Chapter 31
Eventually, we reach the infirmary. Xavier holds the door for me, his hand briefly touching the small of my back as I pass. That simple contact sends a shiver down my spine, a silent reminder of the physical connection I share with him. One that’s continually drawing us closer.
Whether or not I want it to.
Inside, the clinical smell of antiseptics fills the air, bringing me back to reality. Recalling my memories of the time I spent here. The skin around my closed wound pulses, adding to my unease at being in this place.
As though on cue, the nurse that attended me during my stay walks up to us. “Recruit.” Then he looks at me. “Bride.”
The way he talks to us has me assuming he’s a crow, and part of the Kent family who has their hands deep in the body of the medical field and all of its networks. After a quick glance, this guy could pass for Declan’s cousin.
“I’m here for bloodwork,” Xavier says. “How long is this going to take?”
“The results from the tests won’t be available for a couple days. We have to send them to the nearest hospital since we don’t have a full diagnostics lab here.” The nurse gestures toward a hallway, where the first door leads to a lab station. “Follow me.”
“Excuse me.” My voice has both men looking at me, one with surprise, the other with irritation. “Do you know which room Ben—erm, the McKenzie heir is recovering in?”
Xavier’s expression shifts minutely, a hint of emotion turning them metallic. The nurse’s annoyance swells, his demeanor guarded. Then he looks to Xavier.
“Will you allow this, recruit?”
A moment of hesitation, then, “Yes.”
“Fine, but you’re responsible for her actions,” the nurse says.
Xavier nods. “Give her the information, crow.”
“Room 204, just down the corridor to your left,” he says, pointing in the direction and then turning away to lead Xavier to the lab.
Before either of them can change their minds, I head toward Ben’s room. Once I’m out of their line of sight, I wrap my arms around myself, a futile attempt to quell the nervous energy bubbling inside me. Thoughts of Ben swirl in my mind, mixing with images of last night: Xavier and him struggling, fighting against the poison. Relief that Xavier survived mingles with a gnawing guilt for being so grateful while Ben was lying in a hospital bed, all alone. It tugs at my loyalty, pulls at the seams of my emotions, leaving me feeling torn and frayed.
I shake my head slightly, trying to erase the disquieting thoughts. Now isn’t the time for such reflections. I need to be there for Ben, to show him the same support I gave Xavier. But as I step into Ben’s room, greeting him with a smile that feels both genuine and guilty, part of my heart remains in the hallway with Xavier.
“Hey there,” I say with a small wave.
Ben sits up in his bed. The surprise on his face is quickly replaced with joy. “Hey, Lilah.” His voice is weak but welcoming, his demeanor hesitant but hopeful.
I close the door behind me. The room has equipment with monitors that beep softly, displaying vital signs of his condition. Beside the bed, a small nightstand holds a pitcher of water and a glass, and there’s also a chair.
I make my way to Ben’s bedside, taking in his appearance, noting every detail. His skin is pale, with a sickly shade of yellow to it. There are dark circles under his eyes from more than mere exhaustion, and his hair is oily, coated in sweat from his time in the dungeon.
He reaches for my hand and squeezes. The simple gesture, so familiar, sends a wave of comfort through me, momentarily easing the guilt churning in my stomach.
I gently squeeze his hand in return, forcing some lightheartedness into my voice. “How are you feeling?”
His smile broadens, a spark of his usual humor flickering in his tired eyes. “Much better than this morning, thanks. The doctors here don’t mess around. Looks like I’ll live to annoy you another day.”
He chuckles softly, the sound a bit raspy but reassuring. I frown at the way he struggles to breathe afterward.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks. He tugs me closer until I sit on bed, my hand still in his. “You look upset.”
“I know you said that you’re okay, but you don’t seem like it.”
Ben exhales and leans back on the pillow. “To be honest, I feel like shit. But I guess almost dying will do that to you. I was taken to the infirmary right after the evaluators affirmed that I had taken the right antidote. Regardless, my organs were slightly fucked.”
