Page 31 of Royal Beast (Royals of the Underworld #1)

DARCY

I’m not ready for this.

Taking a steadying breath, I push the door open.

The sight of my father nearly knocks me off balance. Max was always larger than life, a man who could fill a room with his voice and his presence. But the figure lying in the hospital bed is frail, his once-strong frame diminished and his face pale, lines of exhaustion streaked across the surface.

His eyes flutter open, and for a moment, they don’t focus. But then recognition dawns and his lips curl into a weak smile. “Darcy.”

I force a smile and step closer to the bed, pulling up the chair beside him. “Hi, Dad.” My voice is soft and careful, as if speaking too loudly might destroy what little strength he has left.

“You came,” he rasps, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Of course I did,” I say, taking his hand in mine. It feels so thin, so fragile, and it breaks something inside me. “I’m sorry it took me so long.”

He closes his eyes for a moment as if summoning the energy to speak. “No, Darcy. I’m the one who should be sorry. For everything. The choices I made, the things I did…” He trails off, his voice cracking. “I put you through hell. You didn’t deserve that.”

Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, but I blink them away. “Oh, Papa,” I whisper, moving closer to grasp his pale, cold hands.

He shakes his head, the movement weak but insistent. “Please, Darcy. I need to know you forgive me.”

I press my lips together, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I do,” I whisper. “I forgive you. You loved me, even if you didn’t always show it the right way. And that’s what matters.”

His grip on my hand tightens, and for the first time, I see tears glistening in his eyes. “You’re a good daughter, Darcy. Better than I deserved.”

A sob escapes me, and I lower my head, resting it against his hand. “I should have been here sooner,” I admit, my voice breaking. “I should have been there for you.”

“You’re here now,” he murmurs, his voice soft and steady despite its weakness. “That’s enough.”

The doctor enters with a soft knock, his expression solemn. He’s a young man in his mid-thirties, his eyes kind but distant as he approaches the bed. Max gives him a small nod of acknowledgment, and I watch as the doctor pulls up a chair and sits across from me.

“Ms. Flynn,” the doctor begins, his tone gentle.

“It’s Mrs. Brannagan,” I correct him automatically.

“Mrs. Brannagan,” he amends. “I’m Dr. Milton. So, I’m afraid the prognosis is not good. Your father has been deteriorating rapidly. Based on his current condition, we estimate he has a few weeks left, at best.”

The words hang there between us, drawing the breath from my lungs. I glance at my father, his face pale, his eyes sunken, but he meets my gaze with a resigned expression.

Max gives a slight nod, his voice rasping when he speaks. “I’m sorry, Darcy,” he whispers, his hand squeezing mine with what little strength he has. “I wish I could’ve done more for you. Given you everything you deserved. But I know it’s too late for that.”

My chest tightens, but I swallow down the lump in my throat, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes. “It’s fine, Dad. You did the best you could. I don’t hold it against you.”

The doctor watches us quietly, his presence almost a distant hum as I continue to hold my father’s hand, both of us sinking into the quiet, a shared understanding passing between us.

Max’s eyes drift closed for a moment, his breathing shallow. “You’ve been a good daughter, Darcy. I know I wasn’t the father you deserved, but you were the daughter I didn’t deserve, and I’m thankful for everything you’ve done to look out for me.”

“I love you, Dad,” I say, my voice breaking as tears well up in my eyes.

“I love you too,” he whispers, barely audible.

He closes his eyes, and a nurse comes in to take his vitals.

I step out of the room to give him some privacy and take a moment to gather myself, reaching into my purse to call Kellan.

After updating him on the situation, he reassures me that Rose is fine.

As we continue talking, my mind drifts back to the distance I kept between Max and myself over the past few months.

There was so much I could have done if I hadn’t been selfishly thinking of my own worries, my own stress.

I could have been there. I could have tried harder to fix things before they got so broken. The regret stings deeply.

Even so, what could I have done? I had my own life. I had to look after my daughter. All I can do is be here for him in the time he has left, even if it doesn’t feel like enough.

“I’ll come back home soon,” I say to Kellan, cutting off the swirl of thoughts threatening to overwhelm me. “I need to get back to him.”

“Take your time,” Kellan replies. “We’ll be here when you’re ready.”

I return to Max’s room, my footsteps slower now, my mind heavy with everything I’m carrying. Max is awake when I walk in, his eyes focused on me as I sit back down beside him. He’s quieter now, his breathing a little more labored, but his gaze is sharp.

“Darcy,” he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve been thinking about you and Kellan.”

I freeze, my stomach dropping. The last thing I want is to talk about Kellan right now, but I can’t avoid it. Not with Max. Not with the way his eyes are searching mine.

“You married him,” he continues, his voice hoarse. “Was that what you wanted, or were you trying to save me again? Trying to fix everything like you always do?”

