Chapter 211

Aiden

We were tangled up in the sheets, still warm from everything we’d done, Noah tucked against me like he belonged there—which, God, he always had. The whole club was quiet now except for the faint distant hum from the main floor, but here in this room it felt like the world had finally stopped spinning long enough for us to breathe. He was lying half on top of me, his cheek against my shoulder, fingers tracing the lines of my stomach like he was memorizing them. I kissed the top of his head, and he lifted his face just enough for me to kiss his nose. He wrinkled it, grinning in that boyish way that killed me.

“Do you know,” I murmured, brushing my thumb over his cheek, “that you have the cutest nose?”

He laughed—soft, embarrassed, adorable—and the sound warmed my chest. I kissed the tip of his nose again, slow and playful, and he bit his lip like he was trying not to smile too hard.

“And the most delicious lips…” I whispered, lowering my mouth to his. He giggled against my mouth, breath hitching as I kissed him again. “And the most beautiful blue eyes I have ever seen.”

“No…” he whined, burying his face in my neck. “Stop… you’re gonna make me blush like a girl.”

“That’s the point,” I teased, sliding my hand up his spine. “I like it when you blush.”

He kissed me again, quick and sweet, and settled against me, and for a moment—just one blessed moment—it felt like the universe had given us a night off from suffering. Then Noah’s phone buzzed on the bedside table. Once. Twice. We ignored it, too wrapped up in each other. The third buzz was longer, insistent, vibrating across the wood like it was alive.

Noah sighed and reached over reluctantly. “Damn it, who the hell?”

“Answer it,” I said quietly. “Just in case.”

He picked it up, saw her name, and his body went tense. He tapped the screen. “Lex? Hey, are you—”

Her voice came through so violently broken that my stomach dropped. A choked sob, the kind that didn’t build—it erupted.

“Noah—Noah—oh God—” she gasped, and I could hear chaos behind her. Sirens. People shouting.

Noah sat up fast. “Lexie? Hey—hey, slow down. What happened? What’s going on?”

“I don’t—he—oh God, Micah—there was a car—” She was crying so hard the words kept shattering. “He didn’t stop—he just hit us—he ran—he ran off—”

I snatched the phone gently but firmly from Noah’s trembling hand. “Lexie. Lexie, listen to me. Where are you?”

“I—I’m by the bridge… there’s—there’s an ambulance coming… please hurry… he’s not—he’s not waking up… Aiden, please—”

“We’re coming,” I said, already climbing out of bed. “Stay with him. We’re on our way.”

Noah was already stumbling into his clothes, hands shaking so violently he couldn’t get the buttons right. I grabbed his wrists to steady him, but he shook me off, near frantic.

“Micah… oh God, Lexie… Aiden, if anything happened—if either of them—”

“Noah.” I cupped his face, forcing him to look at me. His eyes were wide, wet, terrified. “Look at me. I need you calm right now. Do you hear me? We don’t know anything yet. We just need to get there. Stay with me. Breathe.”

He nodded, barely, swallowing hard, and we dressed in silence except for our ragged breathing. Fear sat heavy in my chest like a stone, but I couldn’t let it take me. Not now. Not when he needed me steady. I grabbed the keys Hale kept for staff emergencies, and we rushed down the hallway, our footsteps echoing.

The moment we hit the cool night air outside the club, Noah whispered, “This is my fault… Aiden, I can’t lose anyone else. I can’t—”

“You won’t,” I said, though my voice cracked. “We’re almost there.”

We got in the car, doors slamming shut like punctuation marks to the peace we’d had minutes before. I sped out of the lot, tires screeching, and the city lights blurred past us as we flew toward the bridge. Noah kept one hand braced on the dashboard, the other clenched white-knuckled around mine, as if letting go would make everything fall apart.

And as we turned onto the final stretch, the red and blue lights came into view—flashing, pulsing, cutting into the night like a wound.

I felt Noah’s breath break beside me.

We were seconds away.

And the world was about to change again.

I barely had the car in park before Noah threw his door open and ran. The bridge was half-blocked by police cars, paramedics moving fast, floodlights painting everything in harsh white. And there, trembling beside the mangled car, Lexie stood with dried blood streaked across her cheek and a bruise already forming along her temple. The moment she saw Noah, she collapsed into him, sobbing as he wrapped his arms around her.

I didn’t follow him. I went straight to the medics loading Micah onto a stretcher. He was strapped in, limp, his curls matted with blood on the right side, his face pale under the flashing lights. My stomach twisted so violently I had to force myself to stay steady.

One of the paramedics—mid-forties, focused, calm—looked up as I approached. “Are you family?”

“Yes,” I said instantly, voice rough. “I’m—he’s mine. What happened? How bad is he?”

“We’re not sure yet,” she said as they lifted him into the ambulance. “He has a head laceration, possible concussion, maybe more. His pulse is strong, but he’s unresponsive. We need imaging to rule out internal injuries. Do you know if he’s on any medications?”

“No,” I said. “He’s healthy. Please… just tell me he’s breathing.”

“He’s breathing,” she said, and something in my chest unclenched just enough to stay upright. “We’ll take him to Memorial ER. You can follow.”

The police waved another medic over toward Lexie, checking her vision and the side of her face. I saw the way she kept flinching, the way Noah held her tighter, whispering something to keep her grounded. She had small cuts on her forehead, a scrape down her arm, bruising already blooming across her shoulder from the seatbelt. Nothing life-threatening, but enough to shake anyone to pieces.

A young officer approached them, notebook out, speaking gently. “Ma’am, we’ll need a statement once you’ve been checked. Did you see the other vehicle? Anything about the driver?”

Lexie shook her head frantically, voice breaking. “He didn’t stop… he didn’t even slow down… he just—he just hit us and kept going.”

“That’s okay,” the officer said, soft and calm. “We’re going to find him. You’re safe now.”

I stepped closer, hand on Noah’s back as Lexie pressed her face into his shoulder. He looked up at me over her hair—wide-eyed, terrified, barely holding it together.

“They’re taking Micah now,” I said quietly. “He’s breathing. They’re going to run tests.”

Lexie sobbed harder at the word tests, and Noah held her tighter.

“Lex,” I said, trying to meet her eyes. “You’re hurt. You need to go with the medics too.”

“No—no, I have to go with him—please—” She pointed toward the ambulance.

“You can,” I said gently. “They’ll take both of you.”

Another medic stepped over. “Miss Hart? You have a minor contusion and a few cuts. We’d like to take you in as well. You can ride with him if you want; he’ll be sedated for transport.”

She nodded, trembling violently. Noah kissed her forehead and whispered something I couldn’t hear, and for a second I saw the boy who had once believed he was alone in the world, suddenly terrified of losing two of the only people who had stood beside him.

The medics ushered Lexie inside the ambulance, securing her in one of the spare seats as they continued monitoring Micah. The moment the doors closed, I pulled Noah into me. He sagged against my chest, breath breaking apart.

“Aiden… Why?”

“Hey,” I whispered, gripping the back of his head. “Listen to me. Micah’s strong. And Lexie will be okay. We’re going to the hospital. We’re not losing anyone tonight.”

He nodded against me, shaking, and I pressed a kiss to his hair before steering him toward the car.

Behind us, the ambulance pulled out, sirens splitting the night as it sped toward the hospital.

And everything we thought tonight would be shattered in a single moment, replaced by fear, urgency, and the sickening realization that nothing was safe in this life. Not even those things we took for granted.