Chapter 24
MACKENZIE
Arhythmic, shrill beeping echoed through my head.
Beep, beep, beep.
The sound echoed harshly off the cold, barren walls.
I slowly forced my eyes open, feeling the gritty grip of a heavy hand clutching mine.
Where was I? I turned my head and saw Max.
He looked... unsettling, somehow. Older, with an unnatural energy flickering beneath his skin, his blue eyes glinting dangerously.
They softened just slightly as he watched me struggle to stay conscious.
My heartbeat pounded deafeningly in my ears as he crouched beside the bed, his hand tightening around mine. "You’re awake. Finally,” he whispered, his hands suddenly cupping my face, fingers tracing through my damp hair.
Dried blood streaked his clothes, darkening his hair, sharpening his features into something menacing. He peppered frantic, lingering kisses over my face, neck, and hair, as if trying to drown me in his madness.
“What… what happened?” My voice came out high and fragile, nothing like my usual tone.
“You were stabbed.” His voice cracked, eyes wide, knuckles white as he gripped my hand. “Right side, near your ribs. I… I thought I’d lost you. They said you were bleeding fast, your blood pressure dropped, and your pulse skyrocketed. You went into shock.”
“What?” I screeched out in a hoarse voice.
He sucked in a shaky breath. “They stabilized you… lost a lot of blood. You scared the hell out of me.”
I tried to move my legs. Hospital sheets scraped harshly against my bare skin. The gown hung awkwardly on my body.
"How... how did I get here?" My voice was trembling.
He glanced nervously at the door, then back at me, a hint of urgency in his eyes. "I brought you here.”
A sudden dread clutched my stomach. We were in a public place. No sign of authority, no FBI, no nothing. What if someone recognized me? What if they knew who I was?
“I can’t be here. I don’t have ID, anything—no birth certificate, no wallet..." My voice cracked.
He shook his head slowly, voice low but steady, almost too calm. “Don’t worry. It’s all been handled.”
"Handled?" I repeated, my heart pounding. "What do you mean by ‘handled?”’
He fidgeted, his hands twisted nervously in his lap.
“I lied a little. West showed up with a stack of forms and this whole ‘federal protection’ script. He got you flagged as a protected witness and rushed some emergency licenses. We signed everything at your bedside and pushed it through. Everything’s done, filed, and sealed. ”
My pulse hammered against my ribs.
“Paperwork? You met Agent West? What the hell are you talking about?” I tried to sit up, but the monitors and IV lines restrained me. My head was throbbing, and I barely registered the pain.
“Don’t,” he snapped sharply, a cold edge sharpening his words that made me shiver. “We’re being watched. You need to stay calm.”
His voice dropped to a trembling whisper, almost a gasp. “I thought I was going to lose you. I had to make sure you were safe. Everything I did, every lie, was to protect you. I’m not sorry for that.”
“Max… tell me,” I croaked, my throat dry and burning.
He swallowed hard, eyes flickering away from mine for a tense moment. “You’re… married. Surprise.”
A wave of nausea churned in my stomach, forcing me to lie back to avoid vomiting all over my sheets. I was married? Tears blurred my vision as disbelief consumed my thoughts.
I blinked rapidly, my heart pounding erratically. “I… what?”
A crooked, guilty smirk curled his lips. “You don’t have to be scared anymore, Trouble,” he whispered, lowering his head slightly. “You can live a normal life.”
Shock ravaged me.
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
He winced, ducking his head as if expecting to take a punch. “Don’t hate me. We had no choice."
"No choice?” My laugh was sharp, hysterical. “You married me off while I was unconscious? Do you even hear yourself?” The monitor beside me screamed as my pulse spiked wildly.
"Calm down," he snapped, glancing toward the nurse’s station. “It’s been about 36 hours. You were out for a day and a half after the surgery. But everything’s fucked right now, and we saw no other way to keep you alive.
And no, I didn’t marry you off to just anyone.
” His eyes bore into mine with an unsettling intensity.
"I married you. We were engaged anyway."
My chest hollowed out. For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. He was serious. He had actually done it. I stared at him, horror twisting my face as I wondered who the fuck this Max really was.
“What the fuck,” I muttered. “What the actual fuck, Max? You can’t do that without my proxy. My mom would’ve never agreed. You need witnesses…”
His hesitation was quick, measured.
“You’re an adult. But your mom’s listed as your medical proxy and emergency contact.
West had her on the phone while you were under.
He sent her the emergency consent forms, you know, power-of-attorney type shit, and she signed.
