Page 19 of Saint’s Revenge

"Breathe," Lucas murmurs. "Small breaths. Don't fight it."

I focus on his voice. On the fact that he's here, he's touching me, he's alive and real and not a memory anymore.

"Almost done," he says. "Just a little more."

The tightness is overwhelming. Can't expand my chest. Can't take a full breath. Just shallow gasps that barely move air. Then it's over. He secures the bandage and the women help lower me back onto the bed.

Lucas's hand cups my face immediately. "You okay?"

"Yeah." The word comes out breathless. "I'm okay."

He doesn't look convinced. Just stares at me like he's searching for signs I'm lying.

"I trust you," I tell him. "I trust you with my life, Lucas. Always have."

He leans down and presses his forehead against mine, mindful of every injury. "I'm sorry," he whispers. "I'm so sorry for all of it. For leaving. For not coming back sooner. For not protecting you from him."

"You came back when it mattered." I reach up with weak fingers. Touch his face. "That's what counts."

"I killed him."

"I know."

"I looked him in the eyes and I pulled the trigger, and he was my brother, Riley. He was my brother and I—"

"And you freed him." My own voice breaks. "You freed him from what he'd become. From the monster he couldn't stop being. That's not murder, Lucas. That's mercy."

He closes his eyes. Tears slide down his cheeks. "Doesn't feel like mercy."

"I know. Right now it just feels like loss."

We stay like that for a moment. Just holding each other. Both crying. Both grieving for the boy who used to protect us.

The auburn-haired woman clears her throat softly. "She needs to rest. The morphine will help her sleep."

Lucas nods. Pulls back and wipes his face. Looks at me with red, exhausted eyes.

"Sleep," he tells me. "I'll be right here."

"Promise?"

"I promise. I'm not leaving again. Never again."

My eyes are already closing. The morphine and exhaustion pulling me under, Lucas's hand gripping mine.

The last thing I hear is his voice, soft and wrecked: "I've got you, Riley. I've got you."

Hours later…

When I wake up, the room is darker. Only one light on in the corner. I turn my head slightly, searching.

Lucas is there. Sitting in a chair next to the bed, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. Still covered in blood and soot. Still wearing his leather vest.

He's crying. Not loud. Not dramatic. Just silent tears running down his face while his shoulders shake.

"Lucas."

His head snaps up. He wipes his face roughly, trying to hide it, but his eyes are still red and wet.