136: Bleed For Her

136: Bleed For Her
ADRIAN

The stitches tugged every time I moved, a hot, angry throb buried deep in my side. My head was fogged from the meds my doctor had pumped into me, but no amount of painkillers could quiet the itch under my skin.

Rue.

Her name seared through me, hotter than the fever. I'd texted her like a coward, typing out that pathetic 'maybe you're right' bullshit because I'd panicked. Because for one stupid second, I thought letting her go would keep her safe.

And I fucking hated myself for it.

Every cell in my body screamed at me to go to her.

I shoved off the leather couch, my teeth gritted as the stitches pulled. The room tilted, my vision swimming, but I ignored it. I wasn't made for rest.

Fuck that.

My footsteps echoed down the marble staircase, each step agonizing. My fists curled around the railing, but I pushed through the pain.

Halfway down, she appeared.

Claudia. My father's wife. Always dressed like she was auditioning for a Vogue cover. Diamonds glinted on her neck, her lips curved in that permanent sneer she wore whenever she looked at me.

"Adrian Romano," she hissed, crossing her arms. "Do you have any idea the humiliation you caused yesterday? You were supposed to be at lunch with your fiancée."

Fiancée. The word was poison in my ears.

I dragged a hand down my face, fighting the urge to laugh. "She's not my fiancée."

Her heels clicked against the marble as she approached, her eyes narrowing. "The Davenports don't see it that way. They're furious. And your father—"

"My father," I cut her off, annoyed, "can shove his alliances down someone else's throat. I'm not a pawn in his fucking empire."

Claudia's eyes flashed. She loved these little power plays, loved pretending she had control over me when in reality she was nothing but a parasite clinging to my father's shadow.

"You're reckless," she spat. "Do you even understand what you've risked? We've spent years smoothing things over with the Davenports, and you think you can just—"

"Do you want to know what I understand?" I stalked closer, ignoring the flare of pain ripping through my side. My voice dropped low. "That while you and my father were playing matchmaker with porcelain dolls, I was out there bleeding. And the only thing on my mind wasn't your empire, it was my woman."

Her face froze, the way it always did when I threw a card she couldn't control.

"You're delusional," she snapped, recovering quickly. "That Cross girl will destroy you. She's your enemy, Adrian. She'll cut your throat the second you let her close."

I smirked, though it felt more like I was baring my teeth. "Maybe that's what makes her perfect."

Claudia's nose wrinkled in disgust. "You sound just like your mother."

I stiffened, the old scar splitting open at the mention. My jaw ticked, but I said nothing.

Instead, I brushed past her, heat rolling off me in waves. "Tell my father whatever you want. Tell the Davenports their porcelain doll can go cry to the tabloids. I don't give a fuck."

I gripped the banister, forcing my legs to carry me down the last few steps even as fire licked my ribs.

Because one truth pounded through the haze of fever and pain:

Rue Cross was mine.

And nothing was going to change that.

....

I should've stayed in bed. But the thought of Rue sipping her ridiculous passion fruit juice without me being there to see it was unbearable.

So I'd dragged myself out into the night, my black coat hiding the bandages under my shirt, my head pounding from the cold.

The corner store's neon buzzed overhead, ugly and too bright, but I planted myself on the hood of my car anyway. Two plastic bags sat beside me, the bottles in them clinking. Not one or two.

Because if I couldn't bleed for her, what the fuck else was I good for?

A cough tore through my chest, rattling my ribs and yanking fire through my stitched side. I hunched forward, my hand pressing tight against the wound as I cursed under my breath.

Worth it.

I'd wait all night if I had to.

I perked up when I saw her.

Rue.

She was wearing a large pink hoodie that drowned her frame, with a short skirt flashing just enough thigh above those black boots. It was casual and lethal.

She strolled inside, oblivious. I sat there, breathing like a dying man, watching the way her hood slipped off her head when she bent to grab something from the lower shelf.

Minutes later she walked out with a plastic bag swinging from her hand, but she looked annoyed.

She hadn't found it.

I smirked to myself. Of course she hadn't. Because every single bottle of her precious juice was already mine.

