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ChapterNine
NICOLI
The door clicks shut behind us, and Alexius whips around to face me. “You good?”
“Yeah.” I glance at my wristwatch. “It’s almost midnight, and we still haven’t heard anything from Maximo.”
“If this Briana woman is out there, no matter what it takes, Maximo will find her.”
“I know. But it’ll be really fucking nice if he can find her faster.”
“Hey. Listen,” he starts, shrugging off his black trench coat. “At the risk of sounding like a cinnamon roll—”
“For the love of God, rather not say it.”
“Go to your wife, man. Get into bed with her and just be with her? Clear your head of everything but her.”
I lean my head back before cranking it from side to side as tension pulls tautly at my muscles. “It’s kind of hard when your wife is the center of everything, you know?”
“I can’t imagine what it’s like for you.” He places a hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “What I do know is that everything has to come to an end sometime. And so will this. Get some sleep. You need it.”
I nod. “Yeah. Thanks.”
I navigate the darkened hallways, my footsteps echoing off the polished floors, feeling an oppressive silence all around me. We haven’t been home much lately, and it’s like these halls have lost their familiarity. Like ghosts haunt them now—ghosts of a life we lost decades ago even though it’s only been months. Weeks. Days. Minutes. Seconds.
I would give anything to go back in time and appreciate the moments of sheer happiness more—moments that weren’t overshadowed by darkness.
Pushing the bedroom door open, I see her there, my wife, lying on her side, the sheets draped over her hourglass curves, her soft breathing evident in the quiet room. The sight of her like this makes my heart ache as if my love for her is poison. She looks so innocent, so vulnerable, and for a moment, everything else fades away. The bodies we left behind tonight and the blood on my hands are inconsequential compared to her. When I’m with her, it’s so easy to pretend like I’m a good man, that there isn’t a vengeful beast wreaking havoc in my blood.
I close the door behind me and pad softly across the carpeted floor to take a shower and attempt to wash all my sins away before wrapping a towel around my waist and softly walking back into the room.
Mira stirs but doesn’t wake as I go to stand at the side of the bed, her breathing even and deep. The moonlight filtering through the curtains cast a soft glow on her golden hair, fanned out on the pillow beneath her, and the sight of her takes my goddamn breath away.
I reach out to brush the hair from her face gently, my fingertips trailing along her cheekbone. God, she’s beautiful. She’s exquisite. Not even the scar Micah left on her face can take away from her stunning features. I tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear, my heart pounding against my ribs. There will never come a day that I feel deserving of her. Every morning when I wake up with her next to me, I have to reach out and touch her to make sure she’s real—that she’s really there. That she’s mine.
Will she ever know how much I love her? Will she ever truly understand the depths of my adoration, my desire, my need for her?
She moves, slipping her arm from beneath the sheets, and I frown when I see the bandage on her arm.
As if sensing my presence, she slowly opens her eyes, blinking sleepily up at me. “Nicoli?” she mumbles, her eyelids fluttering open to reveal those bright green eyes that always seem to pierce right through me. “You’re home. I tried to wait up for you.”
“I know, baby. It’s late.”
“Everything okay?”
“What happened to your arm?”
“Oh. I had an unfortunate run in with a flower vase.”
“You what?”
“It’s late, Nicoli. Come to bed.”
“In a minute.”
She props herself up on her elbow. “Are you okay?”
“I’m sorry, Hummingbird.”
