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  2. Severed Heart (Ravenhood Legacy Book 2)

  3. Severed Heart: Chapter 38
Severed Heart (Ravenhood Legacy Book 2)

Severed Heart: Chapter 38

UTTER. FUCKING. HELL.
It’s the only way to describe watching twenty years of alcoholism drain from Delphine before my eyes. Fists at my sides at the end of her bed, I watch as she vomits, or rather, dry heaves, hovering over the plastic tub the nurse holds at her bedside. Delphine’s hair and face are soaked in sweat, as is the sheet plastered to her body. Each of her accompanying groans relentlessly replacing hope with fear that she might not survive the night. Though I told her I would be by her side every second, I signed up for a hellacious journey of laying witness to each one. Though I was assured Delphine could handle detoxing at home with the proper medical supervision, as each agony-filled second passes, I second-guess my decision not to have hospitalized her. After another thirty minutes of watching her endure the worst of her first battle, I reach my breaking point.
“Sedate her again,” I grit out in an order to the nurse, Kerri, who’s currently fucking knitting now in a kitchen chair that I moved to Delphine’s bedside.
“She’s almost through the worst of it,” she offers blandly.
“She doesn’t and shouldn’t fucking have to suffer through it all, sedate her.”
“Mr. Jennings, I’m simply—”
“I don’t give a fuck!” I roar. “Sedate her or get the fuck out!” I stalk toward Delphine’s dresser, which is now lined with medical supplies, in search. The specialized nurse—who came highly recommended for high-risk detox—finally shoots her useless ass up from her chair and grabs a ready syringe. Glaring at her, I take a knee next to Delphine’s bedside and grab her hand as she looks over to me.
“You’re not b-behaving like a s-soldier,” she challenges in an attempt to joke as I run my fingers through her soaked hair, trying to hide my worry. The only reason I’m keeping her here is because she hasn’t had a seizure—I know this because I haven’t slept in the last thirty-six hours. But it’s the third and fourth day she’s most at risk, and I’m coming apart at the idea that it could happen any time.
“Give us the room,” I order Kerri, who immediately takes her leave under my glare.
“You know, technically,” I whisper to Delphine, “I’m a Marine now. I’ve even got a fancy title.”
“What is it?” she asks, shaking so badly that I fight for breath.
“Gunnery sergeant.” I flash her a grin I don’t feel. “But I’ll always be your soldier”—I wink—“and you know that. How you doing, General?”
“I c-could use a drink,” she manages, her eyes latched to mine, her face clammy, her body soaked with sweat.
“I’m kind of with you on that. I could use one myself.” I peer back at her, curious as to when she started day drinking. The knowledge battering me that years ago, when she limited her intake, this wouldn’t have been nearly as dangerous—that and the fact that this really could kill her.
“I d-don’t want to fail you.” She shivers as I stand and bend, unlacing my boots while never dropping eye contact.
“Then don’t,” I tell her, fisting off my shirt.
“I don’t w-want to fail me,” she admits in a whisper while taking a curious eyeful of the tattoo on my right pec.
“Even better,” I commend just as her face twists in discomfort, her jaw shaking involuntarily. “We’re going in together this round, General. Are you ready?”
Delphine nods, keeping her eyes locked with mine, and in seconds, I’m stripped into nothing but my boxers before I slip into bed and turn on my side. Propped on my hand, I stare down at her where she lays on her back beneath me. “I have a few more secrets to tell you,” I confess as Delphine gazes up at me, slick hair plastered to her scalp, her lips tinged blue. “Want to hear them?”
“Oui.” She nods for emphasis.
“Before your soldier left for the Marines, he gave himself two missions to see through in the sixteen days he had before he was to board his bus. The first was that he spent twelve days alone in the woods with the pocketknife you gave him.”
She winces at her failed effort to get closer, and I palm her hip, adjusting her so she’s as flush to me as possible.
“Better?” She nods as she gazes up at me with pride in her eyes.
“You r-really did it?”
