Page 36 of Legacy's Destiny

“She’s doing well,” Bandit said, his voice steady. “Keep an eye on her. Make sure she keeps her food down and takes in liquids slowly. Call me immediately if she spikes a fever or anything seems off.” His sharp gaze locked on Deacon. “She needs to follow my instructions to the letter. No exceptions.”

Deacon nodded, determination tightening his resolve. He shrugged off his poncho, the soaked material slapping against the floor, then crossed the small space to Echo. Her fragile appearance stirred something deep in his chest. The fire’s flickering flames illuminated her pale skin and tired eyes, but there was a spark of life in her gaze as he approached.

He held out a small bag. “Dry socks,” he said simply.

Her eyes lit up, a flicker of gratitude breaking through her exhaustion as she took the bag from him. Deacon moved back to the door, crouching to remove his boots. The leather was soaked through, the weight of the water making them feel like lead weights. He sighed, knowing the jungle’s unyielding moisturewouldn’t make drying them easy, but they were all he had. He set them by the fire alongside her boots.

Echo’s soft voice broke the silence. “I’ll share my blanket and socks,” she said, holding the bag with a teasing smile.

Deacon chuckled under his breath and began stripping out of his uniform. The wet fabric stubbornly clung to him, the layers he peeled away sticking to him like plastic wrap. He carefully laid the damp clothes out, draping them over chairs and makeshift racks around the room, ensuring they had the best chance to dry. Clad only in his boxer briefs, he sat down beside her, the heat from the fire licking at his skin.

“You keep the socks,” he said firmly. “As far as I’m concerned, I could run around the jungle in just my boxers. It’s warm enough in here.”

Echo glanced at the fire, her brows furrowing slightly. “I’m sorry. We can let the fire die down if it’s too hot.”

He shook his head, his expression softening. “There’s no way I’m letting that happen until you tell me you’re warm.”

Draping an arm over her shoulders, he pulled her gently against him, and she leaned into his chest, her breathing steady until a sudden cough wracked her body. She groaned softly, clutching her ribs. “My chest hurts,” she murmured. “It feels like an elephant sat on me.”

Deacon smiled faintly, his voice low and soothing. “I’m glad your chest hurts. And before you get mad at me, I’m not saying I want you in pain. I’m just glad you’re alive to feel it.”

His hand moved slowly along her arm as she let out a soft laugh that turned into another cough. “It does make sense,” she said quietly. “I’m still trying to put what happened into perspective.” She paused, her voice dropping even lower. “I swear I saw my aunt.”

“You said that before. Why is that so strange?” he asked, tilting his head to look at her.

She lifted her head from his shoulder, her eyes serious. “She died five years ago.”

Deacon’s gaze darkened with curiosity as he studied her face. He could see the sincerity in her eyes, the weight of whatever she’d experienced. “Can you tell me what happened? I’m interested in what you saw.”

She rolled her eyes, leaning back against him. “You’re going to think I’m insane—more than you already do.”

“First,” he began, his tone firm but kind, “I don’t think you’re insane. I think you’re an incredibly intelligent woman. Anybody who says otherwise or ridicules you for any reason will have to deal with me. Second, I want to know what you experienced. I know you were gone. You didn’t have a pulse. It could’ve been several minutes. I want to know what you felt—what happened.”

He tightened his arm around her slightly, his hand moving softly along her arm. “If you haven’t realized it yet, I’m not the kind of man who judges and finds people lacking. I’m the kind of man who supports you and tells you that you can get through this.”

She made a small sound, almost a sigh, and whispered, “She hugged me.”

Deacon tilted his head closer, his voice softening. “She hugged you?”

Echo nodded. “It was the most wonderful sensation. There was peace—total contentment. Nothing hurt. There was no sadness, no fear. It was just … quiet.” Her voice wavered, and she paused before continuing. “She told me I couldn’t stay. When I asked why, she said I had to go back. She said …” Her voice cracked slightly, and she swallowed hard before finishing. “She said Deacon needed me now.”

Deacon turned to face her fully, his hands taking hers gently. When her gaze met his, he offered her a reassuring smile. “Your aunt was right. I don’t know how it happened so fast, and I’mnot going to play games—I realized how important you are to me on the way up the mountain. Hell, I probably realized it the first night we met. But after you were swept away, after we pulled you out of the water, and after you started breathing again, everything happened so fast. We were moving, climbing, fighting to get here. There wasn’t time to process any of it. But halfway up the mountain, all those emotions hit me like a freaking freight train. I don’t want this connection between us to stop. I don’t want a life without you in it. Don’t let that freak you out—I’m not some stalker or psycho. But there’s an undeniable connection between us. Don’t you agree?”

She nodded, her voice soft. “I think there’s a remarkable connection. But it’s kind of crazy, isn’t it? I mean, shouldn’t we date for a couple of years before we reach this point?”

He chuckled, lifting her hand to his lips and brushing a kiss across the back of it. “Only if you want to take the scenic route.”

“I like the scenic route now and then. But perhaps not this time.” Her lips curved into a soft smile. Her exhaustion was evident in the way her eyelids drooped.

He tapped his thigh gently. “Lay down and sleep. I’ll watch over you.”

She rested her head on his thigh, her gaze fixed on the fire. “I’ve never been religious,” she murmured, “but I know in my heart there’s something after this. Some scientists might say my brain was running out of oxygen, trying to rationalize my last moments. But I don’t think that’s what it was. It was too real. It lasted too long.”

Deacon untangled her braid slowly, his fingers running through her hair as he listened. She continued to talk, her voice soft and thoughtful as she processed what she’d been through. He offered quiet comments, but mostly, he let her speak, giving her the space she needed.

Did he believe in the afterlife? In his line of work, death was ever-present. He couldn’t prove or disprove what she’d experienced, but he could respect it. It was real to her, and that was all that mattered.

As the storm raged outside, rain pounded against the shelter. Deacon remained by her side, allowing her to talk and heal. It wasn’t much, but it was all he could do at that moment. When she fell asleep, he shifted her onto the rolled-up pillow and settled down beside her. It had been one hell of a day.

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