Page 128 of Bleed Me

I understood it was Art. It helped knowing he was there to catch her.

I whispered to her, “I’m sorry. For everything.”

The nurses looked at each other, then walked away, claiming they would be right back.

Delilah, safe in Art’s embrace, peered up to him. “W-What is happening?”

I had never seen such depth nor understanding in one of Art’s expressions. Not like that. In those few seconds, I understood just how he got his road name. His blue eyes flashed with wisdom and bravery as he quietly spoke to her. “Your guardians guarded, Delilah. We did our very best to protect your heart and soul. You may hate us, and rightfully so, but I swear, we listened to your every word. You asked for him to be free. Your guilt, as misled as it is, was also something we tried to honor. This—letting him live and giving him a place to heal from his past—was how we fulfilled your wish.” Tears fell from Art’s eyes as he choked out another whisper, “You saved him, Delilah.”

Slower than humans are possibly meant to move, Delilah pulled from his embrace. “At college,” she pointed to him, “you were there, too,” her eyes glazing over as shock set in, “protecting me… from him.”

Staring at me, as if not sure I was truly lying in a hospital bed, Viola went to her best friend. Blindly, she reached and took Delilah in her arms. “Your ashes… down a river.” She looked at Art. “You were there.”

The way Delilah clung to V, even with her large belly between them, caused me to hear the blood pumping in my ears. I could hear everything. I think I was epically aware of all the havoc my life had caused to so many.

“Viola?” asked a numb Delilah.

“Don’t let me go, Pretty D. I have no idea what is happening, but you have a baby to breathe for and a husband to fight for right now. And my husband is almost here with Bailey.”

“V,” called out her brother. “Can I come with you?”

The President of a deadly MC asking permission for anything was a rarity.

A woman appearing more threatening than him, even more so.

Viola looked at Diesel with fire in her blue eyes that matched his. “Yes, brother. Why don’t I keep you by my side, so no more knives can be stabbed in my back?”

As she started leading Delilah away, from the corner of my room, the voice of my soul cried out, “Viola.”

Viola hesitantly turned to face my wife. With her hand over her mouth, V whispered, “No. Not you, too.”

Justice, tears dripping from her face, clutched my wet vest to her chest. “He is my husband and the father of my two children. I would never ask a woman to hold a secret that could affect her sanity. I know all too well what that does to you. But, if there is any way to find forgiveness—”

The way Viola’s face paled told me she understood my wife knew everything.

“—enough to let him walk away, he will never return. I give you my word. You know that means everything to me.”

Angrily, Viola gestured to me as if Justice’s word no longer mattered.

Justice shook her head. “I never lied about him. You simply didn’t know, and I told you no different.” Viola’s lip curled in disgust, but Justice held up her hand. “Please, if my word is not enough, then know this… He is the one who pulled the boxer from the fire.”

Delilah gasped and finally dared to look at me—at my hands.

“My husband knew there would be grave repercussions for not following a direct order from a President,” her voice cracked, “but refused to let Maverick die. For Delilah.”

Delilah’s eyes raced to hers. Justice nodded, wringing my cut, and crying even harder. “Art is right. You saved him. Don’t let it all be in vain.” Justice gazed at her pregnant belly. “We need him… his children and me.” Their eyes met again. “Just like you and your baby need your husband.”

There was nothing left to say, so my wife, my brothers, and I watched Delilah, Viola, and Diesel and his Ryders walk away.