Chapter 28 - Elena
My body doesn’t understand yet that it’s over. That Orlando is dead, and I don’t have to worry about the Grimaldis anymore.
Even as the words move through my head, my hands are still shaking as Wyatt holds me closer than ever before, solid and unyielding. He feels like a barrier against everything that almost happened, and no part of me wants to pull away from that.
The wind still blows around us on the rooftop, carrying noise and movement from the others while they work, but it’s quieter now without the helicopter.
I don’t commit my focus to the action happening around us, since none of it matters more than this moment.
Than having Wyatt here, embracing me like his life depends on it.
“You’re safe,” he says, murmuring in that low, rough tone, as if he’s grounding himself as much as me. “I promise.”
Through the subtle daze lingering in my head, I nod. I still don’t feel like we’re entirely out of the woods yet, given how my nerves continue to buzz with adrenaline, and how Orlando’s grin lingers in the back of my mind while he and his sons talked about my ownership like it was inevitable.
Something in me hates that this is my life, and how men like them are much closer than you’d think. I hate that violence keeps finding me, no matter how carefully my brothers have tried to shield me from it. How Wyatt has tried to do the same.
But as his hand slides up my back, a firm and protective weight against my spine, relief hits me so hard that I have no choice but to clutch him back.
It may seem like weakness, but I know it isn’t. After everything, I need this.
For a long moment, I don’t care about the mess or the blood now that the danger has been neutralized. I don’t care that Orlando’s sons are out there somewhere, capable of who knows what.
All I care about is that Wyatt came, and he didn’t hesitate.
In the heat of the moment, he looked at me and gave the very command that saved my life. Either one of us could’ve been hurt in the process, but he trusted his gut, and he protected me.
I’m not one to condone killing, but without someone like Orlando roaming the streets, I believe the city will be a little safer because of it.
When I pull back just enough to look at him, Wyatt’s jaw tightens, and his dark eyes scan me like he’s cataloging every inch of me for potential injuries. His hand moves to my face, gentle despite the tension coiled within him, and I soften.
“Are you alright?” He asks, more like he won’t believe it unless he hears the words straight from me.
“I am…I think,” I answer, voice sounding rougher than usual as I swallow hard. “Other than the sedative, they didn’t hurt me.”
At the mention of being rendered unconscious by them, anger flashes in his gaze, but he tempers it. His shoulders sag enough to be noticeable, and his forehead drops to mine briefly, like a silent moment of both gratitude and apology.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs quietly, both vulnerable and remorseful.
At the words, something flickers in me, and I lightly push at his chest just enough to make him look at me again. “You better be. I didn’t ask for any of this.”
“I know.”
The words leave him simply, not seeing any reason in denying it.
“I’m still furious,” I add, even if everything else outweighs it. ”I’m tired of being used as leverage, and keep getting dragged into conflicts I didn’t even start.”
“As you should be,” Wyatt says, lacking any defensiveness while he continues to hold me, eyes soft with regret.
At his expression, knowing he’s being genuine, I falter and swallow hard. “But I’m…relieved at the same time. It’s annoying.”
Wyatt’s lips just barely pull at my tone, then he pulls me back in without arguing, letting a hand cradle the back of my head. “I know.”
Eventually, with some resignation, he pulls me up from the ground, bracing me through the slight shake still in my legs.
I catch the sound of approaching footsteps from behind me.
“Elena,” Roman says, cutting through the moment.
Turning in Wyatt’s arms, I see my brothers approaching with their usual composure splintered just enough to betray their worry. Even Nikolai, who isn’t one for showing much emotion.
Roman reaches for me first as the grip around me loosens, and he cups my cheek, looking me over like Wyatt did. His eyes are sharp with a faint crease between his brows. “Are you hurt?”
I shake my head. “I’m okay. Promise.”
His jaw clenches while relief and rage fight for their place in his features. Without hesitation, he pulls me in for a brief, yet fierce hug. His hand rests on top of my head, just like he used to when I was younger.
“I should’ve trusted my gut…I should’ve been harsher on both of you.”
Despite myself, I can’t suppress a quiet laugh at that. “I have the feeling that wouldn’t have done a thing.”
He scoffs, but there’s no heat in it as he lets the embrace linger a moment longer. “Figures.”
