Chapter 55 Reaper
Reaper
The room was quiet, just the hum of the old lamp and the distant thrum of laughter down the hall. She was beside me, her head on my chest, her breath warm against my skin. For the first time in too damn long, I felt still.
Lucy was not a shadow in the background anymore, a reminder of everything I’d lost. Instead, she was there, close enough that I could count the freckles on her cheek, close enough that every rise and fall of her chest felt like proof I hadn’t failed completely.
I watched her breathe, the tiny catch in her throat when she shifted against me. Fierce and vulnerable, fire wrapped in steel. That was the Lucy I’d been yearning for, even when I wouldn’t admit it.
I pulled her closer, letting her weight settle against me. My body ached from every bruise and scar, but with her pressed into me, it felt worth it.
“Every time I look at you, I’m waiting for the world to take you from me,” I admitted, my voice low, rough. The words scraped out like I’d been holding them in for years.
Her fingers curled around mine, soft but sure. God help me, she trusted me enough to lie here, to let me hold her like I was something steady in her storm.
“I hated you once,” she whispered, her voice breaking in the quiet. “But now, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
I’d taken bullets, broken bones, but nothing levelled me like that confession.
I brushed a lock of hair from her face, my thumb grazing her cheek. “You’re in my blood,” I murmured, raw and certain. “And there’s no walking away from that. You’re the only thing I’d burn the whole world down to keep.”
Her eyes fluttered closed, and her breath feathered over my skin. Right then, she was mine, and I’d be damned if anything—club, Fangs, ghosts of the past—took her away from me.
I traced light patterns across her arm, memorizing every line of her skin. The warmth of her seeped into me, quieting the chaos, grounding me in a way nothing else ever had.
Her lips brushed my collarbone in a soft, almost accidental kiss, and my grip tightened. She smiled against me, a small curve of her lips, but it sparked something fierce and dangerous in my chest.
Her breath steadied, soft against my chest. I pressed a kiss to the top of her head, closing my eyes for a moment. “Sleep,” I murmured, though my hand kept moving along her back, unwilling to let her go.
Her eyelids fluttered, fighting the pull, as if she wanted to hold onto this moment as much as I did. I tucked her closer.
“You’re mine,” I whispered again. “All of you. Always.”
A soft sigh escaped her, part relief, part surrender. She melted into me, and I rested my forehead against hers, letting our breaths fall in sync.
“Don’t worry,” I said, more to myself than her, “I’ve got you.”
Her fingers tightened around mine, and for the first time since Caleb died, I didn’t feel like I was holding on to ghosts. Now, I was holding her.
Sleep came for me, slow and heavy, but I held her tighter, a silent vow echoing through the dark. She was mine, and I wasn’t letting go.