My Maddie (Hades Hangmen #8)(10)

“You nailed it, Li.” Sia sat on the edge of Lilah’s bed. “My nieces and nephew are the best. And you deserve all of this. And despite getting on my last nerve, so does Ky. But don’t tell him. He already has a big enough ego.” Lilah laughed, and Sia winked.

The door to the room opened and Grace ran in. “Mama! I made Zane buy me all the things! And I even got a few snacks for you too.” Sia slid from the bed and Grace jumped into her arms.

“Thank you, baby,” Lilah said, smiling at her daughter.

“Aunt Sia?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“I think Zane is real pretty.”

Sia’s eyes widened. “Do not, under any circumstances, let your papa hear you say that!” I laughed at the worried look on Sia’s and Lilah’s faces.

“Why not? Papa said I shouldn’t ever lie to him. Especially about boys.”

“There are some lies that are necessary,” Sia countered, sitting down on her chair with Grace on her lap. “The ones that stop Zane from being skinned alive are essential.”

“What’s this about Zane?” Ky’s voice came from the doorway. AK and Styx following.

“Err, he was good, you know, getting Gracie-girl some snacks,” Sia uttered, tripping over her words. Ky frowned at his sister, shook his head and then focused on his wife.

My sisters moved so Ky could pick up the babies. He lifted Azrael in his arms. Turning to Styx, he said, “Meet the future VP of the Hangmen.” Styx smirked and picked up Charon, who was wriggling in Mae’s arms. As I watched Ky and Styx holding their sons, then Ky giving Lilah Azrael and taking hold of Talitha, all I saw was Flame holding our baby one day. Smiling as freely as Styx and Ky. Flame did not smile much. I prayed we could one day be just like this.

As though my heart sensed him near, my gaze drifted to the open doorway. Flame stood beyond the door; his attention fixed intently on me. “Flame,” I acknowledged and held out my hand. He saw my offered hand, but then firmly shook his head. His gaze darted to the babies, and I saw raw fear in his stare. He stumbled back a few steps but forced himself stand his ground, keeping me firmly in sight. My heart split in two at the sheer panic on his face. His hands were curled into fists at his side, and I could see his brow glistening with stress. My husband did not like hospitals because of what he endured before AK and Viking found him in a psychiatric hospital. But seeing him like this… it destroyed me.

I moved to Lilah’s side. She held both babies once again. “I need to go home,” I insisted quietly, not wanting to disturb the happy conversations around me. Lilah’s gaze drifted over my shoulder to Flame. She nodded softly and I kissed her goodbye. I ran my finger over each of the twins’ cheeks. “I will be back soon, little ones.”

“It will all work out. Trust in this, sister,” Lilah said with conviction. I left the room and approached Flame. His eyes were wide and fearful, the whites too bright against his midnight irises. Holding out my hand, I said, “Shall we go home?” He nodded vigorously, but when I went to hold his hand, he flinched and pulled it back toward his chest, as if my touch were infectious. My pulse kicked into a frantic, panicked beat. Flame stepped back from me—one single but heavy step. In that moment it felt like we were an ocean apart. Even worse, after he had moved, I caught sight of his wrist. My heart shattered when I saw the drying blood staining his tattooed skin. He had been digging his nails into his skin. Only this time, he had managed to pierce the flesh.

Dread washed through me. He was getting worse.

“Flame… baby…” I whispered and slowly approached him, hands at my sides. Flame’s nostrils flared at my proximity. But he did not move away when I reached his taut and fearful frame. My soul began to cry. What could be causing this? Why did he suddenly fear me, the only person he had ever let in? Fear my touch, the touch that calmed his demons? I felt sick. Not with my pregnancy, but with the loss of my husband’s acceptance. It was the most treasured thing we both had—the freedom to touch and love the other without payment or condition. “Shall we go home?” I prayed my voice was not shaking, even though inside I trembled like a leaf shuddering in a Fall storm. I did not put my hand in his, nor did I attempt to touch him and cause him pain. I needed to get him home, where he felt safe.

Flame turned and walked beside me in silence, into the elevator and then out of the hospital. I hoped that being out of the building would relax him some, but it did not. He kept glancing my way, his dark eyebrows pulled down in worry.

The truck’s engine sounded as loud as cracking thunder as we drove, still without a word, out of downtown Austin and then to the Hangmen compound. The moment we were in the privacy of our home, I turned to face my husband. Holding out my hand, I begged, “Take my hand, baby.”

I watched him. Studied every move he made for answers. As I dangled my hand in the fragile space between us, I saw his eyes flare and his lips grow tight. Flame’s fingers twitched. I knew he wanted me. I could see the longing in his desperate gaze. It broke my heart. Flame’s fears often broke my heart. My husband, part dangerous killer and ultimate protector, part lost and broken soul forever seeking some kind of light. “Please, baby,” I said, this time losing the battle to stop the trembling in my voice. “It is me. Your Maddie. Your wife.”

“My Maddie,” Flame croaked, his face contorted with pain. He shook his head, and before I could comfort him, he brought his hands to the side of his skull and began to hit himself. “Not again. I can’t do this again.”