Page 128 of Vows of Ruin

Chapter Forty-Seven

Wrenley

I wake to the soft weight of something warm pressed against my side. Hugo. His breathing is steady, heavy, his giant head resting against my hip like he’s afraid to stop touching me. When I shift, he lifts his head just enough to look at me, eyes wide and glossy, before pressing back into me with a quiet whine.

The room is dim. Our room. The familiar scent of cedar, laundry soap, and the faint ghost of smoke lingering in the air, but it’s not the same kind of smoke. Not his. My vision clears in slow pieces. Doc sits on the edge of the bed, fingers wrapped around my wrist, counting my pulse. Her expression is tight, tired, and relieved. She exhales when my eyes focus on her.

“There you are,” she murmurs. “You scared the hell out of all of us.”

I swallow, throat dry. Doc gives me a small, soft smile, one of the few she reserves for moments like this. “You’re going to be fine. That panic attack was a lot to take, but your vitals are steady.”

I nod, though my head feels heavy, my chest hollow.

She releases my wrist gently and stands. “Take it easy. I’ll be back to check on you soon.”

“Thank you,” Max says quietly from somewhere near the foot of the bed.

I turn my head. He’s pacing, running a hand through his hair in that jerky, restless way he only does when he’s barely holding himself together. The moment Doc steps out, he moves, crossing the room in two strides and dropping to sit on the edge of the mattress, close enough that our knees touch.

“Sparrow,” he breathes, voice cracking around the edges. “Are you alright?”

I blink up at him. Up close, he looks wrecked. Eyes red-rimmed. Jaw clenched tight. Shoulders bunched like he’s holding the entire world there.

“I was hoping it was all a bad dream,” I whisper. “But the look on your face tells me it wasn’t.”

Max’s breath shudders. He reaches out, slowly, like he’s afraid a sudden movement might break me, and cups the side of my face with a trembling hand. “No,” he says softly. “It wasn’t.”

A cold wave rolls through my body. My fingers curl into the blankets. “Max…” my voice fractures. “Tell me he didn’t leave.”

He closes his eyes.That alone is the answer. My heart sinks through the bed, through the floor, through the earth itself. It aches so loud I swear I can hear it. Broken. Crushed. Wrong. Max opens his eyes again, meeting mine with a grief that matches my own.

“I’m so sorry, Sparrow.” He whispers with tears in his eyes. “He’s gone.”

Hugo whines beside me, nudging my hand with his nose, as if trying to bring me back. But I feel myself drifting again. Not into unconsciousness. Into the truth. The horrible, suffocating truth. Liam left. He walked away. Alone. He did it to save me.

Max’s words echo through my skull like they’re ricocheting off the inside of my bones. He’s gone. Gone. Gone. The word doesn’t land on my skin. It sinks deeper. Into muscle into marrow. Into the hollow space behind my heart, where I kept him safe. Something inside me folds inward. And keeps folding.

“Wrenley,” Max whispers, thumb brushing my cheek. “Stay with me, Sparrow. Look at me.”

I try. I think I try. The world blurs around the edges, smears like wet paint running down a canvas. Max’s face dissolves into color and light and shadow, slipping away even though he’s inches from me.

My breath goes shallow. Not fast. Not panicking. Just… shallow. Like my body doesn’t care enough to do it right.

Max’s hand tightens on my jaw. “No. No, Sparrow, don’t you do this. Don’t you disappear on me, too.”

Disappearing. That’s exactly what it feels like. Like I’m slipping backward through myself, falling into a dark, soft place where everything is quiet. Numb. Muted. A place I haven’t been since the night Max was taken and my screams tore the world apart.

I blink. But my eyes don’t really focus. Everything feels distant, muffled behind a thick wall of cotton and glass. Max’s arms wrap around me and pull me to his chest. He holds me like Liam did that night, back when he was still Reaper, tight, protective, terrified.

Except this time, Liam isn’t here to share the weight. Max rocks me slightly, his breathing stuttering. “It's okay. I’ve got you. I’ve got you, Sparrow. Stay with me. Please.”

The door opens softly. Margot’s voice. Low, careful, and afraid. “Max… how is she?”

“She's dissociating,” Max murmurs, brushing his fingers through my hair. “Was this how it was when I was gone? Worse maybe?”

A pause. “Oh my god, yea, it was like this.” Margot breathes. Footsteps shift closer. “Wrenley? Hey. It’s me.”

I hear the words, but they feel like they’re coming from underwater. Margot kneels in front of me, her face blurring in and out. “Wren… look at me. Come on. Please.”