Chapter 21 Nyx #2
I ask the one question that's been lurking in the back of my mind, never letting me forget. “Why did you leave, Lev?” My voice is barely above a whisper. The silence thick and heavy between us, as he too searches my eyes. It makes me wonder what he sees within them. How soulless I've become since? My eyes were more colorful once, before he was gone. The light in them faded a long time ago. Then again, the world itself felt more vibrant when he was in it. For the past four years, it’s been dulled. Empty. “I had to, Brodie.” It’s all he gives me, and it’s not enough. He knows it.
“I’m not taking that as an answer. I might have four years ago, but not now.
Not ever.” Something shifts in his expression.
He realizes he can’t sway me the way he once did.
His exhale comes out slow, and deep, as if pulling breath from the very core of himself, gearing up to finally tell me the truth.
“It took two years for Graves to try and catch up with me at the base, two years to manipulate the evidence your mother had.
He worked hard. Making sure he covered his tracks and removed anything that wouldn't make sense to be blamed on me.” He adjusts his position so he's fully facing me, as I comfort myself by sliding the material of the pillow between my fingers.
“That last mission, I didn't know that was going to be the last time I saw you.” I force down a swallow of emotion threatening to travel up my throat.
“Graves had planned for Volokov to capture me, deliver me to him.
So he could find out what I knew and where the files were.
But he'd gotten greedy, enjoying the thrust of power he had stepping in as Acting General before James took over when your mother passed. Volokov went off him. He was going rogue from their agreed plans, and it cost Volokov big time.”
“So when Volokov got me on the field,” his eyes break our stare as he looks at my scarred wrist. “He made me an offer.” My body goes rigid, wondering what the hell could be so big that he'd give up everything he ever knew, to be erased from the world.
“He asked me to help bring Graves down, but in return, I couldn't bring Volokov down.
Had to let him continue with his plans. Said he'd be able to help me prove my innocence.” I stare at him, not liking where this is going, my skin feels icy with each word he speaks.
“But that wasn't the only offer.” His eyes finally find mine again, the turbulence intensifying, like he's not sure whether to tell me the rest.
“Tell me, Lev. Please.” He bites back a silent curse as he looks at his hands for a long moment, then lifts them back to me, “He knew that alone wouldn’t be enough for me…
Not until he mentioned you.” The hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention, unease crawling up my spine “Me? I don't understand.” he leans forward with his hands clasped together, dangling them between his legs, he’s no longer facing me as his sights are fixed on the open space.
“Graves had plans for you. He was going to arrange for Volokov's men to kidnap you, put you through hell.
Make it nationwide news that the deceased General's daughter had been kidnapped by terrorists whilst out on a deployment, allowing him to be involved in political negotiation talks on the national level.
Swoop in and rescue you as a certain route to the highest fucking award the military has ever offered.
He'd make history books, riddled by his guilt for not being able to save the mother, but able to make it in time for the daughter.
He said he'd make sure you were so fucked up after it, they'd have no choice but to let you go, not fit enough to serve anymore due to the trauma.” His jaw clenches so tightly, the muscles in his throat flex.
I can't get my lungs to work, and my throat feels like there's a vice gripping it. I’m focused on Noc’s side profile, waiting for him to say he’s exaggerating.
He’s got to be. Graves can't be that unhinged.
“I thought he wanted to use me as a weapon? The video of my mom-” he cuts in as he finally gives in to look at me.
“Not as a weapon, Brodie. His weapon. His final checkmate.
With an award like that, there's absolutely no doubt he’d get a fifth star, the highest-ranking officer in the armed forces.
There's only been five in our whole history, and the last was in World War II. And with the upcoming war Volokov wants to try to kick off, Graves has been pulling the strings on it in the background, getting all his knights in a row for years.” My limbs start to vibrate.
With rage. With disgust. With a little bit of fear.
There's not much in this world that scares me, but to learn that a man you've known for over ten years, who you relied upon for guidance, who was there as a support when my mother died, had such sinister, ulterior motives is horrifying.
