Chapter 23
Hayden
“As Long As You Love Me- Justin Bieber”
The second her text comes through, nothing else matters. Not the Dungeon. Not the money sitting half counted on my desk. Not Braxton screaming at some idiot fighter. Just her.
Firefly:
I almost died tonight and all I wanted was you.
My entire chest caves in reading it. Then the second text hits. “Please come hold me before I completely fall apart.”
I’m already moving before my brain catches up.
“Where the fuck are you going?” Braxton yells after me as I shove past him toward the back exit.
“Busy.”
“Hayden we’re literally in the middle of—”
The door slams behind me before he finishes. The ride to the warehouse is pure insanity. I blow through lights. Cut between traffic. Almost wipe out twice because my head keeps replaying those words. I almost died tonight.
Something ugly twists inside my ribs every time I think about it because if something happened to Ophelia… No. I can’t even fucking think it.
Then I walk into the warehouse and see her. Beautiful. Devastatingly beautiful. My Firefly.
Bruised. Bloody. Shaking. And Jesus Christ. The sight hits me like a punch straight to the chest. Rage and worry collide so hard inside me I almost lose my damn mind.
Who touched her? Who hurt her? Who do I need to kill?
I don’t care what this means. I just need to touch her.
But then she looks at me and runs straight into my arms.
The impact nearly knocks the air from my lungs while her arms wrap tightly around my neck.
And fuck. I close my eyes immediately because this is what home feels like.
I hold her against me just as tight while burying my face in her hair.
Coconut and sea salt. My Firefly. She buries herself against my chest, sobbing.
Her body trembles in my hold and for a long moment neither of us moves.
We just stand here holding onto each other like the world might rip us apart again if we loosen our grip even slightly.
“Hey,” I whisper roughly into her hair. “Hey, Firefly… I got you.”
She clings harder instead, and fuck—I don’t want to let her go again. Not after this. Not after almost losing her without even knowing it.
Finally, I pull back enough to look at her.
“You okay?” I ask, cupping her face. Her lips split slightly.
Bruises already darkening beneath her eyes.
Dirt and dried blood streaking her skin.
I know it's a stupid question. She obviously isn’t but she nods anyway.
Liar. I brush my thumb beneath her eyes, gently catching leftover tears there.
Then bring it to my mouth, sucking the liquid away.
Her eyes widen and blow with lust as I take a deep breath.
“What happened?”
“Drug run went bad,” Bianca answers quietly nearby. “Stone got shot.”
My jaw tightens instantly as my eyes snap to Ophelia’s. Drug run? What the fuck?
Rage flashes hot beneath my skin.
“Get your stuff,” I tell her, and she blinks.
“What?”
“You're coming with me,” I growl while Bianca watches us carefully from nearby before giving Ophelia’s hand a squeeze. “Text me tomorrow.”
Tomorrow. The word feels dangerous. Hopeful. She smiles at me, but I stop and grab her, pulling her into my arms and hugging her. She hiccups as I pull back and look at her.
“Let me take care of her, then you and I will talk. I always promised Jus to take care of you too, B,” I whisper, then place a kiss on her cheek.
“I know, Hayden. I know. Now fix my girl then come see me,” she says, kissing me back. I smirk then guide Ophelia outside towards my bike. I hand her my helmet and help her put it on but she swats my hand away, making me laugh.
“Did you hit your head? You know damn well I ride.” She laughs, and I slap her visor shut. She punches me in the gut and I fake a grunt, then climb on the bike as she scoots behind me. The second her arms wrap around my waist, my chest aches so badly I nearly can’t start the damn engine.
The ride to Daggerspoint is quiet, but every now and then, I feel her helmet press lightly between my shoulder blades like she’s making sure I’m real. And honestly? I get it.
We pull up to my apartment and I kill the engine. She climbs off and takes off my helmet, handing it to me. I get off and we walk up the stairs in silence. Why am I so nervous? It’s Ophelia. The girl I dream about at night. There is nothing to be nervous about.
We walk inside, and suddenly, my apartment feels too small, too rough around the edges for a girl like her.
But, she looks around softly like she doesn’t care about any of it.
Like she’d sleep in a cardboard box if it meant breathing the same air as me again.
