I nod because I can’t speak past the lump in my throat.
My brothers.
My family.
They’ve been holding vigils in the waiting room since we got here, taking shifts, making sure I’m not alone even when I barely register their presence.
It’s what we do.
What family does.
“Victoria called Marley,” Sin says carefully, watching my reaction.
My chest tightens. “You shouldn’t have.”
“You need her, Nitro,” Victoria states like it’s an obvious fact.
“She’s pissed at me. She asked for space—”
“And she’ll want to know about this.” Victoria’s voice is gentle but firm. “Trust me. Whatever anger she’s carrying, it’s not bigger than this.”
I want to argue.
I want to tell them that Marley shouldn’t have to see me like this, broken, helpless, and covered in soot.
That I’ve already fucked things up enough without dragging her into my nightmare.
But the selfish part of me, the part that’s been aching for her since she walked away, wants her here so badly it physically hurts.
“W-when?” My voice cracks on the word.
“An hour ago. She’s on her way.”
I close my eyes, fresh burns of pain lancing through them as moisture leaks out.
I don’t know if it’s from the smoke damage or something more profound.
The minutes crawl by, and Victoria talks quietly about something, the club, logistics, I don’t know. I tune it all out. My world has narrowed to Queenie’s hand in mine and the hiss-click of the ventilator.
Then the door opens again.
And I feel her presence before I look up to see her.
Marley.
Her red hair is pulled back in a messy bun, face free of makeup, wearing yoga pants and an oversized sweatshirt. She looks as if she got dressed in thirty seconds and ran out the door.
She’s the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.
Our eyes meet across the room, and whatever anger or hurt was between us evaporates. Just dissolves like it never existed in the first place.
All that’s left is her, and the way she’s looking at me as though her heart is breaking.
“Oh, Nitro,” she whispers.
Victoria and Sin slip out quietly, giving us space, and then Marley crosses the room. She doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t ask if it’sokay. She pulls up the other chair and sits beside me, her hand finding mine where it rests on Queenie’s.
“I’m here,” she says softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”
