I didn’t want to look at. My big confession—the thing I’d been carrying like it explained every part of my broken heart—was that my mom walked out, and I had to run a business while my father drowned in a bottle.

That was my truth.

And then Savannah spoke hers. Quietly. Gently. Like she wasn’t dropping a bomb in the middle of the room.

I already knew her past was dark. I’d seen her scars, felt the silence in the spaces she never filled with words. But hearing it, really hearing what she’d survived, made me feel like a con.

The love of my life died. I haven’t told her that yet. About him . The only man I ever loved. The one I lost. The one I never talk about—because speaking his name feels like opening a wound I’ve spent years pretending didn’t exist.

The love of my life simply died. Hers? He stayed. Stayed and broke her piece by piece. And then came back to haunt her like the final act of a horror show she never auditioned for.

While I’d been hiding behind wine and work and pretty clothes, pretending I had it all together while being terrified to love again.

Savannah had her body broken.

And Me? I was just scared of having my heart broken.

And the truth I hadn’t wanted to face?

Both are valid.

Both are different brands of hell.

Some people carry trauma on their skin. Others carry it in the echo of words that were never said. In the weight of abandonment. In the pressure to be perfect. In the fear that they are too much—or not enough—all at once.

And emotional wounds? They bleed just the same.

I used to think rock bottom was something you climbed out of. That there was a ladder. Or a rope. Or at least a way back up.

But watching Savannah, I realized something else. Sometimes, rock bottom has a basement. Without stairs.

That’s not just survival.

That’s a revolution.

And maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t far from rising myself.

I thought about Ben. About how it felt when his lips met mine all those years ago—how just yesterday, his touch sent a wildfire through every nerve in my body.

I was capable of love.

I was just avoiding it.

But maybe... maybe I could feel something again. Something real. Something that didn’t end with me pretending not to care when a man walked out of my bed and out of my life.

The truth? I’d always been independent enough to not need anyone. But the reality? I wanted Ben.

Maybe it didn’t have to be love.

Maybe we could just use each other.

Let our desire drown out the pain. Let the fire between us burn loud enough to quiet whatever haunted us.

Because I had my demons. And I had no doubt that Ben’s past was riddled with monsters who still walked the earth.

For the first time in days, I felt like everything might actually be okay.

Savannah was healing, slowly, but surely. She’d be going home soon. Free, for real this time. Free from the shadows. From the fear. From the constant tension that used to live in her shoulders like a second skin.

And maybe it was time I found a little freedom, too.

As if on cue, the handle turned. I glanced up just in time to see Jaxson stepping through the door.

“She asleep?” he asked quietly, voice low so it wouldn’t stir her.

“Yeah. Probably about ten minutes ago,” I said, rising from the chair and stretching my legs. “The nurse came in and adjusted her meds.”

“Was she in pain?” His expression tightened, his jaw clenched the way it always did when he was trying not to lose it.

“Yeah. But you’d never know it,” I said softly. “She’s not going to tell you. Even if it is unbearable.”

That pulled a faint laugh from him. “She’s stubborn, huh?”

I looked back at her, peaceful, almost. If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought she was just napping off a long day. And maybe with all that morphine in her system, she was.

“She’s stubborn,” I said. “But she’s strong.”

I leaned over and pulled the blanket up to cover her arms, just in case she got cold.

“Hey, where’s Ben?”

Jaxson slid his hands into his pockets. “Cafeteria. With Nic.”

“Nic?” I blinked. “What’s she doing here?”

He shrugged toward Savannah. “Finishing up some of the debrief from the… shit show.”

Fair enough.

“Okay. She’ll probably be out for a while,” I said, grabbing my bag. “I’m going to see if Ben can run me by my place. I need a shower, real food, maybe a nap in my own bed.”

“Millie,” he said, taking a step closer. “Stay home tonight. I’ve got her covered. If you want to come tomorrow and do the overnight, that’s fine. But you need to rest. Eat. Let your body breathe. If she wakes up and needs you, I’ll give her my phone so you two can talk.”

Normally, I’d argue. I'd assume he just wanted me out of the way. But right now?

All I could think about was Ben.

“Yeah,” I said. “As much as I hate it… the dull ache in my lower back agrees. A night in my bed might help.”

He leaned in and kissed my forehead. “Thanks for loving her, Millie.”

I swatted him in the chest, just hard enough to make my point. “I loved her first, asshole. But if you break her heart—I'll break your face. Remember that.”

And with that, I turned and walked out the door.

I picked up my phone to text Ben in case he was thinking of leaving.

Millie: Don’t leave. I’m coming down.

His reply came almost instantly.

Ben: Corner booth in cafeteria.

I tucked my phone into my pocket and passed through the lobby, my eyes casually scanning the waiting area, until they landed on him.

The same man from the other day. Sitting in the same spot with his head down. Looking at something on his phone.

I started to keep walking. I really did. But something, intuition, maybe, pulled me back.

“Hey, it’s you,” I said, lifting a hand in a half-wave. “No good news?”

The corner of his mouth curved, barely.

“Looks like they’re going to send her home again.”

His voice was calm, almost casual. But his eyes—God, his eyes held something I didn’t understand.

“I’m sorry,” I offered, softening. “That seems like good news though… right?”

He looked at me, that same eerie stillness in his face. Then, like it had been rehearsed:

“She won’t last long this time. But it’s good news. I guess we’ll keep playing games until she leaves this earth.”

It didn’t sit right.

The words.

The way he said them.

The way his tone didn’t match the smile.

But he looked... normal enough. Maybe they actually did play board games or something. Maybe he was just grieving in his own way. It wasn’t my place to judge.

“Hey, how about your friend? What was her name? Samantha?”

“Savannah,” I corrected, not as nervous about him asking now that he couldn’t remember her name. “And yeah. She’s getting to go home soon. Thank you for asking.”

He smiled again, wider this time.

“Good. That’s good to know. Seems like she was a fighter.”

Was.

I ignored it.

“She is,” I said, taking a step back. “I have to get going, but… try to have a good day, alright?”

His head tilted slightly.

Then came his reply. “You, too. Stay safe, young lady.”

It was innocent enough. But something about the way he said it? Didn’t feel innocent at all. I didn’t have time to dwell on it. I was on a mission.

The elevator doors slid open with a soft ding, and I stepped out, brushing a hand through my hair like it could somehow fix the storm inside me. I scanned the cafeteria quickly. Round tables, vending machines lining the back wall, a few nurses and interns chatting over sandwiches.

It didn’t take long to find my target.

Ben.

Sitting exactly where he said he’d be—far corner of the room, back against the wall.

Only… there was no Nic.

Always alert to his surroundings, he locked eyes with me the moment I spotted him and kicked out the chair in front of him from under the table, offering me a seat before I was even close enough to speak.

I crossed the room quickly, grabbing the seat and plopping down across from him.

“Hey,” I said. “Where’s Nic?”

“She left. Said she had another stop to make before heading back to the office.”

I froze. “Back to the office? She’s not tending the clubs today?”

Ben’s jaw twitched. Barely. But enough for me to catch it. “I’m sure she will later. She’s got a little clean-up to do after everything that happened.”

He eyed me, and the weight of his gaze sent a shiver down my spine. “You okay?”

“Actually…” I trailed off, pressing a hand to my stomach. “I’m famished.”

He chuckled. Soft, warm, completely unaware of the effect it had on me.

And just like that, my stomach flipped. Stupid little butterflies. Like they hadn’t already been scorched once.

I hated it.