Page 104 of King of Pain
Tears spill down my face before I even register them, falling freely into his hair as I tighten my grip on him. A choked sob rips from my throat, and I clutch him harder, rocking him against me.
“No, no, no,” I whisper, voice hoarse. “Not her. Not Ma. Chance, I'm so sorry.” My fingers card through his hair, pressing desperate kisses to the side of his head, my lips against his temple, his hair, his forehead. “I'm so, so sorry, baby.”
He doesn’t react. Doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t move.
He’s just...gone.
Catatonic.
And I realize—
He’s not coming back from this. Not tonight.
Maybe not ever.
I’ve lost track of how long we’ve been sitting like this, wrapped in silence—wrapped in grief—his body curled into mine, lifeless in my arms.
I reach behind me and tug the blanket off the couch, wrapping it around both of us, cocooning us in something soft, something warm, something that might make this unbearable moment a fraction less cruel.
I exhale, long and heavy, my head lolling against the couch cushion.
I don't know what tomorrow will bring, don't know how to help him, don't know how to pull him back from the edge.
But right now? I just hold him.
It’s all I can do.
Then finally, sleep takes me.
TRACK THIRTY•EIGHT
Alone
Anthony
I wake up slowly, my body stiff and sore from sleeping on the floor. My head is foggy, then the memories of last night come flooding back in a suffocating wave. Chance’s screams, the way he collapsed into me, the way he wouldn’t—couldn’t—speak after getting the call. The way I held him for hours, trying to keep him from unraveling completely.
I sit up quickly, wincing at the dull ache in my neck, and immediately realize something is wrong.
He’s not here.
My arms are empty, the blanket from last night pooled around me, but no Chance. No warmth, no steady breath against my chest.
“Chance?” I call out, my voice hoarse.
Nothing.
Panic grips me as I scramble to my feet. I search the kitchen first, then the patio, my heart pounding harder with every empty space. The hall bathroom—nothing. The bedroom—nothing.
I rub a hand down my face while I try to think.
Okay, maybe he just needed space.
The silence in the apartment is suffocating, unnatural. I rush to find my phone, ready to text him, when there’s a knock at the door. My heart leaps in my throat, relief hitting me instantly.
He’s back.Wait, why is he knocking?
I rush to the door, yanking it open, only to come face-to-face with Lexi, Guinness sitting obediently at her side. She beams at me, her face alight with something teasing. “Well, hello,Romeo,” she says, stepping inside. “I’m guessing the reason Little G had a sleepover with Auntie Lex is that you had a good night?”
