98: His Personal Fire Extinguisher
SERA
The hospital corridor was cold. I leaned against the vending machine with my arms crossed, staring at those blinking buttons as if they could somehow fix the mess we were in. Killian was finally asleep, but I knew better than to believe that this was the end of the fight. Sonia's words kept ringing in my head.
“That name... Black Scorpion. I think I've heard it before. From your father.”
I let out a bitter laugh. "Black Scorpion," I muttered. "Because Killian's life wasn't chaotic enough. Now we're adding venomous code names and family secrets to the mix."
Rubbing the back of my neck, I felt the tension knot tighten.
Figures. Killian’s old man's closet must have been stuffed with skeletons bigger than all of us.
A soft shuffle behind me made me turn. Sonia was standing a few feet away. Her face was pale, but her eyes were steady.
"I told him everything I know," she said, her voice rough but determined. "Except for the fact that…your family might be linked to him as well.”
I narrowed my eyes. "Great. Just what we needed. Another family disaster waiting to explode."
Sonia gave me a sad smile. "I’m afraid this person has a strong vendetta against us for the sins of our past,” she said.
Now, wasn’t that perfect?
I punched the vending machine lightly, and a few coins clinked onto the floor. "Might as well grab some snacks," I muttered, "because this ride's about to get long, ugly, and way more complicated."
Sonia watched me quietly. "You're strong, Sera. Killian's lucky to have you."
My chest tightened. "Lucky him? Yeah, I'm basically his personal fire extinguisher. Someone's got to keep this circus from burning down,” I sassed.
My fingers hovered over the vending buttons, but I didn't press any. The weight of everything was far too heavy for sarcasm to hide.
So I glanced down the hallway toward Killian's room and whispered under my breath, "I'm not about to let Killian get swallowed by whatever that bastard is planning. My husband needs a fucking break.”
...
A while later, the click of Sonia's heels finally faded down the hall, leaving me alone with my thoughts and a sinking feeling that I couldn't shake. My phone buzzed in my hand before I even looked at it. Big D. I answered on the first ring.
"Hey," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
The moment he heard me, there was a brief silence.
"Sera, where the hell are you?" He practically growled. Uh-oh, I guess I couldn’t hide shit from him.
I sighed, swallowing the tight knot in my throat. "At the hospital."
"Don't lie to me."
"I'm not," I muttered.
"Tell me exactly where you are, or I'm tracking your phone."
I raised an eyebrow, amused despite the tension. "You're lucky I don't think you'd actually do that."
"Try me."
I gave him the floor number and room. A few minutes later, Big D showed up with worried eyes.
"Talk to me," he said, folding his arms.
I spilled everything Sonia told me. Everything, including the possible connection to Killian's father and my family, and the venomous legacy we were dealing with.
Big D's jaw tightened. "Black Scorpion's more than just a name. I've heard whispers. Dangerous ones. If he's involved, this just got a whole lot uglier."
I nodded. "I know. And Killian's sinking fast."
He gave me a grim smile. "You're not alone. I've got your back. We'll figure this out."
....
Killian's eyes fluttered open hours later, bloodshot. I could still see the storm of withdrawal raging in him, the battle I knew he was losing.
I didn't say anything at first. I just sat there beside the bed, watching him fight for control.
When he finally looked at me, his gaze was fierce but tired. "What's next?" he rasped.
That question was what I'd been dreading and waiting for all at once.
I swallowed hard and pulled out the pamphlet I'd gotten from the hospital social worker earlier. The one about an outpatient rehab program. Knowing Killian, I doubt he liked the thought of being stuck in a hospital. Not only would he be susceptible to attacks, rumors spread quickly. The smaller foes whom he’d crushed would take it as an opportunity to get back at him in his weakness.
"This," I said, my voice steady but soft. "This is where we start. A place where they can help you get clean, really clean."
He flinched at the word but didn't argue.
"I'll schedule everything," I promised. "We'll go together."
He nodded slowly.
It wasn't a cure, not yet. But it was a start.
…
We arrived at home late in the evening. Killian moved with stiff, uneven steps, his face pale and drawn. He kept shifting his weight, unable to find a single position that didn't send a jolt of agony through his muscles. His hands trembled so violently I thought they might betray him at any moment.
He barely made it past the living room before he stopped dead, his face twisting with nausea. His breaths came fast and shallow, his chest heaving as if his lungs were fighting for every ounce of air. Without a word, he turned sharply and dashed towards the stairs.
I barely caught a glimpse of him before the unmistakable sound of retching echoed down the hall.
My heart clenched tight, helplessness squeezing through my chest.
Before I could move, Rue appeared, her small hand slipping into Ethan's. She looked up at me, her big eyes full of worry that no child should have to carry.
"Mummy," she whispered softly, her voice trembling.
I knelt down, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "He's just not feeling good right now, sweetheart. Daddy needs to rest."
Ethan stayed close, silent but alert, his gaze flickering toward the stairs where Killian had vanished.
I stayed in the living room to give him a little space, my mind swirling with the image of his pale, trembling form and the harsh sounds that had just echoed through the hallway. The restlessness in the air was almost suffocating, and I knew I couldn't just wait downstairs.
I swallowed the knot tightening in my throat and climbed the stairs quietly. At the top, the door to the room was slightly ajar. I pushed it open and found Killian sitting on the edge of the bed, a towel loosely wrapped around his neck and shoulders. He'd clearly managed to shower, but the effort hadn't erased the ghost of the storm raging inside him.
His skin still shone with dampness, but beneath that, his face was ashen, his eyes bloodshot and sunken, surrounded by dark shadows that spoke of exhaustion and torment. The sharp angles of his cheekbones and jaw looked too pronounced, as if the withdrawal had hollowed him out from the inside. He sat rigidly, his hands clasped tightly between his knees while his fingers twitched uncontrollably.
The faint scent of soap clung to him, but it couldn't mask the raw tension radiating off his body.
He didn't look at me when I entered, his eyes were fixed somewhere beyond the room, lost in a haze of pain and nausea. His breathing was shallow and uneven, his chest rising and falling heavily.
I took a hesitant step closer, my voice barely above a whisper. "Killian..."
He shifted slightly, his jaw tightening. "Don't..." he rasped.
“I know you’re ashamed and you’re terribly out of energy, but that doesn’t mean you’re anything less than the man I’ve always known. My man,” I said, crouching and cupping his face.
His Adam's apple bobbed in his throat, and I placed a kiss on his jaw.
“You can beat this, love. Don’t give up, please.” I whispered.
He closed his eyes for a moment, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly. Then he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and let out a shaky breath. A single bead of sweat slipped down his temple.
I reached out, hesitating before gently brushing damp strands of hair from his forehead.
His eyes opened slowly, his gaze meeting mine. The man I loved was buried deep beneath the torment, but in that glance, I could see how hard he was fighting.
Before I could say more, my phone buzzed urgently in my pocket. I pulled it out, Sofia's name flashing on the screen.
"Hey, Sof," I answered quickly.
"I found something." Her voice was low and tense. "About Black Scorpion. I'm sending you a photo now. You need to see it."
A message popped up immediately, and I opened it. It was a grainy but unmistakable image of a man's face.
I stared at it, my breath catching in my throat. It was Jonas.
My childhood best friend. The one who was supposed to be dead.
A rush of my childhood memories slammed into me right then.
I looked back at Killian, who was sitting there, fragile and broken, unaware that the past was clawing its way back, threatening to change everything.