Page 217 of Nyx

Her concern wasn't about her ex-husband.

It was for me.

I can't think of the last time someone focused on what was best for me without having their own needs swirled into the mix.

She was putting me first, knowing that if I beat that man to death, I'd go to jail. She didn't want that life for me.

I stopped for her, but now I have to keep worrying about Graham and what other damage he can do. I know it's going to eat me alive.

"Nyx."

My name on her lips has to be the equivalent of angels singing in the heavens.

My heart races at the sight of her, and the sting of pain in my knuckles fades. The only thing in life that exists is her standing a few feet away from me.

I scan every inch of her, my rage threatening to bubble over when I see the bandage on her neck where that fucker held his knife to her throat. Once again, it makes me regret stopping before I finished the fucking job.

"Can you take me home?" she whispers, her eyes dropping to her hands as if she can't seem to look at the monster in front of her.

I stand, unsure of what her lack of reaction means. She doesn't jolt or take a step back, but that could be more about nervous system overload than anything else. I can't let the idea that maybe she isn't afraid of me, despite what she witnessed I'm capable of, take over. Juliet isn't the type of woman who can love a monster, even if she isn't afraid of what I might do to her.

"Yes," I tell her.

"My car," she says.

"They'll take care of it," I assure her. "Do you want to go back to your apartment or the clubhouse?"

I don't know if she's ready to be alone, but she might want a little distance from everything now that Whitmore is in custody.

"The clubhouse," she answers, her eyes searching mine as if she's concerned about my thoughts on it.

"Okay," I tell her as I take a step closer. "We can take one of the SUVs in the parking garage, or we can ride my motorcycle."

Her eyes drift to the bandages on my hands before she looks back up at my face.

"Let's take one of the SUVs. Your hands look painful. Can't imagine what it would feel like gripping the handlebars."

I nod, because explaining that I'd feel every pain imaginable to do something she wants doesn't seem like it has a place in this moment.

I step up beside her, moving my hand forward to indicate that we can take the sidewalk to the parking garage rather than walking back through the hospital.

I have a million things to say to her, a million questions to ask, but each time I formulate my words in my head, they don't seem right, as if it would sound more like an interrogation or a one-sided argument about her choices.

I've never wanted to control this woman, but her decisions put her in a situation that could've ended very badly for her.

One woman is dead, and she could've very easily been Whitmore's second victim.

Despite what I saw when I rode up on my motorcycle, the way she was fighting him, I knew that Whitmore would've eventually gotten the upper hand. He would've taken her from the parking garage, which decreased our chances of ever finding her. He had no goodwill in his actions. He planned to hurt her until she finally succumbed to her injuries. I don't care if the man is delusional and thinks he loves her or that she still loves him. It would've always ended in her death.

The idea of her no longer walking this earth makes my feet stumble, but thankfully, Juliet seems too lost in her head to notice.

The parking garage is still bustling with people moving around.

Some are taking notes while they evaluate the scene. Others are standing around, talking and pointing to different areas. A crime scene technician is taking photos.

Thankfully, Kayla's body is at least covered with a dark sheet, so Juliet doesn't have to see it.

I search the area, looking for someone who would have keys to an SUV we could use, and see Kincaid standing to the side talking with Farmington PD Detective Colton Matthews.