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If this is the Devil’s idea of torture, to make me think my men are here, just to have them torn away from me over and over again, he’s done a pretty good job of finding my perfect hell loop, I’ll give him that.
A hand touches my cheek, and it feels so familiar. Too familiar almost. I’m afraid to open my eyes. I don’t want this to be some big cosmic joke. I don’t want to allow my heavy eyes to open and be faced with some gross demon and the Devil chuckling in the corner.
Do you think the Devil chuckles?
Doesn’t seem like a very devilish thing to do, but then again laughing at the expense of others definitely is.
“Something funny, angel?”
I drag in a painful breath and prepare myself for disappointment. I’ve had a lifetime of being let down, so surely this one time won’t be any worse, even if I am waking up dead.
The harsh lights almost make me drop my eyes closed as soon as they crack open, but I push through. God, this really is Hell. The antiseptic smell. The rhythmic beeping. The lighting situation. The Devil really knows what he’s doing down here.
“There she is.” Wyatt’s voice penetrates my praise for the Devil, and I roll my head toward the sound, but nothing prepares me for seeing his messy dirty-blonde hair and deep blue eyes.
I look the other way, my heart beating hard in my chest with a mixture of fear and hope, something I’ve so rarely allowed myself over the years and find Elias on my other side, his hands wrapped around mine. “Hey there, little one.”
Tears fall against my cheeks, and I don’t try to stop them. It would be pointless. Because either I’m dead, and I’m in heaven, or I’m alive, and the men I love saved me.
“Don’t cry, baby,” Wyatt rumbles, his fingers moving carefully over my cheek, wiping the tears away as they fall. “It’s all going to be okay now.”
I want to know so badly what happened after I passed out. There are so many holes in my memory from when I lost consciousness, but right now all I want is to stare at them, to tell myself over and over again that they’re mine, and nothing is ever going to change that.
The bed shifts, and it takes me too long to realize Elias is climbing onto the small mattress beside me. He carefully pulls my body into his and as soon as my back meets his front, there’s nothing I can do to stop the tears from falling.
“We’ve got you, little one. No one is ever going to take you away from us again,” he promises, and I believe every single word.
They came for me.
They saved me.
And they’re here, comforting me.
I knew from the age of fifteen that I would marry a man I didn’t love, and I’d accepted the fact I would never know what true love was.
But somehow I got lucky enough to feel a love like no other for two men who have given me everything since that very first night.
“Get some rest, angel.” Wyatt brushes his fingers down my cheek carefully before resting his face on the pillow beside mine. “We’ll be here when you wake up.”
CHAPTERSEVENTY-ONE
LEIGHTON
“Ican walk, you know.” I roll my eyes as Elias carries me through the house.
It’s been a few days since they brought me home, and they haven’t let me lift a finger for myself. If I wasn’t so grateful to have them back perhaps I would find it annoying, but it’s actually endearing as hell.
I thought they were over the top after I showed up here the night Jason beat me, but this is a whole new level. They can’t let me out of their direct line of sight, to the point I’ve had to get used to peeing with the door open for their peace of mind.
But honestly I don’t really like being away from them either, especially with everything going on outside this house at the moment.
The day after I woke up I made a public statement from my hospital bed. I shared what happened the night with Jack and the deal my father made with Jason’s. I explained how my relationship with my ex-fiancé turned violent and how I fled from him because I was afraid for my life. And then I spoke about how I was kidnapped and forced to walk down the aisle to a man I knew would hurt me.
I outed my father for his plans for the city, and all the things I overheard while living with Jason. And the only false part of the whole story is how I escaped. How I broke my own wrist and made a break for it when they were distracted after they received word the cops were onto them.
And for the first time in my life, I’m free.
My mother is dragging me through the mud in the press, calling me every name under the sun, accusing me of lying about it all, but the evidence the Legion were able to drag up makes any claim she makes meaningless.
