44. Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Four
Reaper
Wrenley sleeps with her cheek against my chest, one hand curled in the fabric of my shirt like she’s afraid I’ll disappear if she lets go.
Max is pressed against her other side, arm draped over her waist, breath steady and warm against her shoulder.
It should be peaceful. It should be heaven.
It should be the safest place I’ve ever been.
Not tonight though, and it’s killing me.
The room is dark enough that I can barely see the outline of her lashes against her cheek, the small rise of her lips as she breathes in and out, soft and steady.
Her hair, all that unruly flame-red, spilled across my arm like she’d marked me in the middle of the night.
Her body fits perfectly against mine, tucked beneath my chin, exactly where she belongs.
I hold her tighter, knowing what I’m about to do. Her breath stirs against my skin, slow, even, trusting. Max shifts in his sleep, the mattress dipping just slightly with the movement, his fingertips brushing hers in a way that makes something warm and sharp lodge under my ribcage.
My family. My heart. My reason. I close my eyes, memorizing the rhythm of their breathing, hers light and steady, Max’s deeper and heavier.
I count them. Anchor myself in them. Let them carve themselves into the deepest parts of me.
Because soon, I won’t have this. Soon, they’ll wake up to the cold space where I should be.
Wrenley murmurs something in her sleep, soft and unintelligible, her fingers tightening on my shirt.
My chest burns. God, I love her. More than I ever thought possible.
More than I ever should. More than a man like me deserves.
I think of the promise we made, the one she whispered against my lips, the one she looked me in the eyes and swore… Always.
Always. I swallow hard. “I’m sorry,” I whisper silently, words meant only for the dark. Because this is the only way. The only path that ends with her alive and safe. The only move that gets her out from Sebastian’s shadow before it wraps itself around her throat.
She doesn’t know how deep it runs. She doesn’t know what he’s planning. She doesn’t know what I found last night, the thing that made every hair on my body stand on end, the thing that told me there’s no more time to wait.
This isn’t just about ending him. It’s about protecting her. I can’t do that with her at my side. I can’t let Max follow me into this either, because if he does, and something happens to both of us, she’s left alone. I won’t risk that.
“I’m protecting you,” I whisper, brushing my thumb over her knuckles. Both of you. Even if it destroys me. Even if it destroys us. I press my lips to the top of her head, breathing her in, paint, lavender, warmth, and the soft sweetness she never sees in herself.
“I love you,” I whisper into her hair, so quiet, neither of them stirs. Then I ease my arm out from under her, slow enough not to wake her, gentle enough not to disturb Max, and sit on the edge of the bed.
I take one last look at the two of them, tangled together, safe, alive, and unaware.
I know with absolute certainty. This is the last time I’ll ever lie beside them like this.
Not because I don’t want it. Not because I don’t need them.
But because the only way to keep my promise of…
always… is to break it, and walk into hell alone.
The war room is almost silent. Only the soft hum of the monitors. Only the slow click of the clock on the wall. Only Hugo shifting against my foot, sensing everything I’m holding back.
I sit at the long table with nothing but a piece of paper and pen in front of me. My hands shake once before I force them still. I write Max’s name at the top. The rest comes in one slow, painful exhale.
Max,
Thank you for letting me love her out loud. Thank you for never making me hide it or feel wrong for it. Thank you for standing beside me instead of in front of me.
I stop. Breathe. Tap the pen once.
You are the best brother I’ve ever had. You are the best man I know. Take care of yourself. Take care of her. Take care of all of our brothers.
My hand tightens on the pen hard enough to crack it.
And know this, I love you. Always.
-Liam
The pen drops from my fingers like it’s made of lead. Hugo whines quietly. “I know,” I whisper, reaching down to rub behind his ear. “I know, buddy.”
It takes me a moment before I can stand.
Before I can set up the camera, and I can bring myself to press record.
I turn on the small speaker beside me, soft, barely audible, and cue up our song.
The Night We Met by Lord Huron. The one she clung to.
The one she played in the dark on the nights she thought she wasn’t being watched.
The one we danced to, slow and quiet, when she finally let herself fall.
The notes drift into the room like ghosts.
I look into the lens, into her, and I start speaking before I can lose my nerve.
“Hey, little warrior. If you’re watching this… it means I’m gone. And I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry. I never wanted you to see me like this, never wanted you to hear these words from a damn screen, but I need you to know the truth, all of it, before you try to hate me for leaving.”
My breath trembles, but I keep going.
“I love you. I love you more than I ever thought a man like me was capable of. Before you, I thought love was something other people got. Better people. Softer people. People who didn’t have blood on their hands or ghosts in their hearts or nightmares waiting behind their eyelids.
But then you walked in and you looked at me like I was someone worth keeping.
Like there was something in me still worth saving.
