Beyond the Horizon (Sons of Templar MC #4)(93)

Of her small form sucking at the air desperately, at that horrible sound coming from her chest. Of the burnt mess on her palm, the bloodstained wrists. She had fought. His flower had fought against the flames.

It wasn’t that that haunted him. No. It was the look on her soot-stained face as she rested in his arms. It wasn’t panicked like the faces of many men he’d seen facing death. It was calm. Peaceful. She accepted her fate. Her beautiful eyes said goodbye to him, and she faced death with a bravery he didn’t even know he’d have when the reaper came for him. Then there was nothing. Then he lost her. Her body turned limp in his arms, and he had placed his palm over her chest. Like he had many times when he watched her struggle. When she was asleep and he lay there, silent and sentinel, waiting for her body to betray her. Unlike those times, his hand didn’t move with the rise and fall of her chest. His hand didn’t move at all. His hands tightened on his head.

He felt someone enter the room. They stood in front of him. “Any news?” the voice asked.

Asher didn’t look up. Didn’t move. “No,” he clipped, struggling to keep his voice from shaking.

He felt the air move as the figure sat beside him. A hand rested on his shoulder.

“She’s going to make it through, brother. She’s strong,” Cade told him firmly.

“Yeah, she’s strong,” Asher agreed. Strength didn’t guarantee survival. Today was a grim reminder of that. “Lucky?” he asked with resignation. His brother had taken two to the chest, inhaled major amounts of smoke. The paramedics were performing CPR the moment they had arrived on the scene. Like they did with Lily.

“Still in surgery,” Cade replied tersely.

At this, Asher looked to his president’s tight face. “He’s alive?” he asked with disbelief.

Cade nodded. “For now.”

Some part of Asher that had been coiled tight relaxed a smidgeon. Enough that the vice around his chest made him feel like he could breathe, barely.

“Got the women at the club on lockdown, till we figure out who the f*ck this is,” he continued, his voice hard.

Asher nodded, unable to usher up the required fury for those responsible. It would come. He’d rip the fingernails off every single person connected to this. For now, his energy was focused on his wife. On hope. That his beautiful woman would make it out of this.

“Whoever it is, they’ve got big balls,” Cade bit out. “I’m going to f*ckin’ relish cutting them off.”

“You got word on Bex?” Asher asked. Things weren’t looking good for her, considering no one could get a lock on her, and it was her phone that lured Lily to the strip club in the first place.

“We’ve got Wire on it,” Cade answered after a moment.

Both of their heads snapped up as a tired looking doctor entered the room.

“Which one of you is Mrs. Breslin’s husband?” he asked, glancing at a chart.

Asher pushed out of his chair with such force it rattled to the ground.

He advanced on the doctor. “I am,” he clipped. He couldn’t say anything else.

“Your wife is breathing on her own now, Mr. Breslin,” the doctor told him.

Asher’s entire body sagged. “I need to see her,” he demanded immediately, cutting off whatever else the doctor had to say. That could wait. He needed to see with his own eyes. Needed to touch her. Or else those thoughts of her still chest would rip him apart.

“She’s sedated and suffering from significant burns to her hand,” the doctor tried to explain again.

Fury had its space to grow with the knowledge that Lily was okay, fury that he’d tamped down for the time being.

“I need to see her, now,” he repeated. He wasn’t taking no for an answer.

The man must have seen this on his face because he didn’t say anything else, merely nodded.

“Follow me.”

Asher sank into a chair beside the bed holding Lily’s small form. His hand immediately darted out to cover her small chest and breathed easy for the first time in hours at the movement of his hand.

He grasped her small hand, it disappeared in his large one. He brought it up to his mouth and kissed it lightly.

“I’m here, baby,” he whispered. “I’m here. You’re not alone.”





Three Weeks Later



One week. That’s how long I was in the hospital for. My lungs had sustained significant damage from smoke inhalation, and my hand was severely burned, the pain was like nothing I’d ever experienced. The skin was light pink now it was healing. It would scar, not that Asher would let me live with the physical reminder. We’d be seeing a plastic surgeon as soon as it was properly healed. I didn’t care about the pain on the outside. It was the stuff on the inside that couldn’t be repaired by a plastic surgeon. Not even my husband’s gentle touch or his strong arms that encircled me every moment he wasn’t out hunting for them. The people that did this. That shot Lucky. That almost killed me. That still had Bex.

I braced myself on the kitchen counter. Pressure built on my chest once more. I had an overwhelming urge to sink to the ground, to hug my knees to my chest and surrender to the weight that was pushing me down.

The moment I thought my strength would waver, that I would collapse, strong arms encircled me and the weight lightened a fraction.