Chapter 59
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Hevan
After exhaling deeply, I slam the book shut and groan at the disservice I feel from the author choosing to kill off the main character. “Bastard,” I grumble, gathering my empty glass, and head into the kitchen.
My house is small but quaint, and I actually love it. It’s taken me a while to settle, purely based on the fact that the man I love is no longer a part of my life, and truth be told, I don’t think he ever will be again.
Still, I’m grateful for his sacrifice; it took me months to appreciate it, but whatever he chose to do, gave me the freedom I have today, and it’s enabled me to live the life of my choosing in a sense of security I never felt in Azrael’s home, only his arms.
I rinse the glass under the tap, and as I twist it in the water, my gaze catches onto the tattoo Azrael branded me with, and suddenly, I find it difficult to breathe all over again.
How can he have this hold on me still? The effect the man has left on my body and soul is indescribable. It’s like I’m bound to him.
The sound of a phone buzzing forces the hairs on the back of my neck to stand, and an overwhelming urge to vomit unleashes, but I push it back and rush to the drawer where I keep the burner phone Owen gave me almost two years ago.
I only charge it once a week now, and not once have I ever had any contact with him via it, nor have I seen him since the day he left me here with a new identity and bank account, wishing me well for my future.
Then he left, closing the door on my old life while leaving me in limbo with my new one. I’m Hevan Conley now.
My hand trembles as I lift it and open the message.
Unknown: Turn on the television. Channel 3.
My heart thuds, and I rush into the living room and turn on the TV. Then I search the room for the remote, my entire body shaking with anxiety.
Turning on the TV, I go to the right channel. A news reporter is on the screen, and the remnants of a burned-down property are in the background. I scan the screen, searching for what it is I’m meant to be witnessing.
“Benito Carrera, known to be head of the Carrera Mafia family, has been confirmed as one of the many dead inside the rubble of the mansion …” The monster’s face flashes up on the screen, and I rear back, my heart hammering.
“… that was last week embroiled in accusations of human trafficking, in what is now thought to have been an arson attack.” My heart seizes in my chest. It’s him, I’m sure of it.
He did it.
He ended the devastation and cruelty of others.
He ended him.
“It has thrown open what has now become an FBI investigation into some of the most elite of society. Based on information, children have been located that were due to be transported to the mansion. They are now in a safe house thanks to the disclosure from an individual from inside the group.”
Oh, sweet Jesus.
I snap my hand out to grip the couch as my entire body floats.
He saved them.
He became the savior in a world full of death and depravity. He showed me who he is, he showed them too.
“Among others confirmed dead at the scene is his oldest son, Azrael Carrera.” My lungs no longer function; the air from them is stolen as I blink at the television screen.
Oh God, no.
Please no.
I dart my eyes around the room, then focus on the television again.
Why can’t I feel it? That he’s gone.
Why does his presence remain?
He asked me to love him in his next life. Is this what he meant? Had he planned this all along?
A stab of pain perforates my frozen state, and a choked sob erupts up my throat, and I let out an almighty wail that has me falling to my knees.
I was certain he’d do it. I knew it, but in my heart, I hoped he wouldn’t break me further.
For months, I’ve lived in hopes of a moment he would return to me, willed him to succeed, to be the man I knew he was capable of becoming, to be the Azrael I know and love.
I may have been living my life with freedom, but I’ve barely existed without him.
He stole a part of me, and I never want it back.
I was holding out hope, waiting for him to reclaim it.
But the fact of the matter is, I’m never going to sense his touch again, breathe in his scent. I’m never going to feel him. He’s gone. I’ll never be complete.
Tears flow down my face; the pain in my heart is excruciating, worse than ever before.
“Please, no.” I clutch at my chest. “Please. Don’t do this to me.”
I don’t know how long I sob in a heap on the floor, the image of Azrael on the television screen playing on repeat, but when I stand, my legs turn to Jell-O, and I’m suddenly desperate to see his face all over the television again.
This may be the only image I’m able to see of him.
I flip through the channels like a woman possessed, desperate to find the plus-one channel, but I’m so lost in my grief I’m detached from my surroundings.
“Am I worthy now?” a familiar voice croaks.
My eyes snap up to the television, but it’s a random shopping channel.
“Am I worthy of you now, Hevan?” The voice sounds again. Am I so lost in my grief I’ve conjured him into existence?
I spin, then drop the remote.
What the hell?
I blink.
Once.
Twice.
He chuckles.
His hair is cut shorter, with a curl to it, his face littered in scrapes, his arm is in some sort of sling across his chest, and he’s never looked so handsome.
He sports a white T-shirt and jeans I’ve never witnessed him wearing before now. Fucking jeans!
I blink.
“You’re adorable when you’re stunned, Little Toy.
” I close my eyes to the sound of his nickname, the stabbing sensation in my chest too difficult to bear.
But then I snap my eyes open in a panic, and when he steps forward into my space, I’m powerless to respond.
“Has anyone ever told you that?” His hand strokes over my cheek, and I whimper at his loving touch.
“Azrael?” I swallow past the ball of emotions lodged in my throat.
A smile plays on his lips. “I’m here.”
