Page 43 of What Doesn't Kill Us

He shakes his head, throwing the gun to the side, his hands resting on the top of his thighs as he whispers vehemently, “Never.”

He slowly stands, then walks over until he’s in front of me. He cups my cheeks, both of his hands holding my head in place as he stares into my eyes and leans in close. “Is that all I am to you? A job?”

A small whimper escapes, but my response is clear. “No.”

He nods sharply, but says nothing as he moves behind me, releasing my hands from their restraints. He does the same with my ankles, and then I sit there in the chair, my entire body shaking with tears still streaming down my face as the pressure in my chest releases.

He sits on the floor in front of me, grabbing my hand and pulling me until I slide into his lap. He jostles me around until I’m lying sideways across him, my head against his shoulder, my face pressed against his heart, pounding powerfully in his chest.

He’s rocking me gently, his arms like steel bands around me, and I instinctively struggle a bit, asking, “What are you doing?”

He lowers his head until he's looking into my eyes, and my breath catches in my throat at the calm fire in his as he replies, “Taking care of you.”

I frown but don’t say anything in response. I squirm closer until he shifts, his head lifting, so I’m staring at his chest instead of his eyes.

I’m shaking so hard my teeth chatter, but the tears are slowing, and he presses his face against my ear, whispering, “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

I clutch at him, once again grappling to get closer. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing anymore.”

His arms tighten around me, squeezing me to the point it should be uncomfortable, but it’s not enough, and I whimper again. Then he says, “None of us do. All we can do is our best.”

A bitter laugh falls from my lips. “What if my best isn’t good enough?”

“You’re enough. You’ll always be enough.”

“What if I’m not strong enough?”

“You are. You are.”

I lean into him, allowing him to hold me up. “Don’t let go. Please don’t let go.”

He exhales, his arms around me tightening until I can barely breathe, but I don’t care. I sink in deeper as I let myself cry, his words a whispered promise against my ear.

“I’ll never let go.”

Chapter Sixteen

Matt

Antoinettehasbeenoutfor a while.

She lost a lot of blood from the bullet wound that almost went overlooked during the initial chaos.

I called in the doctor we keep on the payroll, who said she’s lucky it was through-and-through, a flesh wound that will probably annoy for a while. He cleaned it out and then stitched her up, putting in a small drain he says we can remove in a day or two once the drainage has dissipated.

Tony has been prowling around like a caged animal, and I’ve been actively preventing him from putting together his own version of an elite special forces team to go after Darius and Agatha. It’s been difficult to keep him in check because he’s furious at everyone involved, but mostly at himself.

Losing Lilith is going to be immense. We’re not entirely sure what happened, and we won’t know until Antoinette wakes up and briefs us. That’s the biggest reason I’m not giving him free rein to go utterly apeshit on the world. We can’t go blindly into this because that will only get more people killed.

But Tony is so deep into the blame game right now that he’s not thinking clearly. So far, he has blamed everyone you can think of in this scenario, but mostly, he’s blaming us. Because lord fucking knows if the two of us had gotten there sooner, none of this would’ve ever happened. Because he would have prevented it. Because he’s fucking superman.

He’s also an asshole.

I look over and see Toni’s eyes are open. She’s looking in my direction but not directly at me, her unfocused gaze lost.

I rise from my seat and move closer to her, kneeling on the floor beside the bed. “Toni? Are you okay?”

She blinks, then her eyes meet mine, but she says nothing as she shrugs her shoulders and shakes her head simultaneously. So, I ask, “Do you want me to sit with you?”

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