Chapter Twenty
Max
I only leave her side to work on camera and motion sensor installation, grab my laptop, or order food. Now that I have her back, I’m loathe to part with her, to even imagine leaving her.
When her eyes start fluttering close to her twenty-first hour of being unconscious, my heart feels like it soars, and relief fills me until I’m brimming with it. I shift closer to her on the bed like an eager puppy waiting for its owner to awaken.
I feel ridiculous and completely out of my depths, yet also… I feel profoundly right. Ember’s been the missing piece of my life’s puzzle for far too long. It doesn’t matter if she ever remembers me or not; I’m making her mine either way.
Is it selfish? Sure. Cruel? Compared to Dagon, no. Socially acceptable? By no means, but neither of us have lived socially acceptable lives during our separation.
Ember’s hands restlessly shift around the mattress.
I tuck a few strands of hair behind her ear, rubbing the backs of my fingers against her cheeks in hopes to wake her the hell up.
I want to see her eyes, I want to see her lively, even if that means trying to kill me.
Anything would be better than the catatonic state she’s been in for the last day.
A slight groan escapes her lips. Her eyes crack open, blinking sleepily, and one of her hands rises. For a second, I think it’s to push me off, but then her hand touches her neck. Her brows furrow, and anxiety flashes through her slitted gaze.
“My necklace,” she mumbles. “Where’s my necklace?”
Shock knocks the breath out of me.
Her necklace?
As in, the constellation necklace I gave her, one that she absolutely refused to part with? The one she would touch and fiddle with every time I came to visit her during college?
Holy fuck, does she remember me?
“Flame?” my voice is far more uncertain than it should be.
God, please let her remember me. Please. Please fucking let her remember me so that she can start trusting me again, so that she’ll tell me what Dagon has on her, so that she stares up at me with the adoring gaze that used to inflate my ego until I thought I’d burst.
Her expression smooths. Her hand drops, and her eyes fully open. When they land on me, they immediately grow jaded, but there’s confusion there, too. Did she have a memory of me return? Did she dream of me?
“Flame, what were you dreaming about?”
Her gaze shutters. “Good morning to you too, Maximus. I slept well, thanks so much for asking—”
My hand wraps around her throat. I don’t apply any pressure, but I need her attention right now. “Flame, do you remember me?”
“Of course. You kidnapped me, drugged me, and most infuriatingly, you refuse to die.”
“Ember,” I repeat, a bit louder. I’m dangerously close to losing my temper. “What were you dreaming about?”
“I don’t remember.”
Fucking liar. I can see the flickers of confusion in her gaze—she remembered the necklace, our necklace. I don’t know if that means she remembered me, but…
“Try not to give me a reason to punish you when you’ve just woken up, Flame. I need to feed you and bathe you before you start accruing punishments.”
Her jaw tightens. “Fuck you.”
I’m almost relieved to see that my sassy, take-no-shit girl is back. I’ve missed her. “Soon, Flame. What necklace? Answer honestly, for the sake of your pussy and ass.”
Defeat flashes through her eyes, and it only makes my irritation rise. “Talk.”
“I only remember a silver chain,” she says begrudgingly. “A constellation and diamonds. That’s all.”
I search her expression for any signs of deceit but come up empty. I think she’s being truthful, but nevertheless, a warm wash of hope heats my blood.
She remembered the necklace I gave her. That means she could start remembering other things about me, too. Maybe spending time with me is starting to jog her memories.
“Alright,” I say. “Shower, then I believe it’s time to give you a grand tour of the Nighthawk’s fortress, starting out with lunch in the dining room.” I grin. “You’ll love it.”
Taking Ember to the dining hall might’ve been a premature move.
I realize this as soon as we walk into the room, and slowly, every conversation dies out.
I’m not sure if it’s because she’s a girl, or because people have heard of her callsign.
Scarlett had a similar effect on the room when she first came down here, so I hope it’s the former, because the latter might mean trouble.
In either case, I don’t appreciate the dozens of male gazes glued to her.
The dining hall is the same cavern of stone and timber I’ve walked through a thousand times, but I don’t miss how Ember’s eyes flit over the space, careful and analytical.
High ceilings stretch overhead, held up by thick pillars that disappear into the dim rafters.
Windows along the far wall catch daylight that mixes with the warm, muted glow from the overhead fixtures.
The combination softens the severity of the room.
Metal roundtables fill the space in a layout that looks chaotic to an untrained eye, but really, the seating arrangements are unit-based and methodical. I scan the room out of habit, noting who’s here, who’s missing, who’s sitting where they shouldn’t be.