When I gasp and my eyes widen, Ben grips my hand tighter. “Don’t worry, Lilah. I might be a bastard, but since I’m the only living heir to the McKenzie line, they’re doing everything to keep me alive.”
“How long until you’re back on your feet?” I ask.
“The doctor is optimistic. He says I should be out of here in a few days.” With a wink at me, he continues, “And back to annoying you full-time in a couple of weeks.”
“Can’t wait.”
My smile wobbles on my face, and the tears I’ve held back over the past twelve hours stream down my cheeks. Ben’s eyes widen with alarm before he’s pulling me into his arms and making soothing noises.
“You could’ve died,” I say between sobs. “You still could during the next Trial.”
“Hey, hey,” Ben murmurs, his voice steady and calming as he gently rubs my back. “I’m not going anywhere, Lilah. I promise you, I’m going to fight like hell to stick around.”
I try to compose myself, wiping the tears from my face, but they keep coming. The reality of how close I came to losing him, the constant threat hanging over us hits me hard in this moment.
Ben keeps his arms around me, offering silent support as I struggle with my emotions. His presence, so solid and reassuring, helps ground me despite the whirl of fear and dread inside me.
“You have to be careful,” I manage to say, my voice still shaky. “Promise me you’ll be more careful in the next Trial.”
Ben’s expression turns serious, the usual playfulness fading into the background. “I promise, Delilah. I’ll do everything I can to stay safe. Not just for me, but for you.”
“You swear?”
“Always.”
“Always,” I whisper.
The word lingers in the air, charged with a promise… but it strikes differently coming from Ben compared to when Xavier says it. With Ben it feels like a sturdy reassurance, the kind a brother would give his sister, full of camaraderie and familial love. But when Xavier says it, there’s a depth, a resonance that pulls at something within me, stirring emotions that are interwoven with romantic longing and profound connection.
Despite him being an asshole. Scratch that, a psychotic asshole.
The memory of his behavior toward Ben during the Trial rises to the forefront of my mind. Ben’s arms tighten around me when my body stiffens.
“What is it?” he asks quietly. “Did X do something to you?”
I pull back and sit up. “I’m mad about what he did to you.”
“Me?” When I nod, Ben wrinkles his forehead, his confusion evident. “He hasn’t done anything to me. Well, not lately anyway.”
“You were dying, and he started talking shit to you,” I hiss, keeping my voice low. “That was a dick move.”
Ben’s eyes light up with understanding. “It wasn’t what you think. I understand how it looked that way.”
His voice is so low I can barely hear him, but he still looks around as if someone could have entered the room without detection.
Maybe the Order’s listening.
Xavier is certainly suspicious. When I recall how they drugged the drinks at the ball, I can see why.
“Come here,” Ben says. He pulls me to him, cuddling me against his chest, his lips right beside my ear. “X was trying to give me a clue without making it obvious to the leaders watching.”
“What?”
“Shh, Lilah. Just listen.” Miraculously, his voice gets even quieter. “X figured out the antidote before I did, and he was trying to give me a hint.”
My irritation with Xavier begins to melt away as understanding dawns. “So the middle finger, the nose tap... that was his way of telling you?” I ask, my voice a mixture of disbelief and admiration.
Ben nods, his chin rubbing my head. “Exactly. He was trying to communicate that without anyone noticing. If someone caught on that he was helping me, it would’ve disqualified both of us, which is a death sentence. This isn’t the first time he’s saved my life.”
I take a moment to process this. Xavier’s actions, which had seemed so harsh and out of character at the moment, were actually a desperate attempt to communicate under the strict rules of the Trial. To keep Ben alive.
Why? Because they’re brothers-in-arms? Or did Xavier do that for me, knowing how much I love my foster brother?
“I... I didn’t realize,” I whisper. “From where I was standing, it just looked like he was being a raging, hemorrhoidal asshole.”
Ben laughs. “He is that, but deep down… he’s an assassin with a conscience.”
“I didn’t think that existed.”
“Me either, but I have to believe they do, or I’ll have lost whatever humanity I have left.”
