Chapter 8 #2
Koen hands me over, and Nicholas wraps his arms around me as he sits in the armchair again. It’s awkward at first, but then I bury my face in his chest, and he holds me close, his chin resting on the top of my head. His scent—citrus, bergamot, and a little musk—is surprisingly grounding.
Koen leaves to grab the kit, and Nicholas and I stay there, the silence between us heavy with everything unsaid. His hands are warm on my back, his hold gentle, and even though I know I don’t deserve it, I let myself melt into his touch.
Koen returns with a bowl of warm water and a stack of washcloths.
He kneels next to us, opening the kit Alaric left on the floor and pulling out a bottle of disinfectant.
“All right, Little Thief,” Koen starts. “I need you to lose the shirt, okay? I can’t get to the wound properly with it in the way. ”
I hesitate, my eyes flicking to Nicholas. He looks down at me, his gaze unreadable, but there’s no judgment there. Instead, there’s something in his eyes that almost resembles concern, a warmth that makes the anxiety in my chest loosen a little.
I nod, swallowing hard, and slowly begin to unbutton the uniform, trying not to move my injured arm too much.
Koen steps in to help, his hands careful as he eases the fabric off, mindful not to jostle me.
The shirt sticks slightly where the blood has dried, making me wince, but eventually, it comes free, leaving me in just my bra.
My arm painfully throbs as I try to steady my breath.
Nicholas’s gaze flickers to my scar, and then, without a word, he shifts to reach over to the armrest of the chair next to him, grabbing a blanket that’s draped there. With a tenderness that surprises me, he wraps it around my good shoulder and drapes it over my chest to shield me.
Right, he doesn’t even know that I’m a stripper.
God.
“Thanks,” I whisper, feeling even more guilty if that’s even possible.
Nicholas nods, his arms wrapping around me again, holding me close, while Koen examines the wound.
“It’s a bad graze,” he mutters, glancing up at me. “But I don’t think it’s as bad as we thought. Still, it’s going to hurt when I clean it.”
I bite my lip as Koen dips the washcloth in the water and wrings it out.
The cloth is warm when he presses it to my arm, but the moment it touches the wound, a sharp sting cuts through me, and I hiss in pain, my fingers curling into Nicholas’s shirt instinctively.
He tightens his hold on me, his lips brushing against the top of my head.
“You’ve got this, Sweetness,” he murmurs. “I’m right here.”
Koen shifts beside us, and I catch a glimpse of his eyes flicking up, a flash of surprise crossing his face.
“You’re doing great, Little Thief,” he says softly, focusing back on what he’s doing.
He works quickly, and I try to focus on the rhythm of his touch.
The gentle pressure of Koen’s movements and the warmth of Nicholas’s shoulder against my cheek, his steady heartbeat beneath my ear are soothing. “You’ll be all right.”
I don’t deserve this.
“He all right?” A new voice cuts through the quiet, and I glance up to see Ezra standing in the doorway.
He walks over to Levi on the couch and kneels next to him before brushing a few blond strands of hair away from his forehead.
“He will be.” Koen looks up from my arm, nodding. “Ric says it’s just a shiner, maybe a bit more. He hasn’t woken up yet, but his pulse is steady, and his breathing’s fine.”
Ezra lets out a breath, his shoulders sagging slightly. He doesn’t move, though, his eyes locked on Levi’s face, his fingers still brushing the other man’s hair, and Levi stirs a little at the caress.
“Done.” Koen finishes with my arm, and I let out a shaky breath, my eyes flicking up to meet his. He gives me a small smile, his hand brushing against my cheek. “All cleaned up now.”
A soft groan makes my head snap up. Levi is stirring, his brown eyes slowly blinking open, a confused frown pulling at his brow.
Ezra lets out a breath. “Thank fuck.” His fingers brush over Levi’s temple, tucking a strand of hair away. “You scared the hell out of me, Dove, you know that? I should spank your ass for this.”
Levi blinks up at him, his gaze hazy, and Ezra leans in closer, his thumb rubbing Levi’s arm as if to reassure himself.
Koen moves over, too, kneeling beside the couch, his eyes searching Levi’s face, his own worry clear. “You okay?”
Levi’s lips part. “Just… dumb,” he mumbles, his brow furrowing as if trying to make sense of what’s happening.
“Yeah, well.” Ezra’s eyes soften, and he huffs out a breath, half relief, half exasperation. “You’re lucky we’re here to cover for your dumb ass.”
