Page 62 of Broken

I bite the inside of my lip to take some of the pain away, to release it, and the revelation hits me. Suddenly, I understand far too easily why Savio finds solace in pain.

But while I have no idea how to help him, I know I have to stop him. I can’t let him stay in the prison of his mind.

I press a hand to his shoulder, but he surges upright, his arm swiping out at me like I’m the aggressor.

Stumbling, I lurch back, and only the fact I tumble into the wall stops me from crumbling to the ground. For a second, I find myself dazed, but I don’t fear him.

If anything, I fearforhim.

My brow puckers as I watch him continue to thrash, and suddenly the one comfort in this room makes sense—his bed.

It isn’t so large because he wants the comfort. God forbid he has anything that makes him less penitent. But he’d fall out of a twin.

I gnaw on my bottom lip as I stare at him, wanting to help but knowing I’m not strong enough, physically, to do so.

That crucifies me.

Deep inside, I’m wrecked because, fuck, helping him is myraison d’être.

I knew that when I went into surgery. I knew I had to survive to save him from himself.

Heis my purpose.

My reason.

This goes beyond being soul mates.

This is divine intervention.

But how can I be his light at the end of the tunnel if I’m not strong enough? If my light is meager?

A broken cry is torn from him. I want to weep, want to slide to my knees at the side of the bed at the sound of him so weak.

Savio is not a man made for weakness.

He’s born of strength.

Forged of iron.

He wouldn’t have survived Algeria otherwise.

Because I don’t know what to do to help him, I move around the bed.

He’s in the center of the mattress, flailing around, but if I stick close to the edge, I won’t fall off.

I need to be with him.

I need him to know he isn’t alone.

For so long, he’s been isolated in a prison of the past, and I haven’t been here for him, but that’s about to change.

I swallow down my nerves as I kneel on the mattress. Half-expecting him to wake up, to leap for me, to go for my throat asDiana warned, I’m surprised when he doesn’t. In celebration, I release a shaky breath.

The second my head connects with the pillow, I turn on my side.

Once my eyes are on him and I’m settled atop the mattress, he calms.

That can’t be a coincidence.

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