“I admit it was no picnic, but yeah. I did it.” I wink. “So, you impressed?”
She musters a tiny smile. “I am imp-pressed”—she shivers—“and proud.”
“You’re scared,” I murmur, and her eyes instantly water. Still propped on my hand, I palm the top of her head, brushing my thumb along her hairline the very same way I did so many years ago. Her long exhale hits my neck as she sinks into the sweep of my touch. “I’m not scared, and do you know why?”
“Why?”
“Because after you win this battle, there’s nothing and no one to be afraid of anymore. Which brings me to my second mission. Do you want to hear it?”
“O-oui, t-tell me.” Her jaw slows the involuntary shake as I continue to caress her hairline, and her lids start to lower. Staring down at her, I bite my lip, hesitating briefly before deciding to see it through.
“In seeking an answer to a question that had been plaguing your soldier for years, I made it my mission to get that answer before I left. As close as we were, Delphine, I wasn’t sure if you would tell me if I asked.” She frowns but remains silent.
“So, three days before your soldier got on that bus to train as a Marine, I got that answer. The question being . . . if some of his general’s guilt might stem from the fact that her ex-husband might not have simply disappeared.”
Her gasp is audible. “Tyler, non, I did not kill him—”
“I know, General,” I whisper, cupping her cheek. “Want to know how I know?” Her eyes widen even as her body starts to go lax due to the sedative. “Because I did.”
She gapes at me as I continually sweep my thumb along her profile.
“Because your soldier hunted him down, only to find him wasting away in a dilapidated trailer in Georgia. Living in utter fucking filth.”
Her exhales cease against my neck as the intensity of her gaze increases tenfold.
“That night, Alain suffered the most brutal of deaths,” I admit unapologetically. “His injuries were extensive, injuries you’re familiar with.”
I sweep my finger along her cheek while recounting the list of injuries she’d stuttered through the night I found her rocking on her living room floor in her underwear.
“Several contusions on the spine . . . three broken ribs . . . a fractured wrist and ulna . . . significant damage to the windpipe, bite marks,” I whisper, capturing the tear streaming down her temple with the pad of my thumb. “But what ended his life,” I whisper low, “was a brutal blow to his left temporal lobe”—her eyes spill over—“a blow his wife survived, but that your soldier made sure Alain didn’t.”
Leaning in, I press a slow kiss to her temple, just above the surface of the injury that lay beneath. Pulling back, I see her gaping up at me in utter shock. In those tense seconds, I completely lower my mask, allowing her to take in the expression of a man with zero regrets. Who summoned his darkness within the length of a long, deep inhale and a blink. A shift made a second before he turned the knob on that battered, yellowing trailer door. Mask off, I allow her to view the man who stepped through her ex-husband’s doorway, both filled and fueled by the need for retribution. A man void of all empathy and compassion. Void of anything but the hate that had been festering inside him for years and the dire need for vengeance for the woman he loved. I allow her to see the extent of the capabilities within the soldier she helped to shape and the assassin he molded within himself before and while in her absence. And she does, she sees it all within that length of time as he speaks.
“What can I say, General? Of all the things you said that morning, you were absolutely right about one thing . . .” I lean down and stroke her cheek. “I’m a jealous fucking man.”
* * *
Hours later, I rouse as Kerri exchanges Delphine’s IV bag. Glancing down, I see Delphine sleeping soundly. Gazing down at her freely, I take in the changes. Of the natural signs of aging, the unnatural ruddiness in her complexion, and the tiny broken vessels in her cheeks due to years of drinking. Knowing that some of it will clear up and the circles will possibly fade with the end of her treatment. Even so, I can clearly make out the same surreal mix of features that I memorized for endless hours when I was a teenager. Her beauty is not so far gone that it’s no longer noticeable. Just veiled behind years of self-abuse and illness. With time and some focus on her health, she’ll regain some of her vibrance. Not that I give a shit, much preferring her animation back over anything. The ache remains that I still love her so fucking much, romantically. The lie I told her was completely necessary and one I will uphold like I did my promise. Because all these years of fighting it have taught me that I don’t want to live without her. So, if it means lying, then I can live with that, just not without her in any capacity. Holding her, being this close to her again after so many years apart, is fucking everything—even if it’s temporary.
