Page 31 of Fallen Empire (The Fallen Trilogy #2)

I pulled the sheet all the way back, careful not to jostle any of the wires.

“Okay, Rulebreaker,” Ruth said, motioning to Millie. “You’re going to stand at the end. Let’s see if we can get her to sit up first, then we’ll work on getting her legs over the side.”

Ruth then nodded toward the door. “Young man, grab the walker for me, would you?”

Ben didn’t speak, just moved. Almost automatic, like following orders gave him permission to stop shooting daggers at my head.

Ruth stepped in on Savannah’s left side and gave her a look that said don’t even think about quitting now . “You ready to earn that release, sweetheart?”

Savannah didn’t answer right away. Her hand gripped the sheets tight. Then, she nodded once.

Ruth adjusted the bed to lift her up in slow, mechanical increments. Not too fast, not too much. They had to ease her up carefully, especially after the trauma. I knew the protocol, but it didn’t make it any easier to watch.

Despite her no-nonsense attitude, Ruth’s hands were steady and deliberate. Every movement had purpose. She was a damn force that was hell-bent on making sure Savannah left this hospital stronger than when she came in.

I used to think that kind of grit only came from combat. But watching her work? I was starting to believe it came from something deeper. That primal instinct women tap into when protecting someone they love. The same fire Savannah had burned into her bones.

I looked around the room, and for a split second, all the tension—Ben’s anger, Millie’s rage, my guilt—was suspended.

Everyone here had dropped the bullshit to make sure Savannah was okay.

And for that, I owed every one of them more than they’d ever know.

I watched Millie reach forward without hesitation, resting a steady hand on Savannah’s knee.

“Easy,” she whispered. “We’ve got you.”

Savannah winced. Her muscles were trembling already, and she hadn’t even moved her legs yet.

Ruth leaned over slightly. “We’re going to pivot your legs off the bed now. Nice and slow. Mr. Westbrook, watch her side. If she shifts too far, brace her back.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Savannah took a few deep breaths, and with a little help from both of them, she managed to slide her legs over the edge of the bed.

Her feet hit the floor.

I’d seen people be strong for others before. But as I watched Savannah sit upright, pretending not to be in pain, it wasn’t strength I saw. Not really. It was something colder. Fire turning to ice.

People talk about being brave. About putting on a strong face. Fake it until you make it, that’s what they say. But this wasn’t bravery. This was instinct. A reflex born from pain.

Disguise, not denial.

She wasn’t faking it. I was watching her shift right in front of me, slipping into the mask she wore for everyone else. Like survival depended on no one seeing her break.

Because that’s what she was used to. What her mind had trained her body to do—fight through the wreckage.

When this was over, and we were away from everyone, I’d have to remind her she was safe to break with me. She could be herself. No masks. No armor.

“Let me try,” she said, just as Ben pushed the walker in front of her.

She gripped both sides, knuckles white, and pulled it close as she slid to the edge of the bed, bracing herself.

“Go slow. We’ll be right here if you need us,” Ruth encouraged, her voice firm but gentle.

I stayed close, shifting fully onto the bed behind her now. Not touching her, but close enough to catch her if she faltered. I wanted to be her strength in any way she'd let me. Even if it was just being near.

Savannah took a breath. Then another. Her hands shook first, then the tremor moved down her arms and into her legs.

“Shift your weight forward,” Ruth said softly. “Let your legs catch you.”

Millie stood on her other side, completely still. The sass was gone. Even the fire. What was left was something steadier. Quieter. Pure devotion.

Savannah leaned forward. Just a little. Her legs adjusted beneath her, trembling with the effort. Every inch she moved looked like it hurt.

Her jaw clenched. Her shoulders tensed. Then her knees buckled.

Millie instinctively reached out, but Savannah stopped her with a whisper.

“Don’t. Don’t help me.” Her voice was quiet, but firm. Ruth gave her a nod of respect. I stayed frozen, unmoving, unless she asked me to. She shifted again, hands gripping tight, steadying herself.

And then—she stood.

Not perfectly. Not without shaking. But she was on her feet.

For the first time since I held her body in the middle of that hell on earth, she was upright.

The room held its breath. So did I.

