Page 29 of Fallen Empire (The Fallen Trilogy #2)

“Because she needs both of us. And I’m not leaving you to carry that weight alone.”

For a second, I didn’t say anything. Just stared at him like maybe I could see inside his head. But there was no agenda. No smirk. Just honesty.

I looked away before my feelings started showing on my face. “Fine. But don’t hover.”

“No promises.”

He backed out of the parking spot, and I let my head fall against the headrest, eyes drifting shut as we pulled into traffic.

The car ride was quiet—too quiet. My nerves were creeping back in now that we were actually on the way. Savannah. The hospital. The part where I’d completely bailed on my best friend. Where I’d been selfish.

I bit the inside of my cheek. “I know she probably won’t even care that I wasn’t there.” I hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but maybe hearing I wasn’t a complete piece of crap would make it easier to breathe.

Ben glanced sideways. “Mills, even if she noticed, she’s not the type to hold it against you. And Jax is there. She’s fine.”

God. He was right. Again.

Still, I couldn’t shake the guilt pressing in on me. I’d let my guard down. One night. That’s all it took. And while I’d been wrapped up in emotions and orgasms, Savannah had been waking up alone, without me.

Sure, Jaxson was there. But it wasn’t me.

And maybe she didn’t expect it to be. Maybe she never really saw me as the person who’d always show up. She never asked me to be her person. Hell, I don’t think she even realized she needed one.

But the day she walked into my office—with that spark in her eyes someone had clearly tried to dim—I knew. I knew I’d do anything to keep it from burning out.

So I stayed. I cleared my schedule. I made excuses. I inserted myself into her life like it was second nature. Because it was.

And that night before Club 42, when I finally saw what she’d been hiding beneath those long sleeves and perfect smiles, I didn’t need an explanation. It was realization.

I’d protect her forever. In every way that counted.

Even if she never knew why. Even if she never called it what it was.

Soulmates .

I rubbed my palms over my thighs, trying to get the anxiety out before it swallowed me whole. I couldn’t screw this up again.

The elevator doors slid open with a mechanical sigh, and I stepped into the quiet hallway of the critical care floor.

The scent of antiseptic hit me like it always did, sharp and cold, like it had something to prove.

It was early, too early for the usual shift change chatter or the buzz of visitors, which made every footstep echo louder than it should have.

I paused for a second, letting my eyes drift down the hallway. The seat in the corner—his seat—was empty.

Gone.

The man with the weary eyes and the wedding band he never took off.

He was really gone this time. I swallowed the lump forming in my throat and briefly wondered how his wife was doing. If she made it through the night. If he ever got the miracle he’d been praying for in silence while the rest of the world moved around him.

Ben didn’t say anything as we walked toward Savannah’s room. He didn’t need to. The air was already thick enough.

I pushed the door open gently, hoping she’d still be asleep. It was early, and for once, I didn’t want to interrupt anything—not rest, not peace, not even the chance of a dream.

Jaxson was right where I figured he’d be, planted in the chair beside her like he’d never moved. His eyes lifted when we walked in, tired but alert.

“Hey,” I whispered, stepping in quietly.

He nodded. “Hey.”

I glanced at Savannah—still asleep, thank God—and then back at him. “Did she wake up at all?”

“Yeah, for a bit,” he said, his voice low. “Not long.”

I nodded and made my way around the bed, settling into the other chair across from him. “She okay?”

“As okay as she can be.”

I didn’t press. I just let myself breathe a little. She was alive. Resting. That was enough for now.

Ben hovered for a second, like he wasn’t sure if he should stay or give us space. I looked over and gave him the smallest nod. He sat down along the wall, arms crossed, scanning the room like a bodyguard on shift. Typical.

I leaned forward, brushing my thumb along the edge of Savannah’s blanket. “She looks… better.”

Jaxson exhaled like he’d been holding his breath since we walked in. “She’s strong.”

Yeah. That was the part I never doubted.

I don’t know how long we sat there—Ben, Jaxson, and me. No one really spoke. Just the steady sound of Savannah’s breathing, the occasional beep from the monitors, and the quiet rhythm of the hospital floor waking up around us.

I let my head fall back against the chair, eyes drifting closed for a moment. Just one minute. Just enough to center myself.

Then I heard her stir.

It was small—just the shift of sheets and the faintest exhale, like she was breaking the surface of sleep for the first time in hours.

I sat up straight, my hand already reaching for hers.

Savannah’s lashes fluttered, brows pinching in that confused little way she always did when waking up somewhere unfamiliar. Her lips parted like she had something to say but hadn’t found the words yet.

“Hey,” I whispered, squeezing her hand gently. “You with us?”

Her gaze met mine, a slow, cloudy recognition settling behind her eyes.

“Millie…”

I smiled. “Yeah, it’s me. Told you I’d be back.”

She blinked a few times, the fog in her eyes clearing, and for the first time in what felt like forever… she smiled. Just a little.

“Where’ve you been?”

The weight of it all pressed behind my ribs, but I forced a smile anyway.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Long story. I’ll tell you everything once you’re up for sarcasm and judgment.” I didn’t miss the look Jaxson shot to Ben. Quick. Subtle. But pointed.

Whatever happened while I was gone, it mattered.

But now wasn’t the time to unpack it. Right now, she was alert. And breathing. And managing a smile, even if it was small.

She let out the weakest laugh I’d ever heard, but it was still hers. “Deal.”

“You want water? Hungry?”

She glanced around the room, eyes landing on Jaxson first, then Ben, then back to me. “I think… just water for now.”

Jaxson was already moving, the cup in his hand before I could even turn. He tilted the straw gently toward her lips, and she sipped with quiet effort, her hand barely steady.

I didn’t move. I just… watched him. Watched the way his eyes never left her face. The way his hand hovered under her wrist like he was afraid she might vanish if he let go.

In that moment, something inside me settled.

Because whatever this was between them—whatever I’d doubted or questioned or tried to rationalize—it was real.

Jaxson would help me if I needed it, sure.

But for her? He’d burn the whole damn world down. The love in his eyes wasn’t loud or poetic. It wasn’t wrapped in grand gestures or hollow promises.

It was in the way he leaned in when she breathed. In the way he remembered how she liked her water—no ice. In the way he made her feel like the center of a universe that had spent far too long spinning without her.

And somehow, I wasn’t jealous. I wasn’t bitter.

I was just… grateful.

Because she’d survived hell. Because not only did she have me, for the rest of her damn life, she had someone who’d never let her walk through fire alone again.

Not now. Not ever.