Page 41 of Watch Me Burn
AARON
T he pain hits like a sledgehammer to my shoulder, white-hot and vicious. Every nerve screams at once, like my body just realized it’s breaking now that the adrenaline’s gone.
My vision blurs. Shapes swim in and out of focus as I fight to breathe.
Caterina’s crouched over me, wild-eyed and desperate. Her palms are slick with crimson, pressed hard against my side.
“Aaron. Stay with me. Do you hear me? Don’t you dare fucking do this.”
Her words sound muffled, like she’s shouting from underwater. But I grab onto them anyway, use them as an anchor to stay conscious.
I blink hard. She sharpens into focus.
Fierce. Blazing. Real .
The hallucination shatters. She’s not smoke or some dying brain’s cruel joke. She’s here, flesh and blood and fury.
A ragged breath escapes me. “I thought—” My throat feels shredded. “I saw you...”
“I’m here.” She cups my face with shaking fingers. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Her forehead touches mine for one heartbeat before she’s barking orders at someone I can’t see.
“Tristan! I’ve got him—go!”
I cough, tasting copper. “Where’s Keira?”
“Gone.” Tristan appears, scanning me like he’s cataloging damage. “Disappeared the second blood hit the floor. I’m sorry. Can you walk?”
I nod, but the moment I try to stand, agony slams through me. My jaw clenches as I force myself upright.
Caterina’s arm circles my waist, steadying me. Each step sends lightning up my spine, but it’s nothing compared to the hollow ache in my chest. We had Keira and then we lost her.
“Who the hell was shooting at us? Her people? Ours?”
“Both, we think,” Tristan says before moving ahead while Cat’s grip tightens on me. Her fingers slip in the wetness, but she doesn’t let go—won’t let either of us fall.
My little nightmare is terrified. I can feel it radiating off her in waves.
“Reckless idiot,” she mutters, more to herself than me. The fear radiates off her, small but sharp.
“I wasn’t thinking.”
“No shit.”
“You almost died. What was I supposed to do?” My words come out hoarse and raw. “You were exposed. They had a clear shot.”
She stops dead and looks up at me.
For the first time since our worlds crashed together, Caterina Mortelle drops every mask. No deflection. No venom. She just looks at me with terror in her eyes, not for herself but for me.
She opens her mouth, closes it again. Swallows hard. When she finally speaks, her tone is blade-sharp and flat. “I had it under control.”
“I know, baby. But I couldn’t risk it.”
The silence that follows is loaded with everything we haven’t said. Her grip tightens around my ribs, anchoring me even as my strength fades away.
“Vehicle’s ready,” Tristan calls. “Time to go.”
We climb into the SUV. The second the door slams, Caterina’s back to work; tearing fabric, pressing gauze, patching me up with movements that look calm but feel frantic.
“You scared the shit out of me, Jackson.”
“Did I?”
She doesn’t look up, doesn’t respond, like she never meant to say it. Christ, if I could crack open that beautiful skull and crawl inside, maybe I’d finally understand her.
“Mortelle and Doyle coordinated this,” Tristan announces, scrolling through his phone.
I grit my teeth against another wave of pain. “Then why shoot Keira? She’s one of theirs.”
“Maybe not anymore. Maybe she’s been playing all sides and finally lost control.”
“Either she found something she shouldn’t have,” Tristan’s tone darkens, “or she made her move. Either way, this wasn’t a failure. It was a misdirection.”
“We were the decoy and didn’t even see it,” Caterina adds.
The truth sits between us like a loaded weapon.
I try to shift and get more comfortable, but pain tears through my shoulder and I sink back with a groan.
“Don’t.” Caterina’s palm flattens against the wound, applying pressure.
Tristan glances up. His cold mask cracks just enough to show genuine concern underneath.
“I’ll handle this and dig deeper. You just focus on breathing.” He reaches forward, gripping my chin.
“You’re hilarious,” I rasp.
“At least I’ve got that going for me.”
“Glad you two find this amusing.” Caterina rolls her eyes.
Tristan goes quiet, staring out the window. “Can’t shake the feeling this is my fault.”
I frown. “It’s not.”
“Should’ve known she’d run.”
“You said it was a clean lead. How could you have known?”
His jaw works. “It was clean. Until it wasn’t.”
I study him, then ask the question that’s been eating at me since the ambush started. Right now he looks lost, shaken by something deeper than tonight’s chaos.
“You know her well. Beyond Dublin.”
A long pause. “I did. Past tense. We all have ghosts, and sometimes they catch up.”
I want to push, but darkness is creeping in around the edges and fast.
The city glows beyond the glass, gold and neon bleeding together. It feels distant, unreal.
My gaze finds Caterina. She’s staring out the window, but her palm hasn’t moved from my chest. Her fingers rest over my pulse like she’s making sure I stay tethered.
Even though we all know I’ll be fine.
We shifted again tonight. Not with a kiss, not with blood, but in the split second I moved without thinking. Pure instinct. No calculation. Just the desperate need to keep her safe.
When she screamed my name, it wasn’t rage or terror. It was something unfinished. Like I meant more than I should. Like I wasn’t just some man caught in her hurricane, but the only one she’d beg not to disappear.
Her fingers twitch against my ribs like she’s trying to hold in what she won’t say.
And all I can think is...I’d do it again.
Not just die for her.
Live for her. Kill for her. Burn down every single thing I’ve built just to keep her safe.
Everything and anything for my little nightmare.
I watch her profile in the passing streetlight, all shadow and silence. She doesn’t speak.
Doesn’t meet my stare.
But she doesn’t let go.
That says everything.
I’d cross every line I swore I’d never cross if it meant keeping her alive.
Tonight gave me a taste of what that looks like.
Not death but the beginning of something far more dangerous.
Obsession masquerading as devotion. Love baptized in blood.
The kind of fall you don’t recover from.