Page 241 of Sins of the Hidden

"You don't know that.," my voice dropped, something close to begging. "Every time I leave you, something takes another piece. I won't—I can't?—"

"Look at me." Her fingers found my jaw, trembling as they traced the edge of my mask. "I need you close," she whispered, her fingers curling into my shirt. The tremor in her voice betrayed the fear she was trying to hide.

"You were dead." Something inside me cracked, spilling things I'd kept buried since the lake. "I had to make you breathe again.” My voice broke, lungs locked. Air turned solid in my chest. The room blurred at the edges, darkening like I was back at that fucking lake, diving into the water, seconds too late again. My pulse hammered against my ribs, so hard it would hurt if I could feel pain. My fingers dug into my thighs, knuckles white, the pressure enough to crack bone.

"V?" Her voice came from far away. Underwater. Drowning.

I couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe. My jaw locked so tightly my teeth might shatter. My body betraying every bit of control I had. The memory of her weight in my arms—limp, cold, gone—punched through me with such force my vision whited out for a second.

I'd killed men with these hands. Tortured them. Broken them. But I couldn't put life back into her body. Couldn't force her heart to beat. For all my violence, all my power, I was fucking useless when it mattered most.

"V, breathe." Her hands framed my face, thumbs pressing into my cheekbones hard enough to anchor me. "I'm right here. Look at me."

My head jerked once in a nod, muscles rigid to the point of rupture. If I moved too much, I'd fly apart. Disintegrate like she did in that water. Like she might still if I looked away for even a second.

"Count with me," she said, pressing my hand flat against her chest so I could feel each heartbeat. "One. Two. Three."

I couldn't count. Couldn't think. There was only the thunder of her pulse beneath my palm and the certainty that I would burn down the world, kill every living soul, just to keep that rhythm going.

"Is this what your anxiety does?" The question scraped out of me. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw it. Those seconds that almost stole you forever. Her sinking in the water. Her bleeding out on Mother's floor. Her locked somewhere I couldn't reach. The same fucking ending every time—me standing over what was left of her because I wasn't fast enough.

Sometimes I found her smiling. But it was sewn into her face like Mother's gift. And when I touched her, she shattered—glass and thread and silence in my hands.

"Come here." She pulled me down until my head rested against her chest, her heartbeat in my ear. Alive. Here. "Listen. I'm still here."

Her fingers brushed my hair, soft in a way that threatened to undo me.

"I'll never let anyone else have you." I vowed.

Her hands continued their strokes. "I know."

No judgment. No fear. Just acceptance of what I was, what I'd always been.

I'd never stop watching. Never stop guarding. Never be more than a breath away. She'd never be alone again.

When we get to the clubhouse, the girls were on Oakley. Nyla held her too tight. Joslyn already started her yapping and Faith bitch face was already giving me the evil eye. Oakley gave me a smile before Joslyn whispered something in her ear. Libby tilted her head toward the hallway. The girls started to go, and my heart started to race until my wife mouthed she’d be right back.

My fingers were already twitching, nerves racing through my veins. Fuck this newfound anxiety shit.

My attention shifted to the seating area next to us Tyrant towered over Callista, his massive frame awkwardly shifted to one side like he was trying to make himself smaller. Didn't work. His shadow still swallowed her whole where she sat curled into herself on the couch.

Her fingers twisted the hem of her shirt. Eyes darting around the room.

"You okay?" Tyrant asked, his usually gruff voice softened around the edges. When she nodded, he shot her a disapproving look. “You don’t look fine.”

"I-I promise I-I am." She wouldn't look directly at him, keeping her gaze lowered, submissive. "I-I am not used to this."

"Used to what?"

"Freedom." The word barely a whisper as she peered up at him through tangled hair.

Tyrant dropped to one knee, his massive frame still towering over her seated form, but trying to meet her at eye level. The gesture looked foreign on him, this monster of a man kneeling like he was approaching something fragile.

"No. Your body's yours now. Nobody here is gonna hurt you. Ever." His jaw tightened, a vein pulsing in his forehead. "If someone tries, I'll rip their fucking heart out."

My hand dropped to my side, reaching for a bat that wasn't there anymore. Fuck. Like missing a limb—worse, maybe. The bat was always there, solid and real when nothing else was.

The front doors crashed open, Victoria and her copper hair making a beeline for Grim sitting at the bar chewing on his water bottle cap. “Where the fuck is he?”

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