Page 5 of Fallen Empire (The Fallen Trilogy #2)

Jaxson

I heard every word the nurse hissed under her breath as she pushed past me.

“I don’t know who you are to her, but if you pull anything, I swear to God, I’ll have you escorted out myself.”

She didn’t even wait for a response. Just kept moving.

She had every right.

I didn’t try to defend myself. Didn’t argue. Because for four days, I hadn’t been who Savannah needed. I’d been selfish. Angry. Consumed by grief and shame and whiskey. Lost in my own storm while the woman I loved lay here—fighting for breath.

I should’ve been better. I should’ve been strong enough to sit at her side and talk to her instead of slipping in and out of a drunken stupor. I should’ve held her hand. Read to her. Whispered that I was here, even if she couldn’t respond.

But I didn’t.

Because I didn’t know how to live in a world where she didn’t open her eyes again.

I didn’t drink, not like that. Not in years. But seeing her broken, hooked up to machines, barely clinging to life…

It felt like drowning in slow motion. And I didn’t have a single lifeline left.

She chose it. Threw herself in front of a bullet to save me.

Not the empire. Not some mission. Me . And I couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

Useless. That’s what it was.

And I’ve never been useless. Not once in my life. I was the one who fixed things. Who pulled people out of impossible situations and carried them to safety.

But I couldn’t save her.

And it broke me.

Now, standing here with the smell of antiseptic in my nose and machines buzzing quietly all around me, I finally understood something I’d never wanted to accept.

Love—real love—doesn’t always rescue you.

Sometimes, it just sits beside you in the wreckage and refuses to leave.

And this time, I refused to leave. Mentally or physically.

I stepped into the room, letting the door shut behind me with a soft click. My gaze immediately landed on her.

Savannah.

She looked more alive than she had in days. A little more color in her cheeks. Less sunken in the face. Her breathing wasn’t as labored, and even though the ventilator still did the heavy lifting, something about her presence felt different.

She was in there. I could feel it. Fighting. And I’d be damned if I let her do it alone.

I stepped closer, stopping just at the edge of her bed. Millie stood on the other side, her hand still wrapped around Savannah’s.

“What did the doctor say?” I asked, my voice low, like I didn’t want to disturb the fragile peace in the room.

Millie looked up at me. Her eyes were tired, but clear.

“They ordered a CT scan,” she said quietly. “To check for brain swelling, bleeding—just to make sure everything’s looking stable.”

I nodded once, swallowing the knot that rose up in my throat.

She kept going, her voice steady even though her fingers trembled where they held Savannah’s.

“Her vitals are strong. Oxygen’s holding, blood pressure’s up a little, but nothing dangerous. If the scan looks good, they’re going to try to start weaning her off the ventilator this afternoon.”

My gaze flicked to the machine beside the bed, watching it push steady breaths into Savannah’s lungs. The rise and fall of her chest didn’t feel as mechanical anymore. There was something real behind it. Something alive.

“She really woke up?” I asked.

Millie nodded. “Only for a few seconds. Her eyes opened. She tried to talk.”

I blinked hard, heart stuttering.

“She looked right at me,” Millie added. “I know she’s still in there.”

A beat of silence passed.

“She’s fighting,” I said.

Millie nodded. “She always has been.”

I moved around the bed slowly and lowered myself into the chair beside her. For a long moment, I didn’t speak. I just looked at her.

Her skin wasn’t as pale. The bruising had started to fade. There was a warmth to her now that hadn’t been there yesterday, or the day before.

I didn’t imagine it.

She was fighting her way back.

I let out a breath and reached for her hand, careful and slow. My thumb brushed the inside of her wrist.

“I should’ve been here,” I said again, this time more to her than to Millie.

“You’re here now,” Millie said gently. “That’s what matters.”

Maybe it was. Maybe it wasn’t.

But it didn’t feel like enough. Not when I’d wasted four days convincing myself it was easier to break than to bend.

I leaned forward, resting my forearm gently on the edge of the mattress.

“I’m so damn proud of you,” I whispered. “You’ve always been stronger than me, haven’t you?”

Her fingers didn’t move, but I swore I felt the faintest tension there. Like her body was listening, even if her mind hadn’t caught up yet.

A throat cleared softly behind me.

I turned to see Ben leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, expression unreadable, but his eyes were on Millie.

“I can take you home,” he said, voice even. “Just for a little while. To shower. Eat. I’ll bring you right back.”

Millie didn’t move. “I’m fine.”

“You’ve been here for four days.”

She squared her shoulders. “And I’ll be here for forty more if I have to.”

Ben’s jaw ticked. “That’s not the point.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she snapped, her voice low but sharp. “Is there a limit to how long I’m allowed to care?”

“Millie—”

“No, really,” she cut in. “Because last I checked, I don’t answer to you.”

I shifted slightly, not wanting to interrupt, but not about to let this spiral either.

“Millie,” I said gently, “will you do it for me?”

She looked at me, startled.

“I haven’t talked to her in days,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “I’ve been a selfish asshole. I need to be with her. Just the two of us. Just for a little while.”

Her expression softened—just a fraction. She looked back at Savannah, then over at Ben, like she was weighing the fight against the facts. But I hadn’t demanded when he did. I knew Millie, and she didn’t like to take orders from anyone. Not even me.

Finally, with a quiet sigh, she nodded.

“Okay,” she whispered. “But when they get ready to take her off the vent, you better call me.”

“I will,” I promised. And I would.

Ben opened the door for her, and she brushed past him with barely a glance. But even in silence, something passed between them. Something unfinished.

I didn’t call it out.

But I’d noticed it.

