"Algerone?" There was uncertainty in his voice. "Are you real? Or did Shaw make me dream you too?"
"I'm here."
"Good." His head lolled against my shoulder. "I'm tired of pretending not to love you."
The words hit me like a punch to the gut. Thirty-two years, and he'd never said it. The drug had stripped his defenses, leaving him raw and honest in my arms.
He'd touched me every day for eighteen months. Bathed my broken body. Changed my bandages. Forced my ruined leg through physical therapy while I cursed him and shoved him away. He'd seen me at my weakest, my most pathetic, and he'd never flinched. Never complained.
I'd given him nothing in return. Not a single touch that wasn't born of necessity.
"Shaw knows about the boys," Maxime said, words slurring but his mind still working. "Has photos. Evidence of the Volkov connection. Said he would use RICO prosecution, federal charges. We need to—"
"The boys will be fine."
"No." Some of his usual authority pushed through the drug. "You don't understand. He has everything, Algerone. Financial records, surveillance footage, witness statements. He's built a case that could destroy them." He paused to fight the fog. "I reviewed the documents before he drugged me. It's substantial."
"The boys will be fine," I repeated against his ear. "Shaw's mistake was thinking they were leverage instead of weapons."
"My fault." His head fell back against my shoulder. "I kept them from you. Should have told you, but... I was terrified you'd choose them. Over me. Over what we built together. Selfish, but there it is."
As if anything could displace him.
"You protected them tonight from Shaw," I said. "That matters."
"Had to." He turned, trying to focus on my face. "They're yours. Everything you love becomes sacred to me. Even when it hurts. Even when they hate me for what I did."
His hand found mine, fingers locking together. "Twenty years I watched you search for them. Twenty years I knew where they were and said nothing." His voice broke. "Worst thing I ever did. Not just to you. To them. But I couldn't... I couldn't let you go."
"I was cruel." The admission tasted like ash. "You kept me alive, and I punished you for seeing me weak."
"You needed to be angry at someone." His fingers tightened on mine. "I've always been good at absorbing your anger." He shuddered. "I would have taken care of you forever," he whispered. "Even if you never touched me again. Even if you hated me until you died."
"Why?"
"Because you were alive. Because I could hear you breathing. Because when I helped you walk, I could feel your heart beating under my hands." A pause. "I thought I'd lost you. When the explosion happened, I thought—"
He couldn't finish.
I pulled him closer. His skin burned against mine like a brand.
This man. This broken, brilliant, treacherous creature. He'd betrayed me more completely than any enemy, stolen twenty years of my children's lives, and lied to my face for decades.
And when Shaw threatened what was mine, Maxime had chosen pain over betrayal. He’d protected my sons knowing his sacrifice might never earn forgiveness.
"Shaw touched you. Where? I need to know where."
"Just my wrist when he leaned forward." Memory surfaced through the fog. "And his lips. His lips on mine."
"Show me."
He lifted his wrist with trembling fingers. I could see it clearly, could imagine those manicured fingers pressing against skin that belonged to me. I brought his wrist to my mouth and bit down hard enough to leave marks that would last longer than Shaw's touch and deep enough to erase any trace of the other man.
He gasped and pressed harder against me.
"The makeup," I growled against his skin. "I want it gone. All of it."
"Yes." He tilted his head to give me access. "Please. I hate hiding your marks."
