Page 91 of Retaliation

“I won’t,” Phillip promised, his gratitude evident as he addressed Nick with a nod of appreciation, and Nick turned, leading Phillip through the swinging doors.

THIRTY TWO

Outside Poison’s room, Phillip hesitated, uncertain of how to approach her. Like a wary deer cautiously stepping into unfamiliar territory, he entered the room with tentative steps, his movements careful and unsure.

“Hey,” he murmured, his gaze fixed on the floor beneath him as he leaned on the door he shut behind him.

“Hi,” Poison replied, attempting a smile that faltered into a pained grimace. The effort of even the slightest expression caused her discomfort.

The sight of her in pain was unbearable. Without hesitation, he rushed to her side, his hands enveloping hers with a gentle grip.

“How are you feeling?” His eyes scanned her body, searching for any sign of further injury.

Despite her own pain, she tried to reassure him, with a faint attempt at optimism.

“I’m fine, really. Don’t worry,” she whispered, her voice hoarse.

He couldn’t bear to face her, his emotions overwhelming him as he turned away, his face buried in his hands. The weight of guilt and remorse bore down on him, threatening to drown him.

“What was I thinking? How could I do this to you? I’m so sorry. I really…” His words trailed off, choked with guilt, but she intervened before his self-reproach could consume him.

“Shut up, won’t you?” she interjected, managing a strained smile. “You talk way too much; you know that? It was my idea anyway.”

His brow creased in confusion at her assertion as he turned to her, taking her hand again. “What do you mean it was your idea? I was the one who nearly killed you.”

“I know,” she said. “But I knew the risk. I wanted you to fight me, why do you think I was in your territory?” she explained.

For a moment, he considered her words. She wanted him to fight her?

“Why didn’t you kill me?” she asked, as if enquiring about the day’s weather.

His gaze drifted to their entwined hands, his touch

tender as he traced the lines of her palm.

“I couldn’t,” he confessed, his voice hardly above a whisper. “I realized I lost someone I cared for a lot, but killing someone else that I cared for, just to get even, wasn’t worth it. Rex wouldn’t have wanted it,” he admitted, his words heavy.

He stole a glance at Poison, and found her staring at him doe-eyed, her cheeks flushed like delicate rose petals; violated by the bruising under her eyes.

Before she could respond, she was interrupted by a knock at the door. A blonde woman, slightly older than Poison, entered the room with a black bag. Following her was a little girl in her pajamas.

Phillip was grateful for the distraction. He hadn’t realized Poison might not share his feelings. He’d hoped she did but never allowed himself ponder the opposite.

As the woman approached, she briefly touched his shoulder before placing the bag on the floor and focusing her attention on Poison’s uninjured ankle, her expression radiating both maternal love and concern. The little girl’s head appeared next to Poison’s shoulder, her proud grin adding a touch of lightness to the tense atmosphere.

“Nick just called me. What happened?” the woman exclaimed, and he realized it must be Nick’s girlfriend, Nina.

“Well, hello to you, too, Neen. Hey, Demi.”

Despite her injuries, Poison managed to greet the

little girl with a one-armed hug, albeit after gently freeing her hand from his grasp. He was reluctant to let her go, fearing she might vanish if he did.

“Oh, yeah. Hello. So what happened?” Nina’s tone became more insistent, prompting Poison to evade the question.

Phillip had a feeling that explaining to Nina would invite a lecture or, worse, punishment. Nina’s expression superseded that of any disappointed mother.

Poison met his gaze, the compassion in his ink-black eyes registering in her own.

---