There’d been a shift between them over the past few days, something I didn’t fully understand, but couldn’t ignore.

The kind of charged silence that lingered too long in a room.

The way Ben’s eyes always found Millie first. The way she didn’t flinch when he barked orders, but still bristled like she was daring him to push her.

And she shouldn’t have been there.

Ben made that clear the night it happened. He’d told her no. Had ordered Reaper to take her to the safe house. But she showed up anyway. Because Millie never listened when someone told her to back down.

And now? Now I was pretty damn sure the bruised knuckles on Ben’s right hand didn’t come from the fight we’d been in.

They came from whatever went down between him and Reaper.

And while neither of them had said a word about it, I saw the story all over Ben’s silence—and Millie’s refusal to meet his eyes for more than a second.

There was something boiling between them. Something that hadn’t come to a head yet, but would.

Eventually.

But right now… all I could focus on was the quiet rise and fall of Savannah’s chest. And the fact that—for the first time in days—I wasn’t watching her die.

I brushed my thumb along her knuckles.

“I don’t know if you can hear me,” I murmured, voice rough. “But I need you to.”

My eyes stayed on her face. Every inch of it committed to memory. The curve of her cheekbone, the light freckles near her nose, the scar that traced just beneath her jawline. The one she never liked anyone to see.

“I’m so damn mad at you, Vannah.”

The words hit the air before I could swallow them. I exhaled through my nose, jaw tight.

“You were supposed to let me protect you. That was the deal, remember?” I gave a bitter little laugh. “But no. You had to go and throw yourself in front of a bullet like it was nothing.”

My grip tightened just slightly, not enough to hurt, just enough to feel her there.

I looked at her, really looked at her. Still. Silent. But something in me believed she could hear every damn word.

“You scared the hell out of me,” I whispered. “You hear me, baby? You scared the hell out of me.”

I shook my head and gave a strained breath, the kind that choked halfway up my throat.

“I know you thought you were doing the right thing. You always do. Just like your mother.”

I paused.

“Barbara,” I said, softer now. “Your mom…I tried to tell you. Right before everything fell apart. But maybe you couldn’t hear it through the hurt I’d caused.

I thought by telling you I broke your trust. And honestly, I did.

I should have told you sooner, I just didn’t know how.

And I still wasn’t sure of your role in everything. ”

I leaned in closer, the ache in my chest tightening like a fist. Coward shit, I know. But telling her face to face again—risking her throwing me out for good—wasn’t an option anymore.

I watched for any flicker of reaction, even if I knew it was probably too early.

“She knew I had a reputation. Not the one the tabloids talk about, but the real one. The one that’s buried under layers of redacted files and burned records. I didn’t know it then. The reasons. But she apparently saw what Bruce was becoming. What he was building.”

I smiled, just barely. “Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?”

“I’d known about you for years. God, did she love talking about you.

I think even then she wanted us to meet.

Play matchmaker, or maybe just so you would know I was going to protect you one day.

” I rubbed my thumb gently against her palm again, this time to help give me a little strength.

I saw so much of Barbara Sinclair in the woman I currently had my eyes locked in on.

“When she wrote that letter. I’d dropped everything to go after you.

I think a part of me fell in love with you before I ever knew who you really were.

So telling you before it was time meant coming off as a complete stalker.

” I laughed, shaking my head. Because the truth was—I’d stalk her to the ends of the earth if that’s what it took to protect her, even from a distance.

I looked down at her hand in mine, then lifted it gently to my lips.

“But she was right about one thing she told me. You’d risk your life if it meant saving someone else. Especially if you found out the type of man Bruce really was. She said you’d try to rescue every child you could.”

I swallowed hard, voice tight with guilt and something deeper, something helpless.

“Your mother helped save thousands of innocent lives over the years. She funneled intel. Helped us rescue hundreds of women and children. She went toe-to-toe with monsters, and she never flinched.”

My voice broke slightly as I continued.

“She was the strongest woman I’d ever known… until you walked through my door.”

A beat passed. Then another.

“You don’t even know what you did that day. When you decided to put my life before yours, you didn’t just save me. You saved every life Bruce would’ve taken after. Every child and woman he would’ve sold. Or worse. You stopped a war in its tracks—and you didn’t even think twice.”

My hand gripped hers a little tighter.

“You’re stronger than me. Than all of us. But that doesn’t mean you get to carry it alone. That doesn’t mean you get to take the hit while the rest of us fall apart.”

I exhaled a breath that sounded more like a confession than a release.

“I’m supposed to be the protector. That’s what I do. That’s who I am. And you—you took that away from me. You didn’t even give me the chance to stop it.”

I leaned forward again, my forehead gently brushing the back of her hand. I kissed it gently. Lingering.

“But I love you for it anyway,” I whispered. “Even when I hate that you did it.”

Silence wrapped around us again, thick with grief and love and unspoken promises.

“I’m here now,” I said. “And I’m not going anywhere. No more secrets. No more walls. When you wake up, because I know you will, I’ll tell you everything. I’ll give you everything.”

My lips brushed her knuckles one more time.

“I love you, Savannah. So damn much. Please… just come back.”

I hoped the conviction in my voice was enough to wake something inside of her. God knows I’d questioned everything over the past four days.

Whether she hated me.

Whether she’d meant the things she said the night she walked away—right before Bruce took her. She’d just needed space she’d said.

But then, on her last breath, she’d said my name.

That was love.

Not vengeance. Not obligation.

It was her last thought before the dark pulled her under.

And no matter how much I’d failed her before, that meant everything.

I held her hand tighter, letting the weight of it settle deep in my chest.

I could make this right.

I would.