There’s a heat on my skin, a firm, steady weight anchoring me back to reality. Takes me a beat to figure it out—it’s a goddamn hand resting on my forehead.
My first instinct?
Reach for my gun. But I can’t move a damn thing. My body’s useless, limp, like somegovnothat’s been hit with a thousand volts.
I force my eyes open, but it’s all a blur of motion.
“Blyat,” I grunt.
“Shhh…”
The world slowly comes into focus: her face above mine, her eyes—chocolate pools of mystery—searching mine, her brows knitted.
Wren.
Fuck.
I move my gaze lower, and there they are—her lips.Plump and so fucking sexy, like a red flag to a raging bull.Lips I remember too well, lips that haunted me for three goddamn years.
Suka, she’s so damn close, she’s murmuring something under her breath. I can’t make it out, but her voice is soft—too soft for someone like her. What the fuck is happening here?
Her eyes snap to meet mine.
The warmth from her hand remains on my forehead, and it’s messing with my head more than the damn anesthesia.
“What…?” I rasp. “Why the hell are you here?” My voice is barely a growl. My throat’s dry, and it comes out rougher than I intended, but I don’t care.
She pulls back slightly, her eyes narrowing, and that worry vanishes, replaced by irritation. “Nice to see you, too, D.” Her hand snaps away from my forehead like I’m fucking radioactive. “I came to see if you really did cheat death or if you’re just too stubborn to die,” she growls from her spot. “Guess two bullets ain’t enough to stop you. You must be one tough bastard.”
My mouth opens, but no words come up, my gaze locking onto hers. She’s too close, her scent filling my senses, making it hard to think.
I grunt, “Takes more than two bullets to put this dog down. Disappointed?”
“Well, you look like shit,” she says.
I try to snort, but it comes out as a strangled grunt. “Yeah? You don’t look so hot yourself.”
Her lips twitch. “Well. You used to think that I’m hot…” She stops abruptly, eyes widening. She coughs, looking away.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” The words slip out, and I can’t stop the edge in my voice. My son. My flesh and blood and she kept him from me.
Her eyes snap to mine. “Fuck you, D.” She stands up, and I can tell she’s ready to bolt, to walk away, like always.
Butnotthis time.
I push myself up, ignoring the way my ribs scream, my hand shooting out to catch her wrist before she can turn. My grip’s tighter than I meant, but I don’t let go.
She twists her arm, her eyes flashing with anger. “You didn’t come back for me,” she snaps, her voice cracking with something raw. “Not once. Not until now.”
I see the vulnerability in her face—the way her jaw tightens like she regrets admitting it, like she doesn’t want me to know how much it hurt her.
“You thought I just… left?” My voice comes out rough, my throat burning. “I didn’t fucking leave you, Wren.”
She goes stiff as a fucking corpse. Her eyes snap back to mine, andblyat, it’s like looking into a storm. Anger, hurt, all that shit swirling in those dark pools. Her mouth opens, then shuts. I can see the gears turning in that pretty little head of hers, words piling up behind her teeth.
Suka, I know that look. She’s about to unleash hell, and part of me wants to see it. Wants her to spit fire and brimstone. At least then I’d know where we fucking stand.
But she hesitates, and that’s almost fucking worse.
