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Sawyer is to my right, his elbows braced on his knees, fidgeting with his fingers as his gaze remains fixed on the end of my hospital bed. He looks stressed. Hell, they all do, apart from Dalton, who’s directly to my left, his hand clutching mine, two of his fingers stretched out to my wrist, and while most people wouldn’t think anything of it, I know he’s really tracking my pulse, not willing to trust the heart rate monitor beeping through the room.
My eyes flutter, slipping in and out of consciousness, but I push through it as the desire to put the boys at ease thrums through me. My memories may be hazy, but I recall the way they erupted from the shadows. It was as if they’d been there the whole time.
They knew to be there.
They knew Zade was planning to save me, yet each of them let me fall apart in their arms as they sent me to the slaughter. I said my final goodbyes, and they wiped my tears, promising that in another life we’d find each other again. Easton told me to be brave while Dalton put a ring on my finger, making me vow to think of his love in those final moments. And Sawyer? Fuck. He finally found the courage to open his heart and whisper the words I’d been so desperate to hear.
How the hell could they do that knowing what was coming? How could they let me walk into that tomb thinking I was going to die? I laid on the sacrificial altar in chains, and my body shook with fear as I watched each of The Circle members file into the tomb.
I made peace with my death and held onto Zade’s hand as he pressed the tip of the dagger to my chest. I didn’t want to, but I was ready to go, ready for Zade to tear right through my chest and rise as the leader of Empire. But it was all for nothing.
All the fear and pain, all the running. For what?
I swallow hard, anger boiling in my chest as my throat screams in protest, but damn it, I need to get this out now. I feel the fog starting to cloud my mind, pulling me back down into the darkness, and I push through it as my gaze scans the room, taking in each of the frustratingly impossible men before me.
I could say so many things. Tell them I’m alright, how much I love them, or thank them for putting their lives on the line just to save mine, but instead, I hit them right where it hurts.
“How the hell could you do that to me?”
Both Easton and Zade’s heads whip toward me as Sawyer throws himself right out of his seat. Dalton on the other hand just gapes at me, his jaw hanging open.
“You’re awake,” Sawyer rushes out, springing toward me and scooping my other hand into his, clutching on with everything he has. I can almost feel the vibration of his rapid heartbeat as relief surges through his stare and then, all at once, that stare turns hard, anger booming through his salty glare. “How the fuck could you just die in my arms like that? Do you have any fucking idea how that feels? You were supposed to fight, Oakley. But you just gave up.”
I stare at him, my chest heaving as Zade shoves Sawyer away, pushing him back into his seat. “Give her some fucking space,” he says. “It’s not her fault we weren’t good enough to protect her. That’s on us. Not her. We failed her.”
Dalton squeezes my hand, and I turn to look at him, taking in his concerned stare. “How are you feeling? Do you need water or anything? Painkillers?”
Betrayal and hurt settle into my heart, and I look at him as though he’s the perfect stranger. I understand Easton and Sawyer keeping their mouths shut about it, but Dalton . . . now that one stings.
“You let me walk into that tomb thinking I was going to die,” I murmur, pulling my hand free from him. “How could you do that to me?”
“Firefly,” he says, completely deflated as regret shines through those bright blue eyes I love so much. “I’m sorry, but I did what I had to do to protect you. You know if I had any other choice, if there were another way, I would have done it.”
A tear falls down my cheek, and he reaches for me, gently wiping it away as the heaviness fades in and out, my eyelids fluttering. I turn to meet Zade’s haunted stare before continuing to Easton’s, needing to get a read on him, needing to know where he’s gone inside that dark and depraved mind of his.
“I . . .” I start, the heaviness weighing down on me, my eyelids growing heavier as the fog fights for dominance. “I need . . .”