The thoughts churn in my mind, making my stomach twist. “How did Volokov know about me?” I clear my throat, my voice is laced with the acidic taste that’s trying to force its way up my throat. “Graves told me at the hotel the first time I saw you, that he knew about us, that we were obvious.”
That makes Noc’s jaw tighten as he huffs a laugh. “Graves had been watching me all that time, every move I made. He'd been there. He'd seen us training, seen the hushed conversations we had. He'd also seen me every time I went into your quarters.”
I visibly shiver at the thought of Graves watching us both so intrusively this whole time, I don’t even want to ask anything more of that, it's enough to unsettle me for a lifetime.
“He'd also let it slip when he asked Volokov to get me.
How it all wove together. Graves knew I wouldn't talk if he captured me, but once they told me about what they'd do to you, that was his leverage for me to give up everything to him.
Whether I did or not, it wasn't going to stop him going ahead with his plan. With me out of the picture, no one would have been able to protect you.”
He shuffles on the bed to take my hands in his, his grip tight enough to stop my mind drifting to a dark place.
“I never meant to hurt you Brodie, ever. I thought I was doing the best for you. If I could work with Volokov, it meant I could keep an eye on him and work to bring Graves down, get the threat away from you. When I found out he was the commander of your unit, we got Hawk in there as soon as we could. He would keep an eye on you both and protect you. It doesn’t excuse a thing I did or make some of the shit I've done right.” His throat bobs, like it's trying to clear the emotion of his words.
“That night when you came into the club, I knew immediately it was you with the way you walked, the way you held yourself.
Even with the fucking wig. The grace of an exotic feline, strolling through the lion's den on her own without an ounce of fear of the men who eyed her.” I look down at our joined hands, zoning in on the inked ones I've committed to memory, knowing the exact outlining of each design, the way they rise over the muscular veins in his tendons all the way up his forearms, clutching onto me like if he lets go, I'll disappear.
“I wanted nothing more to take you in my arms and get the fuck out of there, but I couldn't, I had to push you away.
I couldn't risk you getting close, especially with Graves sniffing around, he'd have acted out.
And with his relationship becoming more strained with Volokov over the last few weeks, I wouldn't have been able to predict what he'd do.” My watery eyes drag up him, taking in the rest of his tatted skin, settling on his neck before moving up to his eyes.
“I love you Brodie. I always did. You were in the forefront of my mind. Every. Single. Day. How I never got the chance to tell you. And I’m so fucking sorry I left you.
That I did what I thought was right to protect you, I wish it wasn't how it had to be.”
My tears lose their battle with my eyes, one after the other, they roll down my cheeks, Noc becoming a blurry image before me as his words keep repeating themselves in my mind.
I squeeze his hands, my voice thick with emotion as I try not to let the sob break my words.
“I love you Noc, I never stopped. Even when I had a gun to your head,” I choke a laugh through the tears.
“I couldn't pull the trigger. I wouldn't have been able to live with myself if I did, even if I'd never known the truth.”
His shoulders slump, tension finally uncoiling after holding him rigid throughout our entire conversation.
For over five years, all these words have remained buried, unspoken.
I never thought I’d get the chance to hear them, never thought I’d get the chance for this.
And every time I remember how close I came to killing him, a bone-chilling dread sinks into me, deep and unforgiving.
I move across the bed, straddling him as my arms wrap tight around his neck.
His hands find my waist, pulling me in with a force that feels like something between desperation and relief.
A violent breath shudders out of him, blowing my hair back, and I hold on.
Pressing myself into him as if we can erase the time lost between us.
We clutch each other as though survival depends on it, bodies locked and unwilling to move, except for the slow, steady rhythm as he rocks me back and forth.
My silent tears slip onto his shoulder, soaking into the fabric between us.
I don’t know how long we stay like this, lost in the moment.
All I know is - I don’t want to let him go.
This embrace feels like an apology for all the years stolen.