CHAPTER FORTY
TESSA
“Look at me.” Mercy clutches my jaw, waiting for my eyes to focus. “There you are.”
“I’m losing my mind.” My heart rate ratchets higher and higher, fighting to stomp its way out of this hellfire.
I glance around. We’re in a private room.
I’m in a hospital bed, and she’s perched on the edge of it, by my hip.
I have an IV in my arm. At least those barbaric overhead lights are off and there’s a lamp on.
But the fact that I have only a fuzzy recollection of how I got here only enhances the insanity claim.
She dabs my forehead with a cool cloth. “It’s the head wound, and the trauma, and the fact that you haven’t slept in more than twenty-four hours and not much the couple of days before that. You probably haven’t eaten either.”
“I threw up on Jax,” I groan. “That’s worse than Maddox seeing me vomit, and I was barely over that.”
“Jax didn’t care. He actually claimed to like your brand of crazy the best.” She chortles, her adoration for him shining through.
“That makes sense, I suppose. He told me he loved that I was dark lavender once, when I was wearing all black and disgruntled about my family, so …”
“That sounds like him,” she agrees. “He has a unique perspective on everything. He also wanted you to know he has a joint with your name on it.”
Of course he does.
I stare at her, trying to decipher whether she’s coddling me and holding back life-altering information. “I told my family that if Maddox died, they’d be dead to me.”
My admission arrives with a hollowness I can’t mask because I meant it with every cell of my being. And I’m terrified.
She uncaps a water bottle, handing it to me, and waits until I drink to respond.
“You’ve been maintaining a simmer for years, enduring snide comments and judgment with more grace than most people could muster, all while trying to be there for them.
You were bound to boil over eventually, and today was the type of day to provoke it. ”
Taking the water back, she sets it aside and fixes my blanket. She’s fussing over me, nervous I’m going to crack. I might. Well, I suppose I already have.
My lip quivers, so I clamp my teeth onto it and rip off the Band-Aid, asking what I can’t bear to know. “Is he gone?”
“No,” she gasps, pressing her palm to her chest. “Oh, I should’ve said that right away.
I didn’t realize that’s what you’d thought.
” She squeezes my hand, and all the air in my lungs whooshes out.
Her face is empathetic but also twisted, like she’s staring at a ticking bomb.
“He was struggling, but they stabilized him, and they’re dealing with the internal bleeding. ”
That’s plainly sugarcoated. Another scream begins crawling up my esophagus, but I thwart its ascent and challenge her.
“Axel looked—”
“Upset. Terrified,” she cuts me off. “That was a half hour ago. He was back there, getting an update, when things went from bad to worse. He feels terrible that you saw him like that.”
Maddox’s pointed questions and promise from after my migraine flood me.
“Who lets you break? You act so unshakable, and you’re always the one taking care of people. … I can be that for you.”
He was right that I rarely unravel. Maybe that’s why I’m having a veritable breakdown. Axel and I are so different, but in that regard, we’re very similar.
“He shouldn’t feel bad about being sick at the prospect of something … Of course he is. And I don’t want him or any of them trying to be strong for me. I am so sorry that I’m such a mess.”
“Well, the same goes for you, so don’t apologize.” Her shoulders droop with a heavy exhale as she shoves tangible sugar at me in the form of Pixy Stix.
I don’t hesitate, dumping the cherry powder onto my tongue.
She downs one of her own before sobering.
“This is going to sound so screwed up, but Axel is always worried that they’ll fall for someone who won’t love them back.
It’s an old wound from their mom and dad, and he gets really stressed about it.
Even with me and all the history I had with Ryker and their family, he was still cautious.
This really goes for all of them, Ryker, Cash, and Jax included.
They aren’t happy that you’re falling apart, but they are grateful that Maddox has someone who loves him. I mean, I …”
“It’s okay,” I assure her when she stammers on that final sentiment. “I do love him. So much. We really should have seen this coming. He’s always made me fucking crazy, and now I’m certifiable.”
We both laugh through tears, and it feels wrong but necessary. Even though it’s fleeting.
Reality crashes into me seconds later. I killed five people today. I didn’t give it a second thought until now. I really am untethered. I’d murder five more if it meant Maddox survived—five more despicable assholes anyway. That seems to be the extent of my moral compass.
