Ruthless Knights (The Dark Elite 2)

Fear. Anger. Sadness.

They’re not just his emotions though. They’re mine too. Not only do I feel what he feels, I bear the weight of having done this all already. My own feelings of grief are resurfacing, triggered by the events of the day and adding to the dangerously volatile emotions that already clog my chest.

He pulls me into his bedroom, slamming the door behind us. The curtains are closed, and only a flicker of moonlight penetrates the room, leaving us robed in murky shadows. He presses me back against the closed door, his large frame looming over mine, boxing me in. His hands come to rest on either side of my head, and for a moment, his own head droops. I can hear his sharp breaths as he drags in air through his nostrils, bracing himself against the door.

Then, finally, he looks up at me. But it’s not the Hale I know gazing at me. It’s not even the grief-stricken Hale I can sense hiding inside him, but a wild, animalistic beast. His lips curl back and his nostrils flare as he narrows his eyes at me. I can hear his heart and my heart thundering to the same beat, a tangible pulse that hangs over the room until he opens his mouth and speaks.

“Tell me you had nothing to do with this.”

I blink. My thoughts from downstairs earlier flood back through my head—my worries that I’d been the target of the shooting, not Damian. Or that Damian’s murder was somehow connected to whoever tried to kill me.

But that’s not what Hale is talking about. He’s asking if I planned this.

“No. I didn’t.” I grope for words, not sure how else to say it.

“Tell me you didn’t do this, Grace,” he growls.

“I didn’t—”

I make a move to step toward him, but my words break off as he slams me back against the door, pressing his body into mine.

He grabs my face and forces m

e to look up at him—to confront the beast behind his eyes, the one trying to tear its way out of his body and slaughter me. His thumb presses into my cheek until I can feel it against my jaw, his entire body shaking with rage against mine.

“I want to hear you say it again,” he grates out, tightening his grip even more.

“Hale, I didn’t. I swear—”

But he’s so far gone, lost inside himself. So swallowed by his grief that a simple no doesn’t stand a chance against his consuming pain, the tempest that’s raging inside of him. It hurts, having to watch him like this, having to see him go through this. His grief is tearing him apart.

And that’s what makes me ache the most, because I know how he feels. More than anything, I know.

I somehow manage to snake my arms up between us, grabbing his forearms with my hands, trying to bring him back to me with a touch.

“I didn’t have anything to do with your dad’s death, Hale. I promise you. I swear on my own father’s grave. I swear on my life. I know what it’s like to lose your parents,” I whisper, catching his gaze and holding it. “And I would never do that to another person. I’d never do that to you.”

I watch his throat convulse as he swallows. He wants to believe me. I can see it in the way his eyes track mine, hope hovering just behind the pain.

“The last time Damian and I spoke alone,” I say, my voice thick, “I promised him I would never hurt you. I didn’t expect him to believe me, but he did. Because I think he could see what I couldn’t even admit to myself. He could see how much I care about you. I need you, Hale. I need you to stay with me.”

Hale blinks.

His jaw twitches as silence stretches between us. I wait for him to make his next move, wait to see if he’ll allow himself to be brought back. The monster trying to take over his soul puts up a good fight, but finally, his face crumples as Hale comes slamming back into his body, the full weight of grief rushing over him.

A broken sob tears from his lips. His large frame shudders from head to toe.

Unable to hold myself back, I wrap my arms around him, going up on tiptoes as I hug him as hard as I can. He hugs me back, pulling me away from the door and into his embrace, his arms banding around me so tightly that I almost can’t breathe.

For several long minutes, we stay like that, two separate beings joined into one through raw emotion. Silent tears streak down my own cheeks as we both cry, faces buried in each other’s necks.

With a soft noise, Hale loosens his grip a little. His hands come up to frame my face, threading through my tear-dampened hair. For one second, I stare up into his blue eyes, glassy and bloodshot from grief.

Then he crashes his lips against mine, kissing me with everything that’s left inside of him.

23

Grace