The only one who’s ever made me question what’s right and wrong.
Xavier Donovan doesn’t know the meaning of morally grey. He embodies the idea of morally pitch black, the shade darker than a crow’s wings or a grim reaper’s cloak.
“Promise me,” he demands.
I look up at him, my gaze locked on his, and I know, deep in my bones, that there's no turning back now. “I promise.”
Xavier lets out a long, shuddering breath, and his grip on my throat loosens. “Thank you,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. He kisses me again, his lips gentle this time. “Thank you.” He places a kiss on each of my eyelids. “Thank you.”
He pulls back, his gaze roaming over my face, his expression intense and possessive. “I love you, Delilah. Don’t ever forget that.”
I reach up and cup his cheek, feeling the stubble of his facial hair under my palm. “I won’t. I love you, too.”
A knock at the door has me jumping in surprise, and I catch Xavier’s jaw tightening.
“Come in,” he says.
The door swings open, revealing a doctor and a set of nurses behind him. “It’s time for your surgery, Mrs. Donovan.”
I look at Xavier, quirking a brow. “Mrs. Donovan?”
He smirks at me. “Just practicing for the real thing.”
A wave of heat washes over me, followed by a chill. There might not be a real thing. Not unless the transplant is successful.
“I’m Dr. Ellis, and I’ll be performing your surgery,” he says to us. “Dr. Laine recommended me.”
Xavier looks at the surgeon. “I need to speak with you.” Then he leans down and presses a kiss to my forehead, his lips soft and warm against my skin. “I’ll be right here waiting,” he murmurs. “Don’t worry, little raptor. Everything is going to be okay.”
I’m not sure which one of us he’s trying to convince, but I nod while hoping that this isn’t the last time I see him.
Chapter 49
XAVIER
Under the lights of the hospital corridor, I pace back and forth, each step a manifestation of the worry inside me. Delilah’s life rests in the hands of the surgeon who’s working to transplant a new heart. One that she tried to reject. It’s fortunate she submitted to my demands, or else I would’ve forced her. Through sabotage, coercion, or whatever was necessary.
My girl is strong, a fighter, and her determination is admirable, but the circumstances are beyond her. They are beyond both of us. I’m not ready to face a future where she’s not at my side. Her near refusal haunts me.
I should’ve told her that her foster brother was alive to give her an incentive to live, but the risk was too great. I trust Declan with my life and Delilah’s, or else we wouldn’t be here, but I’ve seen the things my father is willing to do to mete out punishment. If he finds out that Declan hid me from him in this hospital, Edward Donovan will kill him.
I stop to look out the window, my thoughts centered around Benjamin. He’s still out there, underground with nothing butMREs to eat. Meanwhile, I’m standing here, a part of me dying every minute that I’m away from Delilah, unable to do anything to help her.
But Icanhelp her brother.
With an exhale, I push away from the window and head toward the exit. The surgeon said the procedure will take hours, hours in which I can do nothing except wait, worry, and wonder about my girl. She’d want me to take care of Benjamin instead of standing here, ready to kill someone at the very hint of her surgery not going well.
The ride to the university is a blur, my thoughts never straying from my little raptor. I run my fingers over the firearm on my hip, then my pocket where June’s phone rests. It’s not as sophisticated as mine, but I couldn’t risk my father tracking me through it. It’s in my dorm room, along with Delilah’s.
Although June was clearly scared to talk to me, the bride gave her cell phone and her word to call me if there was any news concerning Delilah. I can see why Declan cares for June.
I park the jeep behind the old maintenance building, the familiarity of my surroundings offering no comfort. This entrance to the tunnels is hidden behind a set of water heaters. I pull a series of levers disguised as switches in an electrical panel, and the door, old and rusted, screeches against the concrete floor.
The air smells of mold and damp earth as I turn on my flashlight and begin my descent, pistol in hand. The steps are slick with moisture, and I take them slowly, mindful of every move. The trek to the secret room will take longer from here, but I can’t risk going back to the fraternity, not with my father on the hunt.
As I navigate the familiar, eerie pathways, memories flood my mind. The times Delilah and I explored these tunnels, herlaughter echoing off the walls, her hand in mine. It feels like a lifetime ago.
I push the memories down, focusing on the present. Eventually, I reach the tunnel where the air grows noticeably cooler, a sure sign I’m almost at my destination. Reaching the nondescript section of wall that serves as the door, I pause, my hands searching the cold, damp pipes until they find the one that serves as a makeshift lever. With a firm twist, there’s a soft click of the mechanism unlocking, and I push against the stone. It swings silently inward on well-oiled hinges.
