Page 126 of The Vagabond

I nod, eyes burning as tears press forward. The needle bites, sharp, cruel. I don’t even flinch. But Saxon does. My pain slices straight through him.

“You survived,” he whispers, voice wrecked. “You fucking survived, Maxine.”

“Only because you didn’t stop,” I whisper. “Because you always come for me.”

When he’s done, his fingers graze over me, feather-light, terrified — like if he touches me wrong, I’ll dissolve.

He leans in, forehead pressing to mine, breath shaking against my lips.

“I’ll never let you go again,” he murmurs, voice sharp as a blade. “I will burn the whole fucking world before I let anyone take you from me.”

My fingers clutch at his shirt, weak but desperate.

“I want to stay here with you,” I whisper, voice breaking.

He slips his arms under me, lifting me from the sofa. I gasp softly, but I don’t pull away. My head drops to his shoulder, feeling the frantic thump of his heart under his chest. He carries me to the bed, lowering me with a reverence that splits me open.

I’m not fragile. I survived hell. But I’m so so tired. He tucks the covers around me, brushing my sweat-damp hair back.

My eyes find his, heavy, burning.

“You should sleep,” he murmurs, voice rough, frayed.

My fingers twitch, reaching for his.

“Stay,” I whisper. “Please… stay.”

He doesn’t even hesitate. He crawls in beside me, boots still on, blood still staining his clothes. His arm wraps around me, anchoring me, holding me like he’s afraid I’ll slip away if he loosens his grip.

“Thank you,” I whisper into his chest, voice trembling.

His lips press to my temple, arms tightening.

“You’re safe now, baby,” he breathes. “I’ll never let them near you again.”

My eyes drift shut, breath catching on a sob.

“I knew…” I whisper. “I knew if I just held on a little longer… you’d come.”

His chest shudders under my cheek, his body tense.

“I’llalwayscome, Maxine.” His voice breaks. “Always.”

I curl into him, small, trembling, feeling every crack, every scar, every raw edge between us.

“You will,” I whisper.

And then I feel it — his tears, hot, silent, falling into my hair as he holds me tighter, tighter, like if he lets go even for a second, I’ll be ripped away.

But I won’t. Ever. Not with the way he wraps around me like a vow.

When I wake,it takes a moment to remember where I am.

For a breath, I lie there blinking, heart pounding, not sure if I’m still a prisoner in the dark, still chained, waiting to die.

And then — the soft click of a door closing. My head jerks up, eyes darting toward the sound. Saxon steps into the room, moving with the kind of quiet that comes from a life lived in shadows.

I hadn’t even felt him leave the bed. Now he’s back — his hair damp, his clothes changed. A black hoodie hugs his shoulders; joggers hang low on his hips; his feet move silent in worn runners.

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