Page 18 of Savage Book Boyfriend

The guards stopped outside his room, and I took a deep breath before pushing open the door. The sight of Cecil in that bed, machines hooked up to him, his skin pale—it hit me harder than I expected.

I moved closer, taking a seat beside him, my heart clenching. He looked fragile, not like the ruthless man I knew.

“Cecil...” I whispered, my voice breaking. Tears blurred my vision, but I held them back. “Why did it have to be like this?”

He didn’t respond—he couldn’t. I squeezed his hand gently, my throat tight. We were never close, but he was all I had before I met Dante. We had a brother and a sister but I was even more detached from them. At least Cecil cared enough to send me help.. Now, the idea of losing him sent a wave of grief crashing over me. It wasn’t fair.

Hours passed, and I stayed there, not moving, not talking—just sitting with him. The beeping of the machines was steady, like some kind of countdown. And then, it wasn’t. The flatline noise cut through me like a knife.

“No...” I choked out, standing up as the nurses rushed in, pushing me back as they worked. I felt my legs give out, and I stumbled back into the chair, shaking my head in disbelief.

Cecil was gone.

The nurses said something to me, but their words were drowned out by the ringing in my ears. I couldn’t breathe. My brother was dead.

“Genesis...” Dante’s voice was soft as he knelt beside me, his hand gently rubbing my back. I didn’t know when he’d come in, but his presence was everything I needed in that moment. The tears I’d been holding back finally spilled over, and I buried my face in my hands.

“He’s gone, Dante,” I sobbed, my whole body shaking. “He’s really gone.”

Dante pulled me into his arms, holding me tightly against his chest. His warmth surrounded me, and for the first time that night, I let myself fall apart. He didn’t say anything, just held me, his fingers gently running through my hair as I cried into him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m so damn sorry.”

I nodded against him, unable to find the words. My chest ached, my heart broken, but being in Dante’s arms made the pain just a little bit more bearable.

After what felt like forever, my sobs slowed, and I leaned back, wiping at my swollen eyes. Dante’s hand cupped my face, his thumb brushing away the tears. He kissed my forehead, and I closed my eyes, feeling a sense of calm settle over me.

“I'm so damn sorry,” he murmured. “He'll get what's coming to him. I promise.”

“I know,” I whispered, leaning into his touch.

He helped me to my feet, guiding me back to the waiting area where Mia was playing quietly, guarded by two men. I bent down, scooping her into my arms, holding her tightly. She sensed something was wrong, but thankfully, she was too young to understand.

Dante led us to another room where his grandmother—Mimi—was resting. He made sure we were comfortable before he kissed my forehead again, his eyes full of promise.

“I’ll be back soon,” he said quietly. “I need to handle something.”

I nodded, too emotionally drained to ask what he meant. “Be safe,” I whispered, holding Mia tighter.

He gave me a small smile before turning to leave. I watched him go, my heart heavy, but knowing that whatever he was about to do—it was for us. For our family.

As I lay down with Mia beside me, exhaustion finally took over, and sleep claimed me. But even in my dreams, I could feel the storm brewing, knowing that when Dante came back—nothing would be the same again.

I stared out the window, the dark night sky heavy with clouds, barely letting the stars peek through. Mia’s soft breath on my chest was the only sound in the quiet hospital room aside from the monitors on Mimi. Mia had fallen asleep hours ago, but no matter how hard I tried, sleep refused to come to me. Grief was a strange thing—it snuck up on you when you least expected it, dug its claws in, and refused to let go. Cecil’s death had left a hollow ache inside me, one I hadn’t quite figured out how to deal with yet.

The sound of shifting fabric broke the silence, and I glanced over at Mimi in her hospital bed. Her eyes were open, watching me with a kind of wisdom that only comes from living a long, hard life. She gave me a gentle smile, one that reached her eyes, and for a moment, I felt like I wasn’t drowning in my grief.

“You should be resting,” she said softly, her voice laced with concern.

I shook my head, brushing a strand of Mia’s curly hair behind her ear. “Can’t sleep.”

Mimi looked at me for a long time, her eyes knowing. “Grief will do that to you,” she said, almost as if she could read my thoughts. She adjusted her blanket and took a deep breath, her gaze drifting toward the window. “You know, Dante was a difficult pregnancy for his mother.”

Her words took me by surprise, and I turned toward her, curious. Mimi’s voice softened as she continued, “She didn’t want children. At least, not when she found out she was pregnant with him. She was young, scared. The pregnancy took a toll on her body and mind.”

I swallowed hard, wondering where this story was going, but I listened intently.

Mimi’s eyes softened with memories. “But when Dante was born... everything changed. She looked at him, and she knew. Knew that despite everything, she loved him more than anything in the world.”

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