I steer Ember towards my usual table, with Greyson and his unit. I have my own units to look after, but I’m not as close with those guys as I am with Greyson and his crew. My men are just soldiers; him and his are actually friends.
Scarlett’s at the table, seated on Greyson’s lap. She watches Ember with a jaded sense of curiosity, and when Greyson murmurs something in her ear, she nods.
“Try not to start any fights or stir any shit,” I whisper to Ember. Then, I address the room. “Don’t you all have something better to do than gawk?” My voice is commanding, and it has the desired effect. Conversation slowly resumes.
I weave between the tables until we’re at my usual one. There are two empty chairs around the circular table, so I seat Ember at one, drag the other closer to hers, and also take a seat.
“You’re brave,” Greyson comments offhandedly. “Bringing her here so soon. Scar only tried to kill me once, and I took my damn time introducing her to the guys.”
He’s right; this is a risky move, but I think it’s better to get it out of the way sooner rather than later. “Thanks for the comment. In the future, keep inside thoughts to yourself.” I turn to Ember. “These dickbags are my friends.”
One of her perfect eyebrows arch. “You have the capacity for making friends?”
Elijah snorts. “I like her.”
I’m sure he does. Ember’s fucking fantastic. Still… “Keep your liking to yourself.” She’s mine to like.
This level of possessiveness is a whole new ballgame for me. I was always protective of Ember, but now… I don’t even like the thought of another man looking at her, let alone admiring her. Not to be a juvenile prick about it, but I licked her, so she’s mine.
“Possessive motherfucker,” Grey mutters.
Scarlett takes the opportunity to interject. “Hi, I’m Scarlett.”
“I know,” Ember replies, gazing at her with vague interest. “Have you been Stockholm Syndromed, or is he forcing you to sit on his lap?”
All the color drains from Scarlett’s face, and she shrinks back into Greyson, who looks at Ember with murder in his eyes.
“The fuck did you just say to my girl?” he growls.
Shit. I place a hand on Ember’s knee, giving her a warning squeeze.
She ignores me and shrugs. “I just asked a question coming from genuine curiosity.”
“Keep your questions to yourself,” he snaps.
“It’s alright,” Scarlett says quietly, straightening. “I haven’t been Stockholm Syndromed, and Greyson isn’t forcing me to sit here. I’m choosing to.”
Ember gazes at her dubiously. “Uh-huh.”
The short answer seems to get Scarlett’s back up. I want to intervene, carry Ember out of here and try again in another day or ten, but I force myself to remain still. This ought to happen sooner or later.
“I am,” Scarlett insists, frowning. “I love him.”
Ember inclines her head. “If you say so.”
Now, Scarlett’s getting angry. “I do!”
“Enough,” I cut in. “Ember, stop being mean. Scarlett, we’re well aware you love Greyson.”
“Is it true that you’re Viper?” Toby interjects, thank fuck.
Ember’s gaze swings over to him. “Yup.”
His eyes darken, and warning skitters up my spine. “Viper killed my cousin.”
Shitshitshit. She’s also killed multiple Nighthawks; things I should’ve considered more thoroughly before bringing her down here.
This appears to interest Ember. She tilts her head to the side, appraising him. “Did I?”
“If you are who you say you are.”
“Huh.” She nods. “Alright, then.”
Toby’s hands slam on the table. “Are you gonna fucking apologize?”
“Toby,” I warn.
“For following orders?” Ember asks, yawning. “No. I did what I had to do to survive. If your cousin got caught up in the mix, that was his fault, not mine.”
“He was innocent,” Toby hisses.
Ember laughs. “Then I didn’t kill him. I only kill two types of people; those who cross and piss off Dagon—usually by fucking with his business or trying to assassinate him—and those who try to rape or kill me. If I killed your cousin, he fell into one of those categories.”
Toby’s cheeks heat with anger. I gaze up at the ceiling, shaking my head with a sigh. I should’ve known this wouldn’t be simple. “He’s not a rapist or a killer. He was a smuggler working for Eric.”
“Who?” Ember asks, frowning.
“The guy who sent him after your boss.” Toby’s eyes blaze. “He was just following orders, too.”
Ember shrugs. “Then I guess he was taking orders from the wrong guy.”
“I want her punished,” Toby addresses me. “She killed my cousin and has no remorse.”
Fuck. “Do any of us apologize to the families of our marks? No. The past is in the past. Ember’s loyalties have changed. Holding what she had to do against her is plain stupid. I’m sorry for your loss, Toby, but you’re barking up the wrong tree.”
Ember turns to look at me. “Since when did my loyalties change?”
“Since I fucking said so.”