Page 11 of The Reckoning (Oakmount Elite #7)

SEVEN

LILIAN

C onsciousness returns in fragments—disjointed sensations floating in darkness.

The sheets beneath me are soft, comforting.

I’d be able to enjoy the moment if it wasn’t for the dull pain throbbing in my head.

Or the fact that I don’t know where I am.

The antiseptic smell that always reminds me of hospital rooms and fear tickles my nostrils.

I try to open my eyes but they’re so heavy, like my eyelids have been replaced with lead weights.

I remember falling asleep in Aries’s lap and then…nothing.

“Easy now,” a voice says. Male. Unfamiliar. “You’re safe. It’s okay.”

Fear overtakes me, and I force my eyes open, blinking against the soft light.

The room slowly comes into focus—sparse, utilitarian, dominated by the bed I’m lying in.

Not a hospital room, despite the medical equipment.

The walls are bare concrete, the ceiling crossed with exposed pipes.

A warehouse, maybe. Or some kind of industrial space converted for use. Not Arson’s warehouse, though.

A man leans over me, studying my face with professional interest.

All I can do is blink as I try to take in every detail. Older, maybe mid-sixties, with a round face and wire-rimmed glasses. His white coat is immaculate, contrasting with the scruffiness of his salt-and-pepper beard.

“Good, good,” he murmurs, pulling out a penlight. He shines it in each eye, and before I can protest, he’s done. “Pupillary response normal. Follow my finger, please.”

I track his finger as it moves from side to side, fighting the urge to slap his hand away. The doctor—at least I assume he’s a doctor—seems satisfied with whatever he sees.

“Where am I?” My voice is raspy, like I’ve been screaming. Maybe I have been . No, probably because I can’t remember the last time I ate or drank anything.

“Somewhere safe,” he answers, unhelpfully. “Any pain? Nausea? Dizziness?”

“Yes, my head hurts a little,” I admit, reaching up to touch the tender spot at my temple. “I think I just hit it on one of those guys’ chins when he grabbed me.”

“Nothing much. You seem to have a few bruises, including that one on your temple, but everything else seems to be within normal range. You’ve been sleeping for some time since you were brought here, and your…er…companions have been worried.”

“Hours?” How long have I been here? I struggle to sit up, ignoring the way the room tilts around me at the sudden movement. “Who are you? How did I get here?”

The man places a steadying hand on my shoulder, gently guiding me back against the pillows. “My name is Dr. Banks. I can’t explain what happened because I wasn’t there. I’m just the guy they call when medical attention is needed. You’ll need to ask one of the men who brought you here.”

One of the men who brought me here? Arson? Aries? My pulse quickens, setting off the monitor I hadn’t noticed he attached to my finger.

“Relax,” Dr. Banks admonishes, adjusting the small rectangle beeping away with my heart. “Your heart rate is already elevated. No need to stress it further.”

My heart. It’s always my heart. The defective organ that’s defined my entire existence, dictated every choice, every restriction.

“I’m fine,” I say automatically, the response hardwired after years of medical scrutiny. “My heart condition is managed.”

Dr. Banks raises a bushy eyebrow. “I suppose managed is one word for it. Though from these readings, I’d say exaggerated might be more accurate. At least from the quick explanation I received from one of the Mr. Hayes.”

Exaggerated? His observation feels like a physical slap. It’s what the older man in the suit said too. What I’ve secretly suspected for years but never dared to confirm.

Before I can question him further, the door on the opposite side of the room flies open. It bangs against the wall with enough force to make me flinch.

Dr. Banks is also startled, nearly dropping his clipboard.

All the air in the room seems to evaporate when I spot Arson standing in the doorway, his chest heaving like he’s run a marathon. It takes me a moment to realize he’s wearing an expensive suit. The fabric is rumpled, his tie is missing, and the top buttons are undone.

He looks like he was playing the role of his brother, but why? Our eyes lock and the intensity within that hazel gaze steals the breath from my lungs.

“Leave us,” he says to the doctor, his gaze never wavering from mine. “Now.”

Dr. Banks clears his throat. “She needs rest and monitoring.”

“I know what she needs.” Arson’s voice drops to a dangerous register that brooks no argument. “Get out.”

The doctor sighs as if he realizes he’s lost the battle and starts to gather up his things with unhurried movements that seem to irritate Arson more. “Very well. Please call if anything gets worse.”

“I know how to monitor her,” Arson snaps.

With one last concerned glance at me, Dr. Banks shuffles past Arson and out the door, closing it behind him with pointed gentleness.

As soon as he’s gone something shifts between us.

The air becomes heavier, as if it’s carrying all the words that need to be said.

For a moment, neither of us speaks. Arson remains frozen just inside the room, his gaze roaming over every inch of my body.

I can see him mentally cataloging every scrape and bruise, and the old T-shirt I don’t even remember putting on yesterday.

His perfectly sculpted features are tight with varying emotions—relief, rage, guilt, fear—each of them battling for dominance.

“They fucking hurt you,” he finally says, the words raw, scraped from somewhere deep and wounded inside him.

