After Bruno took his last breath, Maddox’s gaze found mine, his jaw clenched, eyes glimmering with remaining fury. “Are you all right?” His tone was guttural, as though getting words past his lips was a challenge.
I nodded, watching in fascination as he took a deep breath, clearly trying to get a hold of himself. His hands were clenched at his sides, his chest heaving, eyes wild.
It was only when a suit-clad man stepped onto the plane, his dark eyes scanning the space and landing on Bruno with disdain, that Maddox seemed to shake himself out of it.
He stepped toward me, collapsing at my feet, burying his face in my lap. “I’m okay,” I assured him, raking my fingers through his hair.
He looked up at me, his expression tortured. “I swore to you he’d never touch you again.”
“You saved me,” I replied passionately. “You took a bullet for me, honey.” At that, my gaze swung to his blood-soaked shoulder. “Please tell me you saw a doctor,” I demanded in horror.
“Fuck no,” he clipped. “You think I was gonna waste time with that shit?”
“Babe,” I protested, worried now.
“We’ll go now,” he assured me. “I’m sure you want to get the fuck off this plane. And I want you and the babies looked at.”
I did in fact want to get the fuck off the plane.
He stood up, helping me to my feet. His thumb swept over my split lip, regret clear on his handsome face.
I took his hand in mine. “I’m okay. We’re okay,” I amended.
“We’re gonna go make sure.” He guided me toward the exit. “Carpino, club is in your debt.” He addressed the suit-clad man.
Carpino smiled. “It was my pleasure. I just wish you’d left me something to do.” He looked down at Bruno, clearly annoyed he hadn’t been able to contribute to his death.
“Told you he was mine,” Maddox clipped.
Carpino nodded good-naturedly. “Clearly.” His dark eyes turned to me, kind despite his predatory countenance. “Miss Rossi. I hope we meet again someday under better circumstances.”
I nodded absently, confused as to what was going on and shell-shocked by the day. Maddox towed me gently from the plane and to his waiting truck.
Axel and Gunner stood, feet planted, arms braced, watching raptly as we neared.
“I’m drivin’.” Axel declared, his eyes on his son, bright with worry.
“I’m fine,” Maddox gritted out.
Axel’s eyes swept between the two of us. “You want to risk passing out while you’re drivin’?”
“Please, Mad. He’s right,” I pressed quietly. Now that I’d gotten a better look at him, he looked pale. He’d likely lost a good amount of blood.
After a moment, he relented with a nod, guiding me into the cab of his truck.
I absently noted Bruno’s men’s bodies sprawled across the tarmac as we pulled away.
“It’s over.” I breathed in relief. That weight I’d carried for as long as I could remember—since my parents had been murdered—it was gone.
“It’s over,” Maddox agreed, wrapping his hand over mine.
****
“Me and the babies are fine,” I assured Maddox for what felt like the hundredth time as I sat next to his exam table at the hospital.
Neither of us had wanted to linger in Vegas, choosing instead to make the journey back home, Maddox’s wound wrapped in a make-shift tourniquet.
Nearly the entire club was in the waiting room despite it being well past midnight. Maddox had kept them at bay, knowing how exhausted I was, and though they were like family I was grateful for the space and to be alone with Maddox. Well, as alone as we could be while Emmie stitched him up.
