36. I Saved You
“ I thought you were a demon, you know,” I grit out, my voice rough from smoke.
Sol snorts. “You’re not that far off. My wife calls me her démon de la musique , after all.”
“Fitting,” I cough.
I don’t mention how hallucinating my mom ushering me into the afterlife then transforming into the man I thought hated me might be one of the top five most traumatic things that’s ever happened to me.
The fact that he carried me out of the fire, got me to the getaway car, saving me, and now I’m in my own bed with Luna sound asleep in my arms?
Nothing short of a miracle from the devil himself, and I ain’t about to look that gift horse in the mouth.
Especially if he’s more apocalypse than pony.
“You were stalling too, weren’t you? When you argued with Bossie before my brothers showed up?
” I clear my throat and take a swig from the water bottle on my bedside table, trying to wash the metallic taste of blood off my tongue.
“All of it was a tactic. You and Nox were waiting until they could get there.”
Sol nods. “About five minutes in, I realized playing Bossie’s game would be the only way to keep everyone breathing.
” He sighs. “Luna’s probably going to hate me for the things I said, at least for a little while.
She’ll understand, though. She knows I’d sooner cut my own arm off than be strong-armed into a truce.
Of course, all that was before Luna tried to sacrifice herself. ”
He grumbles the last with a mix of anger and disappointment that only a father can master. A combination my brothers and I know all too well.
Then Sol has the audacity to cut me a glare, as if the whole thing was my fault.
I lift my hand. “Hey, don’t look at me like I’m not also mad as hell at your reckless daughter. She and I are having words.” I look down at the little hellion resting in my arms, and my voice softens as I stroke her back. “Later, obviously.”
Luna’s long lashes fan across her pale cheeks, bags under her eyes and remnants of soot I couldn’t scrub clean before she drifted off on my chest. Her even breaths flutter over my bare skin, and I cherish each one.
She’s alive. With me. Right where she’s supposed to be.
Her father gazes at her, leaning forward in his wooden chair, elbows on his knees and hands steepled between them.
“I wouldn’t have expected anything less. She’s a Bordeaux through and through, but her ability to think on her feet is unmatched. I trusted she’d come up with a plan or figure out mine and Nox’s. Either way, stalling seemed like the best stopgap.”
“Nice.” I smile weakly.
He grunts his agreement and reaches for her like he might brush her hair back, but I shift her away, hooking my hand behind her knee and pulling her closer, ricocheting pain through my bones.
Our local vet provided a makeshift boot cast for Luna until she can go to a real doctor. It’s meant for a calf but heavier than it looks, doing a number on my bruised shin fractures.
“She’s sleeping ,” I hiss. As soon as her meds kicked in, she passed out from a bone-weary exhaustion that’s all my fault. I’ll be damned if anyone wakes her after the week she’s had.
“Jesus Christ, you’re almost as bad as I am,” Sol mutters. I barely register his griping as I focus on breathing out the agony pulsing in my veins.
King Fury kin don’t use heavy pain pills if we can help it.
Addiction runs in our bloodline, and those types of drugs are already pushed too hard around these parts, leaving more devastation than healing.
We stick to over-the-counter as long as we can, although at the moment they’re just not quite cutting it.
But I don’t care. I’ll endure this pain every day if it means Luna’s safe.
“You’re alive,” King’s voice arrives before he does. “That’s good.”
My father’s deep rumble fits him perfectly, unlike his larger-than-life presence in this cozy room, which now feels suddenly cramped as Dash and Hatch file in behind him.
Other than our father’s thick beard and thirty years, we all look nearly identical, our Fury genes strong.
With their massive frames combined with mine and Sol’s, my room has all the makings of a clown car inside a fun house.
My brothers have already checked on me, but this is the first appearance from dear ol’ dad.
Even Grandma Fancy called this morning, taking time out from visiting our family on the coast to see how I was doing.
She’s eager to meet Luna when she comes back next week, and I can’t wait either.
They’ll be two peas in a pod, both spitfires who take no shit.
Hatch plops into a corner chair, black hair, scars, and his rose tattoo shielded by his backward ball cap, and sprawls out like he doesn’t have a care in the world.