She was pale, sweating, barely keeping it together, but she was standing. And I’d never seen anything more powerful.

Nurse Ruth gave her a once-over, hands still hovering close but never touching. “You think you can take a step forward, sweetheart?”

Instead of answering, Savannah turned her head slowly, like even that motion demanded effort.

Her eyes found Millie, who was beaming from ear to ear, radiating the kind of pride that only comes from watching someone you love do the impossible.

And that’s exactly what was happening.

Someone we thought we’d never breathe air with again was not only breathing, but standing.

And she was about to take a step.

Savannah’s lips twitched. Just slightly. And for a second, I forgot we were in a hospital. Forgot the weight of everything we’d been through.

Because right there, in that split-second, she didn’t look like someone recovering. She looked like someone who’d already made up her mind. Someone who’d heard Alex’s name and realized the only way to protect the people she loved was to rise—no matter how much it hurt.

She gave a small nod, barely more than a breath, then shifted her weight forward.

Her right foot moved first. Tentative. Shaky. But it moved.

“Atta girl,” Ruth said softly, barely above a whisper.

Savannah exhaled through her nose like it hurt. It probably did.

Then came the left foot.

One step.

That’s all it was.

But to me?

It felt like watching someone drag themselves out of their own grave.

Her breaths came short and ragged, but she didn’t stop. Didn’t look for help. Her fingers gripped the walker like it was the only thing anchoring her to this world.

“You good?” Millie asked, her voice just as tight as Savannah’s grip on the side of the walker.

Savannah didn’t answer right away. Just huffed, then muttered, “Define good.”

A half-laugh escaped Millie before she could stop it.

“I mean… you’re vertical, so that’s a win.”

Savannah smirked, but it faltered when her knee buckled slightly. She caught herself before anyone else had to.

Ruth moved forward in a flash, steadying the back of the walker. “You want to sit and try again later?”

I’d moved off the bed, close enough to see any sign that she needed me. Savannah’s jaw locked. She didn’t look at any of us when she spoke. “No. I’m walking.”

Another step. Slower this time.

She was gritting her teeth so hard I thought she might crack a molar.

But damn if she wasn’t doing it.

And I couldn't stop watching her.

The world kept spinning around us. Monitors beeping, the muffled sounds of hospital chatter bleeding in from the hallway, but my focus stayed locked on her.

Not because I was worried she’d fall.

But because I didn’t want to miss a single second of her rising.

That phoenix fire I’d seen in her once—the one she tried so damn hard to bury—was alive again. She was still ash-covered and bruised, but she was standing in the fire and refusing to burn.

“You sure you’re not just trying to impress the hot nurse?” Millie teased, eyeing Ruth with a smirk.

Savannah snorted, half-laughing, half-wincing. “At this point, I’d flash her if it got me out of here faster.”

Ruth didn’t miss a beat. “You flash me, sweetheart, and I’ll make sure you stay another three days just for the paperwork.”

Millie choked on a laugh. Savannah’s next step was wobbly, but she was still moving forward.

And me?

I stood behind her, completely useless, completely awestruck.

This wasn’t recovery.

It was resurrection.

But even in the middle of that miracle, something twisted low in my chest. A guilt I hadn’t earned the right to ignore.

I stood there, watching the woman I loved take steps no one was sure she’d ever take again, and all I could think was that she shouldn’t have had to. Not like this. Not because of me.

If I’d found Bruce sooner, if I’d paid closer attention, if I’d been half the man she believed I was.

.. maybe she wouldn’t be here, fighting for every inch of progress with fire in her veins and pain in her eyes.

She was rising, yes. Defying everything meant to destroy her.

But beneath the awe, beneath the breathless pride, there was shame.

Because while the world would call her a miracle, I couldn’t help but wonder if I was the reason she needed one in the first place.

And Koslov?

He was already circling.

I may have failed her with Bruce—but I’d be damned if I let it happen again.

I pulled out my phone and opened a new message to Nic. Before I hit send, I added Ben’s name.

Jaxson: “Have Layla prepped. She’s going in soon.”

If Koslov thought he still had the upper hand, he was about to learn just how wrong he was.

I wasn’t waiting for him to strike.

I was coming for him first.