Page 96 of Fallen Heir
I barely registered the movement before pain exploded through my chest. My body jerked back, legs giving out, the world stopping around me.
Even as I fell, even as fire bloomed in my ribcage and breath fled my lungs, I saw Bruce's expression twist.
Jaxson moved.
Faster than I’d ever seen a human move.
Bruce never got off another shot.
Jaxson lunged—a single, violent motion of fury and desperation—grabbing Bruce’s arm and twisting it until bonescracked. There was a struggle, short and brutal. A flash of steel. A scream. And then…
Bruce was on the ground.
Dead.
I watched it happen.
His body hit the ground with a dull thud, blood seeping from the corner of his mouth. His eyes—those cold, calculating eyes—were still open, staring at me, but empty. No rage. No pride.
The gun still in his hand. Mouth parted. Eyes wide in disbelief that this was how it ended. No empire. No money. Just silence. Just a man who thought he was invincible, staring up at the sky as it swallowed him whole.
And me…
I was on the ground too.
My vision blurred. My ears rang. The world around me dimmed as if someone was slowly turning down the volume of my life. My breath came in gasps—shallow, broken. Pain radiated through my chest, so sharp and searing I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t stop it.
But I wasn’t afraid.
Because this time, I wasn’t the one being saved. And he wasn’t the one saving someone. Our roles were reversed. Love sealing our fates.
Jaxson dropped beside me, his hands already bloody as he pressed them against my wound, his voice a frantic whisper. “No, no, no—stay with me, Savannah. Stay with me. Please. Just hold on. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”
His arms cradled me, his forehead pressed to mine, and I could feel his panic—the shaking of his hands, the hitch in his voice, the way he couldn’t breathe.
I wanted to tell him it was okay. That I was okay. But my mouth was dry. My tongue too heavy. And the blackness was curling again at the corners of my vision, creeping in like smoke under a locked door.
I looked at him one last time.
The games were over. The lies. The pretending. There was no more time to be brave or clever or strong. I had fought with everything I had. And now—I had nothing left.
I wanted a fairytale ending. I wanted him to be the knight who saved me, the one who slayed every demon and carried me into the light. But that’s not how our story was written. Not all damsels get rescued. Not all love stories are carved in forever. Those romance novels lie to you—they feed you hope, promise a happy ending if you just hold on long enough. That good things happen to good people.
But this? This was real.
Blood and bone. Fire and steel. Pain so sharp it stole the air from my lungs.
His eyes locked on mine—wild and breaking and full of the love he never got the chance to say out loud. I hoped I could carry the memory of his face with me. Into the dark. Into whatever came next.
“I’ll always love you,” I whispered, barely a breath.
My final truth.
Then… nothing.
No sound. No light.
Just the black. Just the quiet.
