Page 69 of North’s Claim

“She already does.”

Iron’s voice cuts in from behind me. “About time you grew a pair, Prez.”

“Go fuck yourself,” I shoot back, but there’s no heat in it. My brothers laugh, the sound sharp and full of the kind of loyalty you can’t buy or fake.

I tuck the cut under my arm, swing my leg over my bike, and gun the engine.

By the time I pull into the hospital lot, it’s pitch black. My body aches like I’ve been run over twice but it doesn’t matter. There’s only one thing I need to see. Her.

The sliding doors hiss open, flooding me with too-bright light. Nurses glance up, I ignore them. My boots thud against the tile, echoing in the sterile quiet of the night.

Her floor is still, the air too clean, too cold. I pass a few rooms without looking in, because I know if I see anyone else on a bed, I’ll think of her.

When I reach her door, I stop.

It’s cracked open just enough for me to catch the steady beep of a heart monitor.

I push it open.

There she is.

The monitor’s beeping keeps time with the pounding in my chest, proof that she’s still here. Yesterday they took out the oxygen tube saying she’s breathing normally.

I drag the chair closer and drop into it, elbows on my knees, my head hanging. “You stubborn, reckless little shit,” I rasp. “I should be pissed. Should tell you that you’re never pulling that crap again. But your words… they’re stuck in my head, and I can’t get them out.”

My hand finds hers. She’s warm. Alive. My thumb brushes over her knuckles, careful of the bandages.

“I love you, Firefly.” I lay my head on the edge of the bed, and before I can stop it, a tear slips free. I don’t know how long I stay like that. Time stops meaning anything.

Then the soft pressure happens.

Her fingers closes around mine.

My head snaps up. Her eyes are half-open, glassy but aware, a weak, lopsided smile tugging at her mouth.

“Don’t…” My voice cracks, and I don’t care. “Don’t ever do that again.”

Her lips part. “You… you’re…worth dying for.”

I press my forehead to hers, breathing her in like I’ve been drowning. “Then I guess we’re both fucked,” I whisper. “’Cause you’re worth living for.”

The doctor and nurses rush in and since they need to check her up I’ve been asked to leave. Like I never saw that beauty all naked already. I could map every inch of her body. I’ve been pacing like a caged animal for what seems hours, the leather folded over my arm. My brothers think I’m waiting for the right moment. Truth is, I’m trying not to fuck it up.

Iron’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching me like he knows exactly what’s about to happen. Soul’s beside him, smirking, and Colt’s got a fifty tucked between his fingers.

“She’s gonna throw that cut right back at him,” Soul mutters.

Iron shakes his head. “Nah. She’s gonna cry first, then throw something.”

“Fifty says she keeps it.”

“Deal.” Tornado nods.

I push the door open after the doctor leaves before I say something that costs me money.

She’s sitting up, the thin blanket pulled over her lap. Her hair’s messy, bandages stark against her skin, but her eyes are locked on me like she’s already bracing for whatever trouble I’m about to bring.

“You gonna wear a hole in the floor?” she asks, voice still scratchy but carrying that bite I know too well.