Page 47 of Kneeling for Daddy
“Anything, okay?” Nik says again, firmer this time. He leans in and presses a kiss to my forehead, lingering for just a breath before stepping out onto the terrace. The glass door clicks shut, muffling the low rumble of voices—Hawk, Gunnar, Jagger, Damon. And now Enzo and Cillian, too, the men Nik trusts most. They gather outside, talking strategy, control, and war.
Left alone and suddenly engulfed in silence, my eyes flick back to Alek. The rise and fall of his chest is barely perceptible beneath all the blood. There’s too much of it. On him. On me. On the counters. Still dripping onto the floor.
My legs are shaky as my feet land when I slide off the granite top. I turn on the sink and wait for the water to warm. It feels like it takes forever, though I know it’s only seconds. I grab a dishcloth from the drawer, wet it, and wring out the excess water. My hands shake so badly that the fabric slips twice before I can hold it steady.
I return to Alek and start with his chest, careful around the ugly sutures Damon stitched. Working methodically, I wipe away the blood, rinsing, wringing, and repeating. Each time I dip the rag under the running faucet, pink swirls spiral down the drain like something out of a nightmare.
His skin looks less like death as I clean him, and he looks more like my brother again. I whisper apologies under my breath, words I’ll never say when he’s awake.I’m sorry I hated you. I’m sorry I didn’t try harder. I’m sorry I didn’t say I love you.
When I finish with him, I can’t stop. The counter is slick with pools of blood, the cabinets streaked where it sprayed. I scrub until my arms ache, until the rag is more red than white.
“Ani.” Nik’s voice cuts through the haze, steady and low. I don’t hear the door open, but Nik is suddenly behind me. “Ani.” His hand closes gently over mine. “You don’t have to do this.”
“I have to dosomething.” My voice cracks, and I hate how small it sounds.
Enzo walks toward us, his dark eyes warm and caring. “We’ll take care of this.”
Nik doesn’t let go of me. Instead, he gently pulls me from the mess. “Let them, while we get you cleaned up.”
I shake my head, pulling back just enough to keep the rag moving. “I don’t want to leave him.”
From the doorway, Cillian’s voice rumbles. “We’ll watch over him.”
My hands falter, and Nik doesn’t give me chance to argue. He slides the cloth out of my grip and sets it on the counter, dragging me away before I can protest. My feet stumble, but his hand is firm at the small of my back, guiding me down the hall and into our bedroom.
Without a word, he steers me into the bathroom and turns on the shower. The cascading water fills the room, drowning out the noise in my head. He reaches for my shirt as shower warms.
“I can do?—”
“I know you can,” he cuts me off, gently tugging at the hem of my shirt. His hands are careful and reverent as he strips me from my blood-soaked clothes and haphazardly tosses them away. They land in a heap on the floor, too ruined to ever be saved. He peels the layers away like he’s unwrapping something fragile. “My brothers are taking care of Alek, the same as they’d take care of me. Letmetake care of you.”
My throat closes around the words I want to say as he slides my panties down my legs. Once I’m naked, he removes his own clothes and tugs me under the spray with him.
The water runs red at first, swirling around the drain, staining the white tile. Nik takes the bar of soap and lathers it in his palms before running them gently over my skin, washing away every trace of the life that spilled from my brother. His touch is firm but soothing, his hands rubbing slow circles over my shoulders, my arms, my hands.
Pulling me close, he holds me tight to his chest before tipping my head back. He wets my hair and works shampoo in with steady fingers, massaging my scalp, with my hands resting on his chest. I don’t even realize I’m crying until Nik tilts my chin up and wipes away the tears with the pad of his thumb. “He’s strong, Ani. Stubborn as hell. He’ll fight.”
I nod in agreement, though his words feel hollow.
Tenderly, he rinses the soap from my hair, running his fingers through it until the water runs clear. Then he wraps me in a towel and ushers me into the bedroom. He dresses me in clean clothes. letting his soft, warm shirt swallow me whole.
By the time we return to the kitchen, the smell of bleach hangs faintly in the air. The counters gleam and the floors shine. Every drop of blood is gone. If not for Alek’s resting body stretched out on the island, you’d never know what went down here.
Ani has been perched beside Alek’s bed for the past three days. She holds his hand, like she’s worried if she lets go, he might just slip away. She isn’t sleeping properly, and it’s been a struggle to get more than a bite or two of food into her. Every attempt to pull her from his bedside is met with the same stubborn glare and desperate plea, “He needs me.”
It’s fucking killing me.
Seeing Ani like this—drained of everything except clinging to the need to keep him alive—it’s breaking me in ways I can’t put into words.
Walking down the hall slowly, my shoes quiet against the hardwood, every step calculated so I don’t wake Ani if she is sleeping. I pause in the doorway. She grips Alek’s hand with her own, and her thumb strokes his knuckles in a rhythm that’s slow and rhythmic. Her head rests against the side of the mattress, her blonde hair cascading around her like a veil. Tears well along the lashes of her closed eyes.
I would do anything to take it away. Every pang of her fear. Every minute she imagines the worst and forces herself to sit with him anyway. I’d take on every ounce of her pain if I could. But I can’t. All I can do is stand here, silent and useless, and watch my wife bear the weight of her brother’s fragility.
Carefully, I step closer, not to make a sound that might startle her. My chest tightens when I hear her murmuring under her breath, “Please be okay.” Reaching over her, I drape a thin blanket around her shoulders. It’s lightweight, just enough to take the chill from her arms.
I press a gentle kiss to her temple. “He’s going to be okay, Ani,” I whisper softly, forcing confidence into my tone. “You’re going to see him wake up, and you’re going to be the one holding his hand when it happens. Trust me.” My lips linger , unable to pull myself from her.
Stepping back, I quietly exit the room, and close the door behind me, careful not to make a sound. The click of the latch is loud in the otherwise silent apartment. I exhale slowly, releasing some of the tension lodged in my chest as I turn down the hall.
