Page 95 of The Bait

And he was tired.

So fucking tired.

He wanted to sleep forever. He wanted sleep to ease the pain, both sharp and dull, the stings, the aches. God, even his bones were heavy, aching and leaden. As if a weight was holding him down.

But then Asher’s touch, his voice, broke through the surface.

Harry blinked awake, and then there was Asher’s face. Still bruised, still swollen, but still beautiful. He sobbed and threw himself at Harry, burying his face in his neck as he cried.

“Hey,” Harry croaked.

Asher mumbled something into his neck, the tears and hot breath on his skin felt so good.

But then a guy in a white coat was there, and Asher was gone. The doctor leaned over him, shining a pen light into his eyes that pierced Harry’s brain.

If he could have lifted his hand, he’d have grabbed that pen and stabbed him with it.

But he was so heavy.

Morphine, Harry realised.

The doctor spoke, telling him where he was, what his injuries were, but Harry couldn’t focus. He closed his eyes and let the blessed drug take him.

When Harry woke up again,Asher was sitting beside him. He’d showered, his face, neck, and hair clean from all the blood, he looked better. Still bruised and cut, but better. He grinned when Harry’s eyes opened.

“Hey you,” he said, gripping Harry’s hand in both of his.

“Hey,” Harry managed. He slow-blinked, taking in Asher’s bruised face. “You okay?”

Asher nodded, then shook his head. “I’m better now you’re awake.”

Harry took a breath in, his lungs and ribs both protesting. “Tired.”

“You need to rest,” Asher said. “Your body needs to rest. You... you’ve been through a lot.” His chin wobbled. “God, baby. I never thought I’d see you again. I thought you were dead.”

Harry squeezed his hand. “I thought you were too.”

“You . . . you have a lot of injuries,” Asher whispered. “What they did to you . . .”

“I’m okay,” Harry said, relishing in the warmth of Asher’s hands. He tried to smile, even though his jaw hurt. “We made it.”

They had made it out alive, that much was true. But it was only because they had outside help. That team of men almost half Harry’s age. They were the reason Harry and Asher had made it.

Asher nodded, tears falling down his cheeks. “We did.” Then he swallowed hard. “Yunho’s okay. Well, he will be. Lucas... Lucas is in bad shape.”

Harry remembered seeing Lucas in the light of that small room. His bruises, the pool of blood on the floor.

“He’s MI6,” Harry whispered.

Asher nodded. “And Yunho was in on it, somehow. Not with the bad guys, but he did things, Harry. Not good things.” Asher sniffed, another tear escaping his good eye. “He said he’ll tell me everything. But I don’t... I don’t know what to think or what to believe. He’s not who I thought he was. Neither of them are.”

Harry squeezed Asher’s hand the best he could. “Baby.Let’s wait to hear what he has to say. Then if you want me to kill him, I will.”

Asher’s lip curled into a smile and he chuckled. “You’re so sweet.”

Harry sighed and closed his eyes. “So tired.”

He felt a soft kiss on his forehead. “Sleep, my love.”

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