And maybe there was. Maybe you were right.
Because somewhere along the way, somehow, I must’ve redeemed myself just enough for the universe to put you in my path. ”
I drag in a breath that shakes my whole frame.
“You were my miracle. You still are. And I don’t deserve you, not your light, not your fire, not the way you say my name like it’s worth saying.
I’ve done terrible things, Wrenley. Awful, unforgivable things.
But loving you wasn’t one of them. Loving you was the only good thing I ever did right.
And you let me. You let me love you. Out loud.
Without shame. Without fear. Like I was someone worth choosing. ”
The music hums behind me, soft and haunting.
“And I made you a promise. ‘Always.’ I meant it. I meant it when I said it the first time, and I mean it now. But sometimes… sometimes the only way to keep a promise is to break it. Sometimes protecting the people you love means walking away before the world rips them apart to try to reach them. I know you don’t want to hear that.
I know you’re probably furious. But I need you to understand something, this is how I protect you.
This is how I protect all of you. By going after the monster that’s coming for us all, before he ever has the chance to touch what’s mine. ”
I lean closer to the camera, voice barely above a whisper now.
“And you… Wrenley Hayes-Blackwood… you were the best thing in my entire life. The best thing I ever touched. The best thing I have ever held. The best thing I have ever loved. If I don’t come home, it won’t be because I didn’t try.
It won’t be because I didn’t fight hard enough.
It’ll be because I traded my life for yours, and I would do it again without hesitation. ”
My breath comes out unevenly. The song reaches the softest, most aching part.
“I will love you for the rest of my life,” I say, voice breaking on the words, but I don’t allow it to stop me. “And after. And after that. And every version of the world where I get to find you again.”
My eyes close, and I can’t stop the tear that rolls hot down my cheek.
“And I will find you again. In this life or the next.”
I reach out and turn off the camera. The song plays for three more seconds before the room goes quiet.
The war room feels too quiet now. The video file glows faintly on the monitor. Max’s folded note lies beside it. Hugo sits at my feet, ears pinned back, tail unmoving, sensing more than any human ever could.
I pull my shirt over my head and lift the blade. My skin prickles. I’ve done far worse things to far worse people. But somehow, cutting this piece of metal out of my own body feels like betrayal. Not to myself. To her.
The blade dips beneath the skin at the base of my neck, cold and sharp. I grit my teeth as I work the small tracker free, a sting, a burn, a brief flash of white behind my eyes, then it’s out.
A bead of blood rolls down my spine. I set the tracker on the war room table next to Max’s note. Hugo whines. “I know,” I say quietly, wiping the blade clean. “She’s not going to like that either.” He rests his chin on my boot.
I pack the gear with practiced efficiency, the weapons she hates me using, the one she thinks I keep locked away, a few tools, a burner phone, exactly enough ammo to do what needs to be done, and no more.
No overkill. No margin for hesitation. Hugo watches every movement. When I sling the bag over my shoulder and reach for my jacket, he stands abruptly, tail stiff, pacing. He knows. He always knows.
We make it halfway down the hall before he tries to walk in front of me, blocking the path to the front door. “Hugo,” I whisper. “Move.”
He shakes his head. The damn dog shakes his head. My chest cracks. I kneel in front of him, taking his face in both my hands. His fur is soft, warmer than usual, like he’s heated himself trying to stay between me and whatever I’m walking into.
“I know you love her as much as I do,” I murmur, forehead pressed to his. “You stick close to her. You hear me?”
His ears twitch like he’s arguing. I kiss the top of his head, letting my lips stay there a beat too long. “Stay quiet,” I whisper against his fur. “Don’t wake them up yet.”
He huffs, a sharp, frustrated, heartbroken sound, and sits down, perfectly still, like he’s obeying something that’s tearing him apart to follow. I stand walking to the front door. I open it slowly, carefully, the hinges barely whispering.
The house is dark behind me. Breathing. Alive. The only home I’ve ever known. I step outside and close the door softly, the latch clicking like a goodbye. The air is cold. Halfway down the steps, I stop. I don’t want to turn around. I don’t want to look. But I do.
I look at the mansion, the windows still lit from Daisy being awake earlier, the faint glow from the hallway lights, the shadows in the upper rooms where Max and Wrenley sleep, tangled together.
My throat burns. “I’m sorry,” I whisper again into the night. I walk to the garage. My bike sits waiting, dark and silent. I roll it out by hand, slow, steady, careful, the wheels whispering against the concrete. The engine stays dead until I reach the gate at the end of the long, winding driveway.
Only then do I swing a leg over it. Only then do I allow myself one more look over my shoulder at the mansion that holds my whole goddamn world. Then I fire the engine, quietly as possible, but still loud enough that it echoes through the trees. I ride into the dark. Alone.