Then Sean twists, and there's a crack. Brennan goes limp.
Just like that, it's over.
The warehouse falls silent except for the ringing in my ears and the sound of my own ragged breathing. The last of Brennan's men are down—dead or gone. I don't know and don't care. Flynn is checking the perimeter, alert with his gun still raised.
Sean is looking at me.
He drops Brennan's body like it's nothing and crosses the distance between us in three long strides. He kneels in front ofme, and then his hands are on my face, tilting my head up, his eyes wild with fear.
"Maeve," he murmurs frantically. "Jesus Christ, Maeve, are you?—"
"I'm okay," I manage, even though I'm not sure that's entirely true. Everything hurts. My face is swelling where Brennan hit me, my wrists are bleeding, and my ribs ache with every breath. But I'm alive. Sean is here, and that's all that matters. "I'm okay."
His thumb brushes over my split lip, so gently it makes my chest ache. "We need to get out of here," he says, but he doesn't let go of me. "Can you walk?"
I nod, even though I'm not entirely sure. But I'll crawl out of here if I have to. All I want is to not be in this place any longer.
Sean helps me up, one arm around my waist and supporting most of my weight. Flynn appears at our side, his expression grim.
"All clear," he says shortly. "But we need to go. Now.”
The trip out of the warehouse is a blur. I'm aware of Sean's arm around me, of Flynn covering our exit, of the cold night air hitting my face as we emerge into the early morning light. Sean helps me to the car waiting a block away, and into the back seat with a gentleness that seems impossible from hands that just killed a man.
Flynn drives us back to the apartment. Sean sits beside me, his eyes never leaving my face. He doesn't speak, and neither do I. There's too much to say, and no words that feel adequate.
We don’t touch. I don’t know how I feel about what he said, about our argument… about much of anything at all. I’m in shock, and I can’t think straight. I definitely can’t figure out how I feel about this man, my husband, who broke my heart and then saved my life in the same night.
I'm shaking now, the adrenaline wearing off and leaving me cold and hollow. But I’m alive, and I hang onto that for now.I drift in and out of awareness, my body finally giving in to exhaustion and pain.
We stop finally, behind Sean’s apartment, and he opens the door, sliding out and holding it for me. “We’re home,” he says, and something about that makes my heart sink like a stone.
The truth is, I don’t know if anywhere feels like home for me any longer.
And I don’t know if I’ll ever have a home with this man that I’ve married, if I’ll ever be free of him… or if I want to be.
I step out of the car only for my knees to give way a second later.
I’m vaguely aware of Sean catching me and scooping me up into his arms, then carrying me into the apartment. He carries me all the way to the bathroom, setting me down gently on the edge of the tub as he starts to inspect me for injuries. I hear Flynn say something about keeping watch before the door clicks behind him, and I blink, my vision swimming back into focus.
Sean kneels in front of me, his hands hovering over my face like he's afraid to touch me, afraid I'll break. There's blood on his shirt, and his knuckles are split and raw. He looks like he's been through hell.
"Maeve," he says again, his voice a sorrowful rasp. "I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. I should have—I never should have let you leave, I should have?—"
"You came for me," I interrupt, my voice barely above a whisper. "You came."
Something flickers in his eyes. Pain, maybe. "Of course I came. Did you think I wouldn't?"
“I thought you would… eventually. But you came… so fast.” I have to stop, have to swallow past the lump in my throat. "You dropped everything. Even though I’m a burden.”
“Fuck, Maeve.” Sean runs a hand through his hair. “You’re not a burden. Okay?” He touches my chin, lifting my face gentlyso my eyes are on his. “You were at first. You were a punishment. I didn’t not wantyou; I didn’t want to be married to anyone. I definitely didn’t want an eighteen-year-old wife that I was afraid I’d break, someone too innocent to not be terrified by me, and someone who made me feel guilty as fucking hell every time I got hard looking at her.”
“You—”
“I thought if I pushed you away, it would make it easier on us both. But I was wrong. And I should have told you from the start. I’m sorry for that.”
I shake my head, exhaustion rolling over me. I don’t know how to make sense of all of this, what to say, or what to think. I’m too tired. “I shouldn’t have run off,” I mumble. “I shouldn’t have…” My eyes drift closed, and Sean taps my cheek gently with one finger.
“Open your eyes,leannan.I need to see if you have a concussion.”
