Page 105 of Fallen Empire
Her cold fingers tapped gently against the top of my hand, soft and steady in that strangely comforting way she had.
“Very well,” she murmured. “I’ll get you some pain medicine. We’ll try a little more walking later.”
“She’s actually the devil,” Millie snapped the moment the door clicked shut behind Nurse Ruth.
“The devil in a damn stellar disguise,” Jaxson agreed.
I didn’t have the strength to laugh. I just focused on breathing—slow and steady. In, and out. In, and out.
My eyes were growing heavier by the second, but there were questions I still wanted to ask. Things I needed to know before she returned, and I let the pain medicine pulled me under.
I glanced toward the cup on the rolling tray. Millie caught it instantly, already on the move.
“Here, let me get you some water.”
Jaxson was still standing beside me. Watching. Waiting. I blinked back the burn in my eyes before finally looking up at him.
“Savannah,” he said softly, “you are one amazingly brave woman. I’m proud of you. And I love you.” He didn’t care that anyone was in the room.
And in that moment, I saw it.
Every word he couldn’t quite say, written plain in his eyes.
Pride. Love. Fear. And something else, too. Something darker. Something hotter.
Desire.
“Here, loverboy,” Millie joked as she handed him the cup.
Jaxson brought it in front of my face, tilting the straw gently toward me.
He didn’t need me to say the words back. I’d already said them—with my dying breath.
And suddenly, the vision came back, clear as day. Jaxson on his knees beside me, begging me to stay. Blood on his hands. Fear in his eyes.
The scene rewound in my mind, jagged and in slow motion. I watched him move in reverse, stepping away from me. Running backwards until he was standing in front of Bruce.
Right before he fired the shot that ended my husband’s life.
I took the straw as he pressed it to my lips and let the liquid soothe my nerves. The pieces of the puzzle were starting to fit together.
I emptied the cup, and Jaxson turned to refill it without a word.
Nurse Ruth stepped back inside, a small syringe already prepped in her hand. She moved to my side, gently lifting my wrist and turning it just enough to scan the armband.
No words. No questions. She already knew.
She gave a small nod to herself, swabbed the injection port on my IV line, and connected the syringe.
“This will help,” she murmured. “You’ll feel it kick in pretty quickly.”
The medication pushed in slow and steady, warming my arm as it moved through my veins.
She checked a couple more monitors, then grabbed her chart. “Get some rest. You’re going to need it this afternoon.”
And just like that, she turned and walked away.
I didn’t want to think about her words. I’d ignore them for as long as I could.