“I’m okay.” I try to soothe his worry. “Where are we? What did I miss?”

In three quick strides, he’s at my side. He drops to his knees on the floor beside the bed. The gesture is so unexpected, so uncharacteristic of the controlled, calculating man I’ve come to know, that it both concerns and warms me at the same time.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, his voice breaking on the words. “I’m so fucking sorry, Lilian. All of this is my fault.”

To see him so devastated, so hurt, kills me.

He bows his head, his forehead nearly touching the edge of the mattress while his shoulders curve inward.

It looks like he’s folding under the weight of his guilt.

I’ve never seen him so vulnerable, stripped of pretense, his carefully constructed walls crumbling right before my eyes.

It’s terrifying and beautiful all at once. To see such a dangerous man brought to his knees by me.

“Arson,” I whisper his name while reaching out to touch his hair. The strands are softer than I expect, and I run my fingers through the strands a few times to make sure this isn’t a dream. “Look at me.”

He slowly lifts his head, and the naked emotion in his eyes nearly undoes me.

It’s at that moment that I realize I’m seeing the real Arson for the first time.

All his layers are pulled back. He’s no longer the vengeful mastermind.

The cold strategist. No, before me is a man broken and remade by circumstances beyond his control, carrying wounds so deep they’ve become part of his identity.

Just like me.

“Am I pissed off, yes, but mostly at the assholes who took me. Where’s Aries?”

He flinches at his brother’s name and shakes his head. “In the other room, he’s talking to Drew about something else. I’m sure he’ll come barging in any second now.”

I pull away now, staring down at him. “Did you not learn your lesson in all this? Apparently locking you two idiots up did nothing to try to fix things.”

He sighs deeply. “You think things can be fixed with one conversation. That years of abuse and torture can be erased because my brother says he’s sorry?”

It’s my turn to sigh, and I shake my head. “No, maybe that was naive of me to say and think. I know you two have a lot to work through, but I can’t be the bone stuck in the middle. I need to know you’ll try. Tell me you’ll try.”

When his eyes harden along with the set of his jaw, I shake my head.

“I know you think you failed me, but you didn’t.

All that matters is that you came, that you didn’t leave me there.

” I cup his cheek this time. “I can’t live without you, and I can’t live without him, either.

So regardless of the hatred between you two, you’re both stuck with each other unless you want to hurt me. ”

“I would never hurt you.” He shakes his head. “I wish I had been there sooner, that they never got their hands on you in the first place. I should’ve protected you better.” His jaw clenches beneath my palm. “When I heard you scream?—”

“Shhh, it’s okay. I’m here now,” I interrupt, unable to bear the self-recrimination in his voice.

“We both are. But I need to know we aren’t going to just keep fighting and making things worse.

I’ll say this only once, Arson. If you want me, you can have me.

All of me. But the same goes for Aries. I belong to you both equally, or I belong to neither of you. ”

There’s a heartbeat in which I couldn’t even believe I’d said that out loud. Then he sighs long and deep, licking his lips as if he’s thinking, then he glances back up at me.

Something shifts in his expression—a hunger, a need so primal it makes me shiver. His hand comes up, covering mine, his touch soft and warm. Turning his head, he presses his lips against my palm, the gesture so tender that an ache forms in my chest.

“Fuck…you don’t understand, Lilian. When I thought I’d lost you,” he murmurs against my skin. “When Drew said you were passed out, that you needed medical attention?—”

“Drew?” I blink, trying to place the name. “Aries’s friend? Why was he there? Did he help rescue me?”

“They both did,” Arson admits reluctantly. “While I played the dutiful son role for Richard.”

The mention of my stepfather makes me sick to my stomach. That explains his outfit. “He knew I was missing?”

“I don’t know if he knew, but he knows something ,” Arson confirms, his expression darkening like an impending storm cloud. “He mentioned a new treatment protocol that they want to try on you. Something developed at Hayes Enterprises Medical Research Division.”

The same division that ran the facility where Arson was kept. Panic fills my veins. I won’t be trapped, won’t be another victim.

“They want to trap me,” I whisper. “Like they trapped you.”

“I would love to see them try.” Arson smiles, the look so terrifying it even scares me . He rises from his knees and settles on the edge of the bed. “They’ll wish death had come to them sooner if they try to hurt you or take you away from me again.”

The ferocity in his voice, the absolute certainty—it stirs the embers of desire in me, an answering flame to his. Without thinking, I reach for him, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer.

“Lilian,” he warns, even as he leans in. There’s no denying our pull. Even he can feel the flames of desire licking at our skin. “You’re injured and stressed. I couldn’t…”

“I’m not really injured, and I’ll be stressed my whole life. That doesn’t change that I want you,” I breathe, cutting him off. “Or lessen how much I need you right now.”

“Goddammit, Lilian.” I can’t help but smile at the way he curses my name while watching his resistance shatter—quiet but devastating, like a dam giving way beneath too much pressure.

I’m mesmerized by the flare of his nostrils and the tight clench of his jaw. How he tries to fight the inevitable before giving in with a low, broken groan that sounds like it’s being dragged from the very center of his being.