“Dove?” Koen asks, edged with anxiety. “I need more words. You okay?”
Levi blinks a few times, his eyes focusing on Koen, then Ezra. He tries to sit up, wincing slightly. Ezra’s hands come to his back, supporting him. “I’m fine,” Levi mutters roughly. He lets out a long sigh, his gaze flicking between Koen and Ezra. “It was just… dumb.”
Ezra gets up and grabs a glass of water from the table and a bottle of pain meds from the kit Alaric left.
He returns to the couch, hands Levi the water, and presses two pills into his palm.
Then he sits beside him and pulls him in close, his arm protectively wrapping around his shoulders as Levi takes the pills and leans into him.
“What happened?” Ezra asks, but Levi shakes his head, his eyes closing for a moment.
“I’ll tell you in a minute,” he mumbles, sounding exhausted. He lets his head fall against Ezra’s shoulder, and Ezra holds him close, his fingers brushing over Levi’s skin.
I can’t believe nobody else seems to notice how much Ezra’s in love with Levi.
It’s so painfully obvious to me, the way his gaze never strays far from Levi’s face, the way his touch is so careful, so tender. And yet, everyone else seems completely oblivious.
My heart still feels hollow when I think of Ace, even while here in Nicholas’s arms. I can’t shake the image of him, his face twisted in pain.
He thought he killed me like I thought I killed him.
We went through the same pain, but while I want nothing more than to hold him the way Ezra is holding Levi, he doesn’t even want to be near me.
The emptiness yawns wider, and the tears are welling again.
Ezra’s eyes lift, finding mine. His gaze drops to my arm, and then he looks back at me. “Care to tell me what happened with you?”
“Depends.” I force a small smile, noting how his cheekbone is a little red. “Am I a wanted person now?”
“No,” Ezra huffs. “I didn’t report it, but apparently, Veronica hasn’t either. Yet.” He sighs, his fingers brushing against Levi’s arm absently. “But I don’t know what to make of it.”
“Good,” Koen mutters from where he’s crouched beside the couch. He runs a hand through his hair, his shoulders sagging. “I can’t… I can’t deal with anything else right now.”
Ezra glances over at him, frowning. “What’s going on?”
There’s a long silence, all eyes falling on me, waiting. I want to tell them to leave it alone. To keep it all buried deep inside like I always do. It’s easier that way. Less painful.
But I’ve carried this weight alone for so long—eight years of grief, guilt, and loneliness.
And now, seeing Ace again, alive... it’s ripped everything open.
I’m too raw, my thoughts are spinning, and all the exhaustion I’ve fought against is finally giving in.
The effort it takes to keep everything locked away feels like too much.
Maybe that’s why, for once, I decide to let it out.
I look around the room from Ezra to Koen, whose face is etched with worry.
Nicholas, holding me tightly in his arms, his touch steady even though I know he’s hurting too.
And then there’s Levi, watching with those wide, curious eyes.
There’s something about this moment—about the way they’re all here, waiting—that makes me realize I’m not alone anymore.
They’re not leaving.
They’re still here, even though I’m a mess.
Even though I’m broken.
Maybe they deserve to know.
I let out a shaky sigh, closing my eyes for a moment and taking a deep breath. My gaze drifts to Ezra, then to the floor, where the black suitcase that Ace brought still lies abandoned.
And then I just say it.
I tell them about Rosalee, Ace, and the night everything fell apart.
How we made a stupid, reckless decision that cost me everything.
How my twin, my other half, was gone, and how I lost Ace too.
How I thought I had killed them both. How I ended up here, in Vegas, trying to run away from a past I could never escape.
And how, for eight years, I believed I was alone, carrying all the guilt, all the pain, trying to drown it in alcohol, strangers, being a stripper, and anything that made me forget for a little while.
And now, how I found out that Ace—Alaric—has been alive all this time. Standing right in front of me, thinking I was someone else. Thinking I was gone, the same way I thought he was.
I don’t know how long I speak for. I don’t even know if I make sense.
It all spills out in a tangled mess of emotions, the words tumbling over each other, and by the time I finish, I feel completely drained, nothing left inside me.
But as my voice fades and my gaze moves toward the door Ace disappeared through, all I can feel is the weight of everything I’ve already lost.
And the gut-wrenching fear that maybe I’ve already lost him all over again.