With his protective nature sated enough for now, Roman eventually lets me go, allowing Mikhail and the others to check in. They’re quieter but no less intense, making sure I’m still put together. I answer their questions automatically, well aware of their need to know everything.
As Ivan puts a warm hand against the back of my head, giving me the faintest of teasing ruffles, my attention focuses back to Wyatt, making sure he’s within view as Patch briefly talks to him.
And as observant as ever, Roman follows my line of sight, watching him for a long, deliberate stretch, as if coming to a silent conclusion. Then, he exhales and catches his attention.
“Take her home,” he says to Wyatt, not merely a suggestion. “She shouldn’t be here any longer than she has to be.”
Not needing to be convinced, Wyatt nods. “I will.”
For a beat, a new understanding grows there. While tense and fragile yet, it’s still real, and that seems like a decent place to start.
Eventually, we’re escorted off the rooftop, and Wyatt’s arm doesn’t move from around me. His jacket drapes over my shoulders, smelling like smoke, and as much as I want to ask why, I’m too tired to press. With the threat gone, true exhaustion settles inside me, making every limb heavier than usual.
I focus on the gentle brush of his thumb against my back all the while, grateful once we get inside the car, only for the doors to close and cut off the noise and cold. Finally, I release a heavy breath and allow myself to soak in the peace of it.
The city blurs past the windows as he drives, keeping a steady hand on my knee all the while. His presence is constant and warm next to me, even while neither of us speaks.
With my head tipped back, leaning against the headrest, I close my eyes and let the drive pass, feeling his eyes on me every so often.
I don’t open them again until Wyatt pulls into his usual spot, parks, then kills the engine. Even then, he doesn’t say anything for a beat, letting silence linger.
Finally, he glances at me, and his voice comes out quieter than usual. “You scared me.”
“Then we’re even,” I say, allowing just enough amusement to slide into my tone, hoping for levity after everything.
Wyatt’s mouth pulls slightly, but the smile soon turns a little more serious. He lifts his hand from my knee and carefully reaches for mine. “I meant it before…I won’t let anyone take you from me.”
It isn’t the first time he’s said it, yet the statement soaks in differently now. Rather than a threat or some kind of primal possession, it feels like a promise.
“This doesn’t end here. You know that,” I murmur, feeling a tug within my heart. “There’s always going to be something. More rivals, more fallout, more worry.”
“I know,” he admits without letting it crush him.
I turn to face him fully, allowing myself to be as open as possible. “And I’m not going to pretend I’m not angry or scared, or that this is what I wanted for myself.”
I can tell the words sting a little, but he doesn’t resist them. His jaw tightens, and he nods. “I don’t expect you to.”
“But,” I begin, giving his hand a deliberate squeeze. “If we’re going to do this, then it has to be done together. You can’t leave me in the dark, even if something comes up. I need to know that you’re alright too.”
A touch of guilt shifts within his expression, and more vulnerability cracks along the edges of his usual composure. “What I do is ugly, and dangerous, and it isn’t going to slow down anytime soon. Sometimes it feels easier to hide it than to make you shoulder it with me.”
“But?” I prompt him with a lifted brow.
He takes a breath. “But, I’ll do better, and I won’t try to do it all alone. So long as you want to stand with me.”
I soften as he adjusts his hold on my hand, fingers lacing with mine, letting my mind drift to the fear, the chaos, and the uncertainty that will follow. I think about how my life will never be simple again.
But, if I’m being honest, it never has been.
The way he stormed the rooftop without hesitation comes to mind, followed by the way he held me like a silent oath in itself.
He could have anyone he wanted, yet Wyatt has never once made me feel expendable. He has never wavered in his desire to keep me safe.
I take in his eyes again, allowing myself to surrender completely. “I’m already standing with you.”
“Even when I don’t deserve it.”
With a gentle breath, Wyatt shifts closer until his forehead rests against mine, leaving us both painfully aware that this shared decision doesn’t make things easier, but it makes us honest. Committed.
“We’ll figure it out, regardless of what comes our way.”
Closing my eyes, I nod, soaking in the feeling of his thumb coming up to brush against my cheek. “Together.”
In the soft, intimate quiet of the car, I don’t feel the need to brace for impact. Instead, I’m choosing where I stand.
I’m choosing him.