Fated Series. Book #2
"Be possessive of me, own me, keep me, because if you do then nothing and no one else can." - Maddox.
My name is Maddox Vallero, and I'm dead.
Well, that's not quite true. I'm alive in the breathing, walking, talking sense-but...
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Chapter 47 Blood Pact for Life Maddox
Third time's the charm. That's what people say. But I call bullshit. It's just a pretty excuse for failing again. How many tries until you quit? At what point do you stop calling it persistence and start calling it delusion?
Wherever that line is, I've hit it. Slammed face-first into it.
Sleep and I are not on speaking terms tonight. The nightmares keep getting worse—more vivid, more unbearable. Every time I fall back asleep, I'm right back there: frozen concrete beneath me, the sting of iron in the air circling like it knows it owns me. My mouth sewn shut. My best friend dying in front of me.
I can't beg him to fight harder—his body's already limp.
I can't ask him not to leave me—he already has.
I can't tell him how many times his presence kept me sane.
And I can't say how much I need him—because it's too late.
So I sit. I stare. I blink. But I don't speak.
When the third one hit, ripping me from sleep with a gasp, I didn't even try again. The first two times, I found Sophia in the dark, curled beside me, warm and grounding. But not this time. I couldn't go back there. Instead, I stayed up and watched her sleep—not in a creepy way. Okay, maybe a little. But she was glowing in the moonlight, and God, even with her blonde hair stuck to the side of her face, she looked like salvation. The curve of her jaw, the soft rise and fall of her chest—flawless. Every part of me was filled with her, and I didn't want it any other way.
As if sensing my unraveling, she shifted in her sleep, inching toward me until her face tucked into my side, arm flung over my torso. I smiled. Rested my head against the frame. Let my hand graze her bare shoulder. And I stayed like that for a while. My demons didn't stand a chance. It wasn't until Jax stirred in his crib that I slid out of bed without waking her and pulled the blanket up over her shoulder before heading to the crib. Jax was already sitting up, rubbing his eyes with one hand, the other still wrapped around his oversized teddy.
"Little man," I whispered, leaning over the rail to scoop him up, "you wake up just to say hi?"
Still half-asleep, he nodded. "Yes," he yawned.
I chuckled, carrying him toward the kitchen. "Aren't you thoughtful."
The apartment was still dim. Stephen Sanchez hummed softly in the background—Lina's playlist. The scent of pastries lingered, and everyone from movie night was still knocked out in the living room. Lina was buried under a blanket like a ghost of herself. Aster was curled up tight, her phone screen still glowing beside her. Lily was draped over Ash like a weighted blanket, and the guy hadn't even budged.
I liked this. All of us under one roof. It hadn't happened in a while. Our lives had gotten loud and complicated. Sleepovers used to be a weekly thing. Not anymore.
