Chapter 46 Scars Don't Fade
Becca’s POV
The smell of something burnt pulled me from sleep.
For a second, I thought I was still in that mansion, smoke, screams, the world caving in.
My chest tightened, my breath came with breaks. But the air here… it was clean.
Warm. Safe.
Light spilled through tall glass windows, soft and golden. I was wrapped in sheets that didn’t belong to any hospital.
It was silk, too soft, too expensive.
Then came his voice.
“Don’t panic. It’s just pancakes. They didn’t survive.”
Mark.
I blinked, turning toward the sound. He stood in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, trying to flip something that definitely used to be food.
A laugh escaped me, quiet, startled.
He looked up immediately. “You laughed.”
“I did not.”
“Oh, you did. Don’t try to take it back,” he said, pretending to be offended, flipping the pancake again.
It hit the floor this time.I smiled despite the throbbing headache.
“Yeah he sucks in the kitchen,”
That was Danielle with her always smiling face.
“Heyyy sister, how are you doing,”
“I'm good,” I responded faintly.
He leaned against the counter, half-grinning, half-serious.
“At least I'm learning,” he responded.
“Not so romantic a man, these abs are quite useless now to attract a lady,” Danielle blabbed, picking the cup at the table.
What the heck did she just say? I was so shy.
Mark only smiled.
“I make terrible pancakes, but they’re delicious and honest,”
I frowned. “Honest?”
“Yeah.” He shrugged. “They don’t pretend to be good. They just… exist. Like me.”
“Exactly,” I supported .
“Alright…alright,” Danielle interrupted, raising her hands in the air.
“Let me leave you two to be muchyy_ dovyy,”
Yuck, this girl just winked at me . She smiled at Mark and then left the room.
“Your sister is quite a character,’’ I nodded.
He walked closer, slow, careful, like every step was a question. “How’s your leg?”
I glanced down at the bandages, bruises, and a dull ache.
“Better,” I said softly.
His eyes softened. “You scared the hell out of me.”
“I scared myself.”
He didn’t laugh this time. “I mean it, Becca. When that building went off…” His voice cracked, and he stopped mid-sentence. “I thought I lost you. Again.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. The air between us felt fragile.
He sat on the edge of the bed, close but not touching. Sunlight fell across his jaw, catching the faint scar near his chin.
I used to trace that line when I thought we’d never fall apart.
He exhaled. “You didn’t deserve the man I was. But I want to be the man you need.”
My heart did that painful twist again.
“Why?” I asked. “Why would you still save me, after everything?”
He looked up, eyes dark and steady. “Because I’d burn the world for you.”
The words didn’t sound rehearsed. They came from somewhere deep.
He reached for me then, his hand brushing through my hair, slow and unsure. My eyes fluttered shut as his fingers grazed my cheek.
My pulse tripped over itself.
God, I wanted him.
His thumb hovered near my lips, tracing the edge like a thought he didn’t finish.
“You don’t have to be strong right now,” he whispered.
“If I stop being strong,” I said, voice trembling, “I’ll fall apart.”
“Then fall apart here,” he murmured. “I’ll catch you.”
I stared at his full lips. There was a slight cut on it. I wanted to kiss the pain away.
Slowly I leaned in , for one perfect second, the world stilled. Our breaths met halfway, and I could feel how close he was.
But then he kissed my forehead instead.
It was soft and gentle but it was not what I wanted.
He pulled back too quickly, clearing his throat. “You should shower. You’ll feel better.”
“Yeah,” I whispered, forcing a smile I didn’t mean.
He turned away, pretending to fix something on the counter. I watched his shoulders ; the tension there, the restraint.
Mark Simmons, the man who could tear down a building, couldn’t bring himself to kiss me.
The water hit my skin warm, steady.
It felt too good.
I stood under it until the steam blurred the walls, until the world outside the glass stopped feeling real.
For the first time in forever, I saw myself again
The bruises, the burns, the scars that didn’t fade even when the soap did.
But I was breathing.
I was alive.
I let the water wash through my hair, over my face. Mark’s words looped in my mind like a prayer I didn’t know I needed.
I’d burn the world for you.
Maybe he meant it. Maybe he didn’t. But for now, I just wanted to believe it.
When I stepped out, the smell of coffee filled the penthouse. I wrapped a towel around myself and smiled faintly.
The soft hum of a familiar old song drifted from the living room, the one we used to dance to when things were simple.
But something was off.
Mark wasn’t singing along. He wasn’t moving.
He stood by the counter, phone in hand, staring like the world had stopped.
“Mark?” I asked softly.
He didn’t answer. His jaw tightened.
“Is everything okay?”
When he finally looked up, the warmth in his eyes was gone. His voice was low, too calm. “Get dressed.”
My heart sank. “What’s going on?”
He turned the phone toward me.
“You don’t think a bomb blast can kill Davenport, do you?
And below it was a photo.
Of Me.
Standing right there by the bathroom mirror, towel wrapped around me.
A red dot glowed faintly against my chest.
The picture was just taken a few minutes ago.
For a second, my body forgot how to breathe.
Davenport was alive.