She said she’d rather know you were legally tied to me than left vulnerable.
Honestly, she didn’t take much convincing.
She said she wants you taken care of, and that I can do that. ”
“You bastard.”
He ran both hands through his hair, words tumbling out like a practiced goddamn liar. “West pulled the strings. He got the emergency license issued, dragged a judge to your hospital room, pushed the certificate through the clerk’s office. He signed as the federal witness on the whole thing.”
“There are laws,” I rattled out. “You can’t just marry someone who’s unconscious. I was incapacitated, eh, that voids consent.”
“Trouble, you don’t need to worry about all the legal crap. West made it all sound airtight.”
Red swirled at the edges of my vision, my chest tightening with a stifled gasp. “You forged my name. You made a decision for me while I was unconscious. Do you have any idea how fucked up that is?”
“I—” Max’s voice cracked, desperation flooding through his tone. “I was trying to protect you.”
“Protect me?” I scoffed, my laugh brittle, trembling with rage and fear. “From who? Jackson?”
“Yes. He tried to kill you. He would have if he could.”
“You don’t get to control me, Max,” I hissed, my voice trembling with rage and fear as I shook my head. “My life’s been stolen from me too many times—by my father, Jackson, and now you. Congrats. You just joined the fucked-up club. I don’t even know you.”
A thick silence descended between us, heavy with unspoken threats. His chest heaved rapidly, while I fought to keep my breath steady, my anger simmering just beneath the surface, ready to boil over.
“You know what, Max?” I whispered. “Since you decided to play God with my life while I was gone, we’re doing this my way from now on."
A rough, humorless laugh escaped him, and I saw a flicker of relief in his eyes.
"You’ll survive, Trouble. You’re mine. Just... let me help you heal first. Then—"
I cut him off abruptly, leaning forward with a tight grip on the edge of the bed as if holding on to life itself. “Did I give you permission to speak?”
For the first time, he hesitated. The corner of his mouth twitched—an unsettling blend of amusement and resignation. He seemed smaller, the fire in his eyes dimmed by a hint of submission.
“We’re doing this my way,” I insisted, voice sharp. “And don’t think this means you can just stroll in and claim me. You earned nothing while I was unconscious.”
His jaw clenched, blue eyes narrowing as they locked onto mine. I noticed the same mixture of fire and restraint that I both feared and relished.
“You chose for me,” I said coldly. “Now I’m taking back everything else. We’re having a real ceremony—my ceremony—on my terms. You’ll earn it, Max. Every part of this is mine to control.”
He swallowed hard, tension radiating from his shoulders, barely concealed. “And if I say no?”
“Then you’re out,” I snapped sharply. “I’m not going to do this half-assed. And I won’t let anyone, especially you, turn my life into some FBI case while I’m trying to recover.”
A flicker of a grin played on his lips. He was accepting the challenge, a masochist to the core. “You’re insane,” he murmured, rough and unrefined, but the spark—full of defiance and hunger—still burned in his eyes.
“Looks like we’re made for each other,” I shot back, smirking. “But I’m your wife now. I set the rules. And I plan to make you pay for every second you decided for me while I was unconscious.”
He groaned, dragging his hands down his face in frustration. He knew it. I had him cornered. “You’re going to kill me,” he muttered.
“You’re mine, McKinnon,” I said, with a cold threat. “And if you cross me again, I’ll cut your throat with a hatchet.”
His eyes flicked to mine, mouth twitching despite himself.
“Better practice that name, sweetheart. You’re Mrs. McKinnon now.”
I leaned back on the bed, looking up at the stale white ceiling, ignoring his cocky smirk.
I was so pissed at him. Furious. A dark, simmering rage bubbled beneath my skin, and all I could think about was tearing him apart. I wanted to wrap my hands around his throat, to squeeze the life out of him, feeling his struggles weaken under my grip.
“We had sex once,” I said, teasing coldly, "and you married me immediately after.”
He shrugged, a crooked, reluctant grin twitching at his lips. “What can I say? It was the best I’ve ever had.”
“The only thing you’re getting for the rest of your pathetic life,” I whispered, “and if you even think about stepping out of line..." I leaned in, voice sharp as a blade, “You’ll wish you hadn’t.”
He swallowed hard, throat working, eyes darkening with fear and something darker.
“Do you understand me?”
"Yes... Yes, ma’am,” he breathed, voice trembling, obedience replacing the earlier bravado.
“Good,” I said, a slow, menacing smile curling at my lips. “Because you belong to me now. Entirely. And don’t even think about arguing."