Page 10 of Fall Before Her Throne

Why had he come to us? What did he want? Would he stay, or would he run off on his own again, like he’d been doing his entire fucking life?

“You’re an idiot,” I said, even though he couldn’t hear me. “But at least you’re alive.”

I sighed. The best I could do for now was get him changed, clean his wounds again, and patch him up. Leona could decide what to do with him later.

With a frown, I assessed his current state. Rips and tears marred his button-down shirt. Slowly, I undid the rest of the remaining buttons and then pulled it off to a chorus of his groans. His pants were dirty and bloody and also needed replacing, but I’d deal with his chest and face first since it seemed like the worst of him. I had a couple of extra clothes I’d thrown into my go-bag that would fit him.

He had cuts all up and down his arms, plus that jagged gash on his ribs. His face was bruised and swollen, along with multiple contusions on his chest. It also looked like he’d run into the wrong side of a knife.

What had gone down between him and the Camorra?

“Caspian,” Obi said from behind me. “I brought the med kit for stitches.”

“Hey. Yeah, he’s still bleeding pretty badly.”

He tilted his head to the side and crossed his arms over his chest. “Would you like me to do it, or would you?”

I ran a hand through my sweaty hair. Fuck. He used to be my best friend. I’d stitched him before, and I could do it again. “I will.”

He nodded solemnly, then helped me undo his bandages and position his arm right so I could get at the gash first. I grimaced as I prepped and cleaned the skin. The blade had torn the skin to shreds, but he was lucky it didn’t go into his ribs. Whoever did it was clearly trying to get his heart.

Obi video-called Willow, and she talked me through how to get the stitches around the wound. Mine weren’t as tight or clean as Obi’s usually were, but they’d do. A few other lacerations needed some butterfly bandages, and we’d just have to wait to see how the swelling around his ribs and face did. He’d be bruised to all hell.

Max slept through all of it, only waking up once to groan and swat at me weakly, and then pass back out. The guys stopped by a few times, and I could have sworn Ryuji only looked into the room to see if Max had perished or not, and left with a disgruntled huff when he saw the man still clung to life.

When Obi helped me roll him to the side to get the final, clean gauze wrapped around his chest secure so he didn’t accidentally pull it off while he slept, we glimpsed his back, and we both froze.

Obi rolled him onto his stomach. We stared at his back.

Shit.

Silence stretched between us.

“Did you know?” Obi asked quietly. He crossed his arms over his chest with a frown.

I shook my head as I tried to process this. “Nope.”

When was the last time I saw Max shirtless? Or in anything less than a T-shirt, which would have covered…all of this?

“It is a⁠—”

“I can see what it is.” Despite the gauze wrappings crossing over his back, the image was crystal clear.

My mind was running at light speed, trying to make sense of it. I’d left Max’s journal behind at the penthouse. In all the chaos, I hadn’t thought to grab it from where I’d left it in the library after my third read-through.

All the secrets. All the lies. They all connected back to this.

Why didn’t he tell me? When⁠—

“Caspian,” Obi murmured. Gently, his hand gripped my shoulder.

My head snapped up, and I met his gaze. I suddenly realized it was the third time he’d called my name. “What?”

“She should see this.”

My throat went tight like I’d swallowed a rock, and it got lodged in my windpipe. “Yeah. She should.”

“You understand what this means, don’t you?” His tone was careful as he watched Max’s sleeping form.