Page 56 of Fallen Empire
Fear wasn’t something I was used to. If it were only me I had to worry about, I’d have found him by now and handled it. Hell, maybe even tortured him a little for sport.
But now… there was Savannah.
There was Millie.
And there wasn’t a single doubt in my mind that whatever he wanted, it wasn’t just about Savannah. She wasn’t the prize. I had a feeling she was just the bait.
“See what you can find out about him,” I said, standing straighter, forcing my voice to level out. “He’s Russian, for fuck’s sake—there has to be a reason he’shere. Figure out his role in all of this. Trace it. Whatever he’s tied to, unravel it. We need to get this shit under wraps before someone else’s life is at stake.”
“You got it, boss.”
She turned like she was going to leave, but hesitated.
Nic never got nervous.
But whatever she was about to say? It had her on edge.
“What?” I asked. “Spit it out.”
She met my gaze, steady but cautious.
“I want to place trackers in everyone,” she said. “Every single one of us. In case shit goes sideways again. I’m not risking losing anyone else.”
“Fine.” I didn’t second-guess it. We couldn’t afford another close call like Savannah’s. We got lucky last time. We had just enough eyes on the city to track them before they vanished.
Bruce was sloppy.
Koslov? He wouldn’t leave a single crumb.
“Get whatever you need,” I told her. “I’ll let everyone know.”
I walked past her, back toward the hospital room, where I now had to figure out how the hell to tell two of the most independent women I’d ever met that I was about to put a foreign object in their bodies.
Whether they liked it or not.
I stepped in just as the nurse was slipping out.
“Mr. Westbrook,” she said, offering a small smile. “Thank you for getting yourself together. I adjusted her medication slightly so she can start to wake up. If the pain becomes too much, we’ll ease it back. Just keep me posted.”
“Thank you,” I murmured, nodding as I brushed past her and stepped fully inside.
Millie was still asleep on the sofa, Ben close by her side. He looked exhausted. Like the weight of the day had finally started to wear him down.
I moved to my usual spot beside Savannah, pulled the chair close, let the side rail down, and settled in.
For the first time in days, I just… rested.
Sometimes dreams made reality feel dull.
They say people with depression often slept more—not because they were lazy, but because it was the only way to escape. Escape to an unconscious realm where the world didn’t hurt.
Maybe in that place, they could sit across from the person they’d lost, without feeling the grief. Maybe they could remember how happiness used to taste, before darkness turned it bitter.
For me, it was the way her fingers moved through my hair.
A rhythm so familiar, it felt like breathing.
Her palm warm and steady, sweeping gently over my scalp.