She muttered something under her breath, adjusting her hood as she started down the street, disappointed.

My chest ached, not just from the wound but from the yearning in my bones. I slid off the car with a wince.

The pain made me sway for a second, but I pushed through it, my eyes locked on her figure, which was retreating towards her car.

Then I went after her.

My voice was rough, broken from coughing and fever, but it reached her still.

"Looking for something, Ruin?"

Her movements faltered. She turned, and for one raw second, those stormy blue eyes locked on me.

The hood shadowed most of her face, but I saw the flicker of irritation, the tension in her jaw, and the way she froze when she recognized me.

I leaned against the lamppost, casual only in appearance. Inside, I was burning alive.

The plastic bags dangled from my hand, the bottles clinking softly.

Her brows creased up into a frown. "What the hell are you doing here?"

I coughed into my fist, the sound jagged, pulling at my stitches until white-hot pain shot through my ribs. Still, I straightened, forcing a grin that didn't quite reach my eyes.

"Waiting for you."

"By a convenience store?" She shot back, crossing her arms. The oversized hoodie tugged higher on her thighs with the movement, and I had to bite down hard against the groan that tried to escape.

"You always come here for your precious juice," I rasped, lifting the bags slightly. "So I bought them all."

Her lips parted. "You—what?"

"I didn't want you to be disappointed," I murmured, taking a shaky step closer. My legs felt like concrete, my head heavy, but I didn't stop. "Turns out I was wrong. You still look disappointed."

The fury in her eyes should've gutted me. Instead, it made me hungrier.

"You're insane." She snatched one of the bags out of my hand, the bottles clinking inside. "Buying out a whole store? Do you hear yourself?"

I coughed again, harder this time. My knees almost buckled, and before I could stop myself, I reached out, gripping her wrist.

Her eyes widened. "You're burning up."

"Doesn't matter," I rasped. My thumb brushed her pulse. I wanted to press my mouth there and taste it. "All that matters is that you're here. That you didn't walk away."

She swallowed hard, torn between yanking free and staying put. I could see it in her eyes. Every war she fought with herself mirrored the ones inside me.

"Adrian," she whispered softly.

My chest tightened. It was the first time she was calling me by name. Fuck, I was already addicted.

I leaned forward, my forehead almost resting against hers. "I missed you. I couldn't sleep last night. Not after leaving you the way I did. I felt like an animal. I felt unworthy of staying by your side. But I'm starving. I can't lose you."

Her breath hitched.

My vision drifted in and out of focus, but I forced myself to stay upright, to drink her in. Fever, blood, and stitches be damned.

The shivers wouldn't stop. My whole body trembled like I'd been dragged into an ice bath, even though sweat clung to my skin. I hated it. Hated being this weak, hated the way my teeth chattered no matter how hard I clenched them.

"Fucking hell, you're pathetic," Rue muttered. But a second later, her warmth pressed against me.

"You're warm," I rasped, my voice rough.

"Don't make this weird," she shot back instantly.

I turned my head just enough to see her eyes in the dim glow of the streetlights.

She groaned under her breath, "Do you even realize how toxic this is? How messy we are?"

"Yes." I replied hoarsely. I didn't care. I'd take messy. I'd take toxic. I'd take her.

Her jaw tightened, her gaze slipping away.

I coughed into my handkerchief, my chest aching.

"Rue..." I started, and she cut me off.

"My dad found out."

The fever fog cleared in an instant. My grip on her hoodie tightened. "What?"

She exhaled shakily. "He knows about us. He said if I don't cut this off...whatever this is, he'll take back the deal. Everything I've worked for, everything I've clawed my way towards... he'll burn it down."

I could hear the tremor in her voice. I knew it meant a lot to her.

"I can't ask you to choose me over that," I whispered, and she tensed, her gaze meeting mine.

"W-what?"

"All I want," I breathed, my chest heaving. "Is your permission to let me stay by your side and worship you like you deserve."

Her eyes went wide, and she parted her lips to give me a response, my heart pounding faster in anticipation.