“Is she out of the woods for seizures?” I ask Kerri after she exchanges the bag while still gazing down at Delphine.
“For the most part, yes,” she replies.
I nod, satisfied. “Then you are dismissed.”
“I’m happy to stay,” she offers, “she really does need supervision.”
“That’s what I’m here for,” I tell her. “I’m sorry about the way I spoke to you”—I let the words linger—“but not at all sorry for my reaction.” I glance over to see offense in her expression, as expected, but I don’t let it deter me. “As many times as you’ve seen this, I’m sure it’s hard to muster empathy. Especially with your amount of experience, but fucking knitting while someone is writhing in pain right next to you?”
She has the good sense to look ashamed.
“I’m sure you’ve heard it all, Kerri, seen it all, and have reached a wall for the sympathy you have left for people who choose this life path. But this woman.” I gaze down at Delphine. “I assure you. You’ve never heard a story quite like hers. She’s more than worthy of your empathy, and so is any other human being brave enough to seek your help and expertise.”
We stare off for a silent beat before she speaks.
“I apologize, Mr. Jennings,” she replies sincerely. “It’s obvious you love her very much.”
I nod.
“I really don’t mind staying,” Kerri offers, remorse clear in her tone.
“No, I’ve got her.”
Sometime later, the feel of fingers running through my hair has me easing back from my slip out of consciousness. As I rouse, I absorb as much as I can of Delphine’s gentle touch, surprised by the nature of it considering my confession. My smile precedes the opening of my eyes as I take her in. In a short assessment, she seems to have regained slight color, a step up from ghastly pale. Her eyes, though filled with sleep, hold some of the disbelief they harbored before she closed them.
“Did I dream that, Soldier?” she whispers, still stroking my hair.
“No,” I emit low, but unflinching.
She glances around the room.
“We’re alone. I dismissed the nurse,” I relay. “Don’t be afraid of me.”
“I’m not,” she replies instantly. “I’m not afraid, Tyler. Never of you, but you . . . found him. You truly found Alain?”
“Hunted would be the more appropriate word, but yes.”
“And you . . . killed him?”
“Yes,” I state unapologetically. “He suffered every wound he gave you that night in that exact order.”
“Why?”
I readjust my pillow, facing her. “Because I couldn’t live with the fact that he was still breathing. Because I knew the first time I took a life, it would alter me, change me as it does for every man. So, I controlled that decision, and in doing so, it was utterly fucking painless.”
“Painless . . . but, Tyler, you’re—”
“Yes, I am, and you know I am,” I state emphatically as her eyes roam my face. “You knew long ago that my blood can run very, very cold. You saw it when I was a kid. You suspected I was capable. I didn’t want to talk about it because I knew I was. But because I faced it, I’ve got control of it, not the other way around.” I let out a long exhale. “But let me be clear, I can only speak with ease about it to you and only with you. Don’t think I didn’t battle the weight of what it means, mind and soul, because I did for some time.”
She nods and continues running her fingers over my brow, eyes heavy with the need for sleep as questions lie inside them.
“One step at a time, and this isn’t the time yet. Do you trust me?”
“With my life, but . . . you”—she shakes her head—“discovered so much.”
“This is a trauma you need to work through, build up to, and it’s going to take time. I want us to be as armed as possible when we go into that battle, but we’re not ready yet. I can’t promise it will be easy, but you will have your answers.”
“Okay, Soldier, I will trust you.” She palms my jaw, and I close my eyes at the feel of it. “I have missed you . . . imbecile,” she jokes weakly, “very much.”
I can’t help but smile even as the melancholy hits. “Me too, General.”
By the time I open by eyes, her fingers have stilled, and she’s drifted back to sleep.
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