✓ WICKED VOWS| JAKE (Book II )

50-Devious Apologies & Shattering Pleasure

Jake's pov

The lights were on in the house, but the normal beacon of stability to cling to in all the chaos did not feel like home. Not tonight. As soon as my car came to a stop, I could see David waiting by the entrance. His expression was grim but composed.

Beside him stood Will, a close friend and a doctor who had patched me up more times than I cared to count. He had his medical bag in hand as if I didn't have all of the requirements in. Ana didn't wait for any pleasantries.

She pushed past both David and Will the moment we exited the car, her eyes held on some point inside while she strode into the mansion. She was done with the drama for the night, and I knew enough not to get in her way. I followed her inside, David and Will close behind. My castle was silent, almost eerily so, as we walked towards the lounge room. We walked into the lounge, and Will gestured for me to take a seat on one of the plush couches. The tension of the night still lingered in the air, and I could feel the exhaustion creeping in; there was no way in hell I was going to let myself rest just yet.

"Let me have a gander at that arm, Jake," he said, his voice professional but underneath, with a familiarity that came from years of friendship. I reluctantly sat down, feeling the adrenaline that had been holding me up finally begin to ebb and leaving behind a dull throbbing pain in my arm. Will get to work quickly, and efficiently, cutting away the blood-soaked sleeve of my shirt to have a look at the wound. His hands were steady and methodical, yet despite the pain, I felt myself grateful for his presence.

Ana hovered by the doorway for a second, watching Will clean and bandage the wound. Her expression was unyielding, the fire in her eyes from a while ago now smothered, replaced by something quieter, more introspective. She said nothing but turned and left the room in the direction of our bedroom. I watched her go, my chest tightening with a mix of frustration and something else—something I couldn't quite name. I wanted to follow her, to talk to her, to make some sense out of everything that had happened, but I knew that, for now, we both needed space. Will finish bandaging up my arm. His face was somber as he gave me a once-over.

"Easy does it, Jake. The bullet itself didn't do too much damage, but you've lost a fair amount of blood, and you're running on fumes." I just grunted in reply. My mind was already elsewhere. The pain was bearable, but the real wounds—those to my pride, to my trust in Ana—were still raw, still bleeding. David, who had been standing by the door, watching the exchange with his usual calm demeanor, stepped forward as Will packed up his medical bag. "You should get some rest, Jake," David said, his voice steady, almost fatherly.

"I'll take care of everything tonight. You don't need to worry." I cast him a sideways glance, anger rising once more against the drag of my exhaustion.

"I don't need a babysitter, David," I said, and though it was meant to be more quieted, it still came out sharper than I intended. "I'm fine." David didn't flinch, just nodded, his expression unreadable.

"I know, but you're no good to anyone if you collapse from exhaustion. Let me handle things tonight." I grumbled something unintelligible under my breath. I wasn't up for a fight. The truth is, I was tired—bone-deep tired—but there was no way I could sleep now. Not after all that had happened, not with the storm still blowing with gale force inside of me. Will clapped me on the shoulder, careful to avoid my injured arm.

"Take it easy, Jake. Call me if you need anything." I nodded, watching as both Will and David left the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts. This mansion was too large, too hollow, the silence weighing on me like a weight I couldn't shake off. I shoved myself up from the sofa, trying to shrug off the twinge in my arm, and crossed the room to the liquor cabinet.