But his usual feral grin has flattened into the tight-lipped smirk that always signals he’s stressed, and his eyes keep flicking to his phone, jaw tightening each time it apparently disappoints him.
I’ve only seen him like this a few times, the first after Momma died. Now, if I had to guess, he’s worried about two things. His future wife. And Dash.
Over the years, Hatch and I have been the ruthless ones, happily doing the dirty work so Dash could have a shot at something better. I think we wanted med school for him—hell, any future beyond this feud—more than he did.
But everything he’s done since New Orleans has given him a taste of the brutality Hatch and I have lived for years.
I can see it in his hollowed cheeks and the darkness around his eyes that it’s haunting him like it did us, before we got numb to it.
He stares off, unseeing. Probably plotting.
Knowing Dash, Brylie’s presence in New Orleans won’t last long before he pulls the same shit I did.
Father’s as stoic as ever. His salt-and-pepper hair and beard add to his wise, regal air.
Those shrewd eyes appraise me, no doubt finding me lacking.
All the kindness Momma ever brought out of him died with her.
He’d never say it, but he’s always blamed me for my mom’s death.
That guilt is one of the many reasons I’ve been hell-bent on being the first to make good on this pact, protecting all our families. Every other reason is Luna.
“How are you feeling, son?”
I swallow past the dryness in my throat. “Just peachy.”
He nods, then turns on Sol, all business.
“Clearly, you see the importance of joining our side.”
“No. We’re not doing this now,” I hiss, my eyes darting to the only innocent one in all this.
Sol’s tone gentles. “Don’t worry, she won’t wake up. When she’s asleep ”—he emphasizes the word, honoring Luna’s privacy —“she stays that way for hours. We’ll fill her in after she’s rested.”
Luna texted her psychiatrist on the way home to check if it was safe to take her medicine. When the doc gave the go-ahead, Luna took it right there in the car. Poor thing’s been basically out like a light ever since.
I nod to Sol, then settle in and resume my light finger strokes down her back. I still glare daggers at my father for not having the decency to wait, but I don’t interrupt.
“You should’ve called me,” King narrows his eyes at Sol, serious expression so like Dash—with a beard—I almost double take.
Sol scoffs. “I trust you even less than your boys, King. Why the fuck would I call you?”
My father scowls but straightens. “In any case, the Wildes have gone after Luna as I suspected they would. We need to discuss next steps for the Troisgarde daughters.”
“You mean ex -pected,” Sol sneers. “You set my daughter up for the slaughter by insisting your legacy live on through strong alliances.”
“It’s not about legacy,” King counters harshly.
“You may question my motives, but never question my wife’s.
We wanted our children to have a chance at what we had, something a Wilde target on their back would never allow without the blood of three and power of many behind them.
” His chin raises proudly, meeting Sol’s height.
“You don’t know my sons, but I do. This isn’t about legacy for them either.
Their Fury blood has already chosen who they belong to. ”
The words rest in the air. Dash stands taller where he leans by the door, Hatch sits straighter, and my hands flex over Luna, closing over her shoulder, all of us in silent agreement. The explanation apparently resonates with Sol too, his gaze darting over us with curious interest.
King clears his throat, a glimpse of the man he used to be gone in the matter of a heartbeat.
“Without the threat of the Troisgarde backing us, Bossie and other Wilde kin will try the same stunt again, or worse. It’s only logical to seal the Bordeaux part of the truce now. Luna must marry Orion?—”
“I’m not making her marry me.”
“Oh?” my father’s brow lifts at me, his expression hard.
Sol’s jaw drops, “Are you kidding me? After everything you’ve put my daughter through?—”
“Shh,” I cut them off as she stirs, then lower my voice. “Look, I get it. But it took me making all the wrong decisions to realize they should’ve been hers to make all along.”
Sol grumbles, “And if she makes the ‘wrong decision’? At least, according to you?”
“I’ll wait for her.” I shrug. “You heard King. She’s it for me. I know how she feels too. But no matter what she decides, I’ll still protect her.”
“That’s sweet,” King says dryly, the man who would’ve preached that same sentiment six years ago nowhere in sight. “But feelings are irrelevant now. Solomon, you’ve seen what my boys can do. They came in to save you?—”
“From a mess your family created,” Sol says. “This is your war.”