My affliction spills down my cheeks as I look at myself—beat up and bloodstained. “I’m a disaster.”
Mercy gestures to the bathroom and a stack of clothes she must’ve brought for me. “That IV is almost done. I’ll call the nurse. Then we’ll get you cleaned up.”
It’s been twelve hours since Mercy helped me change.
My black dress was soaked through with blood.
The entire thing was so saturated that the material took on a different hue, but wasn’t quite visible within the dark shade.
That must be why my family didn’t freak out about that specifically, but my skin beneath it was stained crimson.
It took quite a bit of vigorous scrubbing to rid it, and all my mind could focus on was whether it was Maddox’s blood or the guy whose throat I slit.
It’s probably better that I didn’t know because I’m not sure I could’ve washed Maddox’s off. Disturbing, I know.
I still haven’t slept. Maddox made it through surgery, though he’s still in critical condition.
He didn’t sustain organ damage from the stab wound.
Somehow, it missed anything vital. I took that as a huge win, in part because I’m certain he would have hated being beaten by a knife. The ultimate betrayal.
It was the gunshot wound that wreaked havoc, collapsing his lung and causing significant internal bleeding. It took a while to get the latter under control, but Dr. Landry and his staff of surgeons for the underworld are optimistic.
They couldn’t retrieve the bullet without risking further damage, so Maddox has a souvenir of our night.
He’ll like that. It will be a little while before he finds out though.
He’s sedated and on a ventilator. I’m in a bedside chair, holding his hand and writing my list. The staccato rhythm of the medical equipment is more soothing than it was when we first arrived.
The whirs and beeps and clacks represent notes of life rather than impending death now, so I can find the harmony in it. Much like his balisong.
Cash struts into the room, his eyes fixated on Maddox before they shift to me.
He checked on him earlier, but we missed each other because he’s been handling Shane Graham’s interrogation with Gage and Liam and I was flirting with insanity.
I haven’t been given details of what methods they employ to acquire their answers, but it’s likely similar to our tactics in the massacre this morning. Or far worse.
He beelines for me, crouching in front of my chair and hauling me against him, his chest trembling as he husks out, “Thank you.”
I’ve never been a hugger, but these Noires have a way of dragging me into their dark and oddly tender web.
So, without dropping Maddox’s hand, I abandon my list, scooch forward, lay my head on Cash’s shoulder, and squeeze him back. Even though he’s thanking me, guilt prickles my skin because I know his heart is only able to beat as long as Maddox’s does, just like mine. “I’m sorry I got him into—”
“Stop,” he demands without releasing me. “He’d be livid if you apologized for letting him come to your rescue. He eats that shit up.”
“Yeah.” I snicker. “I guess he does.”
“And you returned the favor—tenfold,” he adds, chipping off another chunk of my armor that has proven useless with this family.
Jax has been trying to keep the employee festivities going because Maddox would be heartbroken if they were tainted in any way, but Ryker and Axel linger in the doorway, taking in the scene. Both of them are glossy-eyed.
Cash clears his throat and chokes back his heavy emotions. Then he lets go and rises, eyeing my and Maddox’s interwoven fingers. “He’ll have a ring on it within three days of waking up.”
I’ve often thought these men were hard to understand, but maybe my time with Maddox has illuminated the deeper essence of who they are. Right now, Cash is abundantly transparent.
I’d be willing to bet that his reasoning for bringing up the possibility of an engagement is twofold.
It keeps his mind focused on the future, the hope of this all being a dreadful memory we can keep in the past someday, when life is full of blissful experiences.
And he’s wondering what I’d say to a proposal because despite the way he and Maddox prank one another, their bond is unwavering, and he’s protective.
My thoughts on the matter might be the most positive takeaway from this horrific ordeal, the fact that I wouldn’t even bat an eye at pledging a vow of forever to Maddox.
Not because he bound me to it, but because I’m not really me without him.
Because he broke down every wall I had, tied me to a throne, and freed me from my self-imposed chains.
And I want a lifetime to show him what he means to me.
But what undoes me is that hopefulness swimming in Cash’s blues, battling a current of fear that his big brother, his best friend, won’t make it. So, I don’t think Maddox would mind if I gave him a more enjoyable scenario to focus on.