God. The thought of that alone nearly undoes me.
“This is where you live?” she asks.
“Yeah.” I shrug. “Not exactly the Ritz.”
Her eyes drift towards me. “I like it.”
I laugh. “You’re a terrible liar,” I say, and a tiny smile pulls at her mouth. Fragile. Tired but real. Worth everything though. And Christ, I missed that smile. Just seeing her standing here feels dangerously close to domestic. A future I probably shouldn’t want as badly as I do.
“Sit down,” I murmur, and she lowers herself carefully onto the couch while I grab the first aid kit from the bathroom. When I return, she watches me silently. Those big blue eyes completely wrecked. “Get undressed.” I say as her breath catches. Not from fear but something warmer—more dangerous.
“Hayden…”
“I need to check you for bruising,” I say, kneeling in front of her. “Make sure you don’t have internal bleeding.”
She studies me for a long second before finally nodding.
Slowly, she peels off her hoodie. Then her shirt. And fuck me, my pulse immediately turns traitorous. Not because I haven’t seen her body before. I have. Many times. But three years without touching her has turned every inch of her into torture.
The bruises ruin the moment fast though. Dark marks bloom across her ribs and shoulder. Her hip is already turning purple. Rage coils low in my stomach as I brush my fingertips lightly across one bruise making her hiss softly.
“Jesus Christ.”
“I’m okay.”
“No, you’re not,” I say, and she rolls her eyes slightly.
“I’ve dealt with worse.”
That answer guts me more than it should.
I start cleaning the cut near her lip carefully while she watches me.
“You shouldn’t be doing this shit,” I mutter darkly, causing her expression to harden.
“Doing what?”
“Running drugs with Spade’s crew.”
“They’re my friends.”
“They’re dangerous.”
“So are you.”
Fair. Still doesn’t stop me from being pissed. “You could’ve died tonight.”
“So could you every damn day at the Dungeon,” she fires back, and I look up sharply. She leans closer slightly.
“This life…” Her voice softens. “It’s the only thing that got me through losing you.”
Those words make my chest tighten, because she says it so honestly. No games. No manipulation. Just grief. Raw and bleeding between us.
“I thought you were dead, Hayden.”
Fuck! I close my eyes briefly.
“You don’t know what that did to me.” Her voice cracks.
“The races—the warehouse—Reid… all of it was the only time I stopped feeling empty,” she says as silence stretches heavily between us.
Then she reaches for me, cupping my face, forcing me to look at her.
“Will you finally tell me what happened?”
The question hangs there. Dangerous and Heavy. I stare at her bruised face for a long moment before shaking my head slightly.
“Not tonight.” I deadpan as pain flickers briefly across her face. “Tonight isn’t about the past,” I say. “It’s about right now.”
And right now? She’s sitting half naked in my apartment looking at me like she still loves me enough to ruin herself over it. I don’t think I can survive much more of this as the silence stretches between us for a long moment. Heavy. Not awkward—just full of too much history. Too much pain.
Her breathing turns uneven when I move closer.
“So what now?” she whispers, and I cup her face gently.
“Now?” My thumb brushes softly beneath her eye. “Now I take care of my girl.”
The words crack something open between us completely. She kisses me first. And holy fucking hell. It’s nothing like before. Not soft teenage kisses beneath the stars. Not hesitant longing.
This kiss is desperate. Starving. Three years of grief and rage and missing each other crashing together all at once.
She climbs into my lap while my hands grip her waist hard enough to leave marks.
I know I should be gentle but fuck! I've been a starved man and I can’t take it anymore.
I moan into the kiss, deepening it as my fingers glide up her back and curl into her hair.
Her mouth tastes like home. Home. God. I missed her so fucking much.
She kisses me like she’s terrified I’ll disappear again. Like she’s trying to memorize me with her mouth before the world steals me away, and I lose every remaining ounce of control.
“Firefly…” I groan against her lips as her fingers tangle in my hair while she presses herself closer.
“Please don’t stop,” she moans.
I shouldn’t want her this badly after everything, but I do. I always will.
I kiss down her throat slowly while she shivers against me. Every soft sound she makes goes right to my dick.
“Still so responsive for me,” I growl against her skin.