Page 65 of King of Violence

The clock on the wall ticks past 1AM, but I can’t sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I see him bleeding out in my arms. Theimage is burned into my brain, a horrifying loop that won’t stop playing.

I lean forward and rest my head against the side of the bed, my fingers tightening around his. “You’re such an idiot,” I whisper, my voice cracking. “Running in there alone like you’re some kind of superhero.”

My throat tightens as the words catch up to me. He could’ve died. He almost did. And it’s my fault. If I hadn’t gotten involved, if I’d just kept my distance like I told myself to, none of this would’ve happened.

I close my eyes, letting the weight of the guilt press down on me. “I’m so sorry, Julian,” I murmur, the tears spilling over.

The hours stretch on and exhaustion eventually pulls me under. I must fall asleep at some point because the next thing I know, I’m startled awake by the faintest sound—a groan.

My head snaps up and my heart leaps into my throat. Julian’s eyes flutter open, his gaze unfocused but searching.

“Julian,” I breathe, my voice trembling. I shoot out of the chair and lean over him. “You’re awake.”

He blinks slowly, his lips parting as if to speak, but no sound comes out. His hand twitches weakly in mine, and I squeeze it, relief flooding through me.

“Hey, don’t try to talk,” I say quickly, brushing a hand through his messy hair. “You’re still...you’re still recovering.”

His gaze finds mine, hazy but steady, and something in my chest cracks wide open. The words I’ve been holding back all night spill out before I can stop them.

“I thought I lost you,” I say, my voice breaking. “And it scared the hell out of me because I...because I can’t lose you, Julian. I can’t.”

He blinks again, his brow furrowing slightly, like he’s trying to piece together what I’m saying.

“I know I’m not supposed to feel this way,” I continue, the tears coming faster now. “But I do. I have since the moment you came crashing into my life, all cocky smiles and stupid charm.” I let out a shaky laugh and wipe at my face. “And I’m so mad at you for getting yourself hurt, but I’m even more mad at myself for never telling you how I feel.”

Julian’s fingers tighten around mine, weak but deliberate. His lips move, forming a single word: “Felix.”

“I love you,” I say, the confession tumbling out in a rush. “God, I love you so much, and I don’t care what your family thinks, or anyone else. I’m not going anywhere. Not now, not ever.”

Julian’s eyes glisten as his lips twitch into the faintest of smiles. “Idiot,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible but laced with affection.

I let out a shaky laugh and lean closer, my forehead brushing against his. “Yeah, well, takes one to know one.”

For a moment, we just stay like that, breathing each other in. Then, slowly, he tilts his head up, and our lips meet in the softest, most fragile kiss.

It’s not like the ones we’ve shared before—those were full of heat and want and desperation. This one is different. It’s tender, filled with everything I’ve been too afraid to say and everything he’s too weak to put into words.

When we finally pull apart, his eyes drift closed again, exhaustion overtaking him.

“Felix,” he whispers, his voice slurred with fatigue.

“Yeah?” I say, brushing my thumb over the back of his hand.

“Don’t leave.”

“I won’t,” I promise, and press a kiss to his forehead. “I’m right here.”

He falls asleep moments later, and I sink back into the chair, his hand still clasped in mine. For the first time in hours, myheart feels steady. He’s alive, and he knows how I feel. That’s enough for now.

JULIAN

The soft hum of the private infirmary’s air conditioning is the only constant sound here, aside from the occasional shuffling of nurses. My chest aches every time I take a breath, but it’s a dull pain now, manageable compared to the fire it was two weeks ago. They say I’m healing fast.

Not fast enough.

Felix sits across from me, perched on the edge of a leather chair near the window, chewing on the end of a pen like he’s deep in thought. His textbooks are spread out on the low coffee table, but I know he’s not paying attention to them. Every few minutes, his eyes dart over to me, checking to make sure I’m still breathing, still here.

He’s been here every day since they moved me here.

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