We lapse into silence, and I find myself reassessing everything I assumed about Xavier. My feelings for him are tangled with both intense affection and frustration. His actions during the Trial had initially seemed cruel, a side of him I hadn’t seen before and didn’t understand.
Now, knowing the truth erases the anger that settled in my heart. His behavior was a necessary tactic and a reminder of the lengths he might go to, the sharp edges of his character shaped by the ruthless demands of the Order.
“After the Trials, will it get any easier for you?” I ask Ben.
“No, I don’t think it will. Once we’re crows, we’ll take on new responsibilities, not just within the Order but under the mantle of running our family’s empire. It’s the burden of our newfound rank. However, I hope I’ll learn to carry the added weight. In life, you have to find reasons to keep going, reasons that make all the sacrifices worthwhile.”
“What keeps you going?”
For a moment, Ben is silent. “You. That’s enough for me.”
His confession hangs between us, suspended in the air, held by raw emotion and longing. The vulnerability in his voice is something I’ve never heard before, at least not to this degree. It’s a confession that should be touching, but it has a knot of discomfort tightening in my stomach, making me ill.
I gently dislodge myself from his embrace to create a measure of space between us. Ben’s gaze searches mine, looking for a response, a reciprocation of feeling. The affection shining in his eyes comforts me, but the hope inside their depths pains me, knowing I don’t return his feelings.
I’ll never admit it, but Xavier was right: my foster brother is in love with me.
Whatever he sees on my face has a flicker of hurt passing over his features. “Ben,” I say, taking his hand in mine and softening my voice, “I care about you, deeply. You’re incredibly important to me and have been since the day we met. But I don’t love you in that way.”
His face hardens slightly, a protective veneer slipping into place. “The way you love X?”
“I don’t love him.”
I’m falling in love with him. It’s a difference, but not one Ben will understand. Sometimes I don’t know if I do either, or if it’s a fine line I’m dancing on to keep from admitting my vulnerability.
His eyes narrow with accusation, his gaze pinning me in place as he searches for the truth in my statement. “I know you care for him, but X isn’t just some college frat boy. He’s been in this game for a long time, and his entire life has been about serving the secret society. He might sacrifice anything, or anyone, for the sake of the Order. Remember that.”
The implication of his words sends a shiver down my spine, but I resist the urge to accept them at face value. “And what about you?” I challenge, my voice steady despite the turmoil brewing inside me. “You’re also a part of this world. By that logic, you’d do the same thing, right?”
Ben’s face hardens, a flicker of hurt flashing through his eyes before he covers it with a resolute expression. “It’s different. I would never give you up, whether or not you were mine. I believe there’s always a choice.”
Hadn’t I said the same thing to Xavier after he threw the knife at me?
“It was the first Trial,” he says. “I had no choice.”
“There’s always a choice.”
“Not one I was willing to make.”
I didn’t understand it at the time, but now I know Xavier was willing to do whatever it took to save my life, even if that meant putting it at risk. Finally, I can clearly see the man behind the mask—My recruit, the man who put me first. Not the Order.
“I appreciate your concern, Ben. I really do. But it doesn’t change anything between us.” The words are difficult to say, each one a tiny echo of the pain I see reflected back at me in my brother’s eyes. “Please understand.”
“I do,” he says, though the hurt in his voice betrays the simplicity of this acknowledgment. There’s also a stiffness in his posture that wasn’t there before, a physical shield going up as he processes my words.
I reach out, lightly touching his arm, and he flinches. It wounds me. “I’m so sorry. I never meant to lead you on or to hurt you. I value what we have—your friendship and your trust. It means the world to me.”
He nods slowly, his eyes not quite meeting mine. “I understand, Delilah, and I appreciate your honesty. Let’s just forget I said anything, okay?” he asks, his voice steady but cool.
I nod, too overwhelmed with emotion to speak. Sorrow mixes with relief. Guilt mixes with finality. I know I did the right thing, but it leaves a bittersweet ache behind. Ben deserves someone who can love him as more than a brother, someone who looks at him as if he’s the only man in the world.
I can only pray that this moment doesn’t ruin our relationship. I don’t know how to live without a part of my family.