Page 30 of Healed

And then he closed his eyes once more. I gripped the wheel tighter, staring straight ahead until the road blurred. I blinked quickly, refusing to cry, because if I started now, I wasn’t sure I would ever stop, and I did not fancy crashing Dante’s precious car because my feelings had decided to make a dramatic appearance.

Neither of us said anything for a while after that.

The silence wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t empty either. It was full of everything we hadn’t touched. Everything waiting for us. Every conversation we had spent years avoiding, every truth that had been twisted out of shape, every apology that wouldn’t be enough but needed saying anyway.

And beneath all of it was a burning question. Something I already knew in my heart, but I needed to hear him say it.

I looked at him again.

He was fading. I could see it now. The pauses were getting longer, his breathing deeper, his body heavier against the seat. He was fighting it, because of course he was. Vienna would argue with death itself if he thought it was trying to tell him what to do.

And then he would irritate him with some stupid joke and a sarcastic comment, and Death would likely send him straight back into the land of the living.

“Luke?”

“Hm?” he murmured.

“Are you still with me?”

“Always.”

I let out a shaky breath and kept driving.

Always.

How I wished that could be true.

The turn for the Devil’s compound was getting closer. I knew it was. I could feel the shift in the road, the old familiarity creeping in despite everything.

This had once been my home, as much as the Riders had been home.

This had been my secret sanctuary. The place where my heart resided.

Where it still was, truth be told.

I could admit that to myself if no one else.

Because in quiet corners, stolen rooms, the back of Vienna’s bike and the spaces between club wars, I had found pieces of myself there I hadn’t found anywhere else.

And yet, this time I was returning with an ocean of tears between us, and a lifetime of memories neither of us wanted to remember.

We were not foolish kids anymore, hoping for a happy ending to our tragic story.

We were adults who had already lived a sad beginning, middle, and what we thought was our end.

Where did we go from here?

“Can I ask you something, Luke? Before we arrive.”

“Hit me,” he mumbled, his lips barely moving.

I paused, not quite knowing how to frame the question, but knowing I needed an answer. I needed to know before we entered the chaos of his clubhouse. Before his brothers took over, and we were separated by medical supplies and endless questions.

“Where is she? What happened to my mum?”

He didn’t respond. My eyes flew to the mirror, focusing on the steady rise and fall of his chest.

“Brilliant,” I muttered to myself. “Now you fall asleep. Fucking fantastic.”