I swallow hard, unsure of how to answer. I hadn’t expected this conversation, hadn’t anticipated that Max, even in his weakened state, would have the clarity to ask such questions. But he does. And now I’m left trying to find the words to explain myself, even though I’m not entirely sure myself.

“I…” I stumble over my words, unsure of how to put it all into perspective.

How do I explain my choices, all the things that have happened between us?

How do I explain that even though I married him to save my dad, I’ve been developing feelings for him?

I’m not even sure what’s going on between us myself yet, and I don’t know how I could explain that to someone else.

“It’s complicated, Dad.”

Max studies me intently, his expression hardening.

“It’s because of me, isn’t it? You’re trapped with him because of everything that happened with me, because of my damned debts.

It was foolish of me to think you wouldn’t get dragged into this like you always do.

I should never have let things get this bad. ”

“No.” I shake my head quickly. “It’s not like that. I promise I didn’t marry him because of you. I didn’t marry him to fix anything.”

But Max doesn’t seem convinced. He frowns, his gaze searching mine, trying to see whether I’m telling the truth, if I’m lying to him, or, worse, lying to myself.

“I just don’t want you making the same mistakes I’ve made, Darcy.” His voice quavers, but there’s a deep sadness to it, a worry I can’t ignore. “I only want you to be happy. Are you happy with Kellan?”

I swallow, the weight of his words settling deep in my chest. I don’t know how to answer his question. I can’t give him the truth because the truth is complicated, and he doesn’t deserve that burden. I’ve been carrying around so much already, and I can’t add more weight to his shoulders.

“I’m trying,” I finally say, my voice breaking. “I’m doing my best.”

Max watches me, his expression softening with understanding, but there’s a hint of sadness in his eyes. “I see.”

He doesn’t press me further, but I know the weight of his worry will follow me long after I leave this room. The silence between us feels like it stretches beyond the confines of the room. I want to reassure him, but as I watch his face, it relaxes and he starts to fall asleep.

I don’t want to burden him right now. He needs rest. He needs to take it easy.

The last thing he needs is to worry about me.

If I can ease his pain, I’ll find a way.

Maybe it’s better if I just lie to him, tell him that I chose to marry Kellan because we fell in love and that he’s Rose’s biological father.

Would that ease his conscience in his final days?

There are no easy answers, so I settle down to sit by my father’s bedside, holding his hand in mine as he slumbers. His nurse comes back to check on him and change out his saline drip, and I leave to use the restroom.

When I come back, Max is awake again, though he seems tired and drawn. “How’s Rose?” he asks, neither of us willing to revisit our earlier conversation for the moment.

“She’s good,” I say, relieved to have something else to talk about. “She’s been reading more and more on her own. I have some pictures I can show you if you want?”

Max leans in, looking at the photos I show him on my phone’s camera roll. I took some of Rose when we went to the Botanical Gardens, playing with the butterflies, a few from Disney on Ice, and some with her in her little nest after her fall, all cozy and bundled up.

“She was very brave,” I tell him, a soft smile on my face. “She didn’t complain once. She’s been an absolute trooper.”

Max’s eyes glisten for a moment, the corners of his mouth curling into a faint smile. “That’s my girl,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. He reaches out a shaky hand and gently strokes the screen, his finger lingering over Rose’s face. “She’s strong, like her mama.”

I feel my throat tighten as I watch him, my heart aching. Despite everything, despite the past, despite all the regrets that hang between us, there’s still so much love between us. It’s the one thing that’s remained constant through all the years.

But then, the door to the room opens, and my attention snaps away from the moment. My heart stutters in my chest as I see Guy standing in the doorway, looking around the room as if searching for something. He spots me and his eyes flicker with recognition.

“Darcy,” he says, his tone casual but with an edge I can’t quite place. “I was looking for your father.”

I freeze, confusion flooding me. What is Guy doing here? Why is he looking for Max?

Max’s expression tightens, and I can tell he’s just as surprised as I am. Guy is a coworker from work, but I’ve never heard him mention anything about knowing my father.

“Guy?” I ask, my voice shaking slightly with the uncertainty. “How do you know my dad?”

Guy glances at Max, a brief flicker of something unreadable passing between them. Then he looks back at me, his smile fading just a little.

“I have some business with him,” Guy replies, his voice even, but there’s something in his eyes that doesn’t sit right. “It’s important.”

The air in the room thickens, tension rising between us like a storm on the horizon. Max, despite his condition, suddenly looks more alert, more guarded.

I don’t know what’s happening, but I can feel it—the sense that something is off, something I don’t understand. As I glance between Guy and my father, a knot forms in my stomach, a gut feeling that tells me this is not a coincidence.

What the hell is going on?