“Are you dead?” I whisper, and he laughs a deep, rumbling laugh that shocks me as much as his appearance.
“Azrael Carrera is most definitely dead, but Aaron Conley is alive and well.” He lifts my hand and grazes his finger over my tattoo, and I gape down at his hand, my initials on his finger too.
“You chose our new names.” He had to have done for them to be the same as the tattoo.
“I did,” he confirms with a soft smile. “Can I kiss you now?” he says, dragging his finger over my lip.
“Are you staying?” I utter, my heart pounding furiously, and my legs threaten to buckle with the intensity of the situation. He’s alive.
“For a lifetime and thereafter.” He says it with a confidence I welcome throughout my body.
His lips press gently against mine, as if seeking entry, and I moan when our tongues caress one another’s. This isn’t just a kiss; this is a homecoming.
I wrap my hands around his neck to tug on the short strands of his hair, and he groans against me, pushing his hard length into my groin.
“I missed you so much,” he says, pulling back and panting heavily.
He rests his forehead against mine, and I’m grateful for it. I need to see his eyes, to fall into them, knowing he’s here to catch me.
“I thought you were dead.” I hiccup, and he brushes my hair from my cheek in a tender touch.
“I’m sorry about that. I needed my enemies to know I was gone for good, and I got waylaid on my way back to you.” He lifts his arm up in the sling. “I was supposed to be here before the news broadcast went live.”
I glance down at his arm. “What happened?”
“Just a burn. I had to call on your old doctor friend.”
“Jessica? Is she okay? You let her live?”
“She’s fine.” He rolls his eyes. “She patched me up, and then I came here.”
“How did you get out?” I point toward the TV. “They said you were dead.”
“There was only the footage of me going in and not coming out. I left enough DNA in the room for them to suspect me dying alongside him, and I now have close allies who have a coroner on their books to confirm it.”
“B-but how did you get out?”
He drops onto the couch and rubs his head.
“Some crazy ass named Finn O’Connell, he drops from the ceiling on a fucking wire and gets me out.
I was like the phoenix rising from the ashes my entire arm in flames, but it was worth it.
I’d die a thousand deaths to be everything I’ve always wanted to be, here with you. ”
My mouth falls open, and he tugs on my sweater to haul me between his legs. “Are you going to take me to bed now? I don’t like you in clothes.” His lip twitches, and I melt.
“I’ve missed you, mia luce,” he whispers, and the weight of his words floods me.
I hold out my hand, and he takes it. I guide him up the small staircase. “Where is the rest of the house?” he asks, and I stop walking and look over my shoulder as he glances around the small space. “This is the guesthouse, right?”
I snort and shake my head. “I gave Owen fifty million to help you settle in, Hevan. This is …” His mouth opens and closes. “Unacceptable.” I smile at his sincerity.
We move again, and when we get to the top of the stairs, he bumps into my back. “Where’s the landing?”
“This is it, Azrael.”
“Aaron,” he chastises with a laugh, then presses a kiss on the back of my head. “Show me the way to our box room, then.”
I stop us at the last door of the three doors, then I take a deep breath.
“It’s okay. Truly, I don’t care how small it is. I’ll buy us a bigger one.” I hear the smile in his voice.
Slowly, I push open the door and creep inside, tightening my hold on his hand as I guide him into the bedroom, then I stop at the crib.
“Hav—”
I turn to face him. His eyes widen, and his face falls.
“She’s your daughter, Azrael.”
He coughs. “How?” He searches my eyes before slicing them straight back down to our little girl. “I ordered Jessica to give you a shot after we—”
“After the last time we had sex, I knew. She told me.”
“I didn’t want you to go through all of that again,” he admits on a swallow.
“I was still pregnant. Even though I lost a lot of blood, Jessica insisted on me doing a test before she gave me the shot, and it came back positive. She said I needed a scan to confirm. I waited until I moved here. I didn’t want to risk anyone finding out.”
“Fuck, Hevan,” he rasps, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. Then his eyes latch onto our daughter and rest there, and he steps forward, his hands grip her crib tightly. “I-I don’t know how to be a father, Hevan.” There’s panic in his tone, and I’m eager to reassure him.
I wrap my arms around his middle and lay my head against his back. “I’ll teach you.”
He strokes her thick, dark hair. “She has my hair.” The tenderness and emotion in his voice cause tears to slide down my face.
“She does.”
“What’s her name?”
“Lucie.” It means light in Italian, and of course he knows this.
He swallows, and I cling to him tighter. “Thank you,” he croaks.
“She gave me you, Azrael. Your nonna and your mother, they gave me you.”
He brings my hand to his lips and places a tender kiss on my fingers. “I promise you both I’ll love you with everything I have. Protect you both, always.”
“I know you will.”
Slowly, he leans over the crib and strokes a finger down her cheek. “You own me already, little one.” He turns with me in his arms, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look so at peace.
“Show me to your room. I need to remind you who you belong to because I’m pretty sure you forgot.” He tugs on my sweater again playfully.
I roll my eyes. “Says the man in a T-shirt and jeans.”
He follows behind me, then grabs at my ass, making me squeal in delight.
“I’m going to spend all night reminding you,” he promises.