Not My Brute (Angels of War Series #2)

Chapter Twenty-five*

Unedited ❤️

A loud banging sound interrupts my dreams. I try to keep my eyes closed because I'm tired and by the none existent sounds outside, it's still early. But, sleep is not coming back. It's useless as the noise gets louder followed by a loud grunt.

Bret.

I can see his shadow in the corner, my eyes trying to get used to the dark. I'm not sure what he's doing up here because he was pretty insistent of me having the single bed while he took the couch downstairs.

I choose to ask him. "What're you doing?"

"Shit," he hisses, his shadow spinning to look at me. "You scared me."

"You woke me up," I respond, covering my mouth when a yawn takes over.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, making more noise.

Now he's annoying me. It's the middle of the damn night. "Bret, what're you doing?"

"I'm going for a run."

"At this hour?" I respond, thinking that he's lost his mind.

Bret lets out a long sigh. "It's four am. I couldn't sleep after my nightmare. I need to burn off some steam."

Now I feel bad.

I turn over in the bed to switch on the lamp on the table beside me. I pat the bed, watching him clutch the gym shorts to his stomach, eyes wide and scared. "Come and chat."

"I always run after an episode," he lets me know.

I nod, hating that he had to go through this alone. "And, now I'm here. Sit."

Bret hops over to me, sitting towards the end of the bed. It hits me that he climbed the stairs - in the dark - without his prosthetic. "I don't like to talk."

"You like talking to me," I say, grabbing his hand to pull him my way.

The big guy is putty in my hands when he slides further up the bed, towards me. "You should sleep."

I inform him that I was asleep minutes ago until he disturbed me. Bret apologises for the second time, telling me that he tried his hardest to be quiet. I let it go.

"Tell me about your dream."

Bret closes his eyes. "You were in it."

My heart does a dance in my chest, stealing the air from my lungs. "Me? You dream about me?"

"Yes, but they're not nice dreams."

"Oh," I say, tone losing all excitement.

"You die in them," he whispers, eyes still firmly shut.

A shudder runs down my spine at his words. "I die in them?"

"Yes," he slowly opens his eyes and there's no light left. It's devastating. "I'm in camp. Trying to sleep when I hear your voice. I get up because I know someone bad is out there. I see you in the distance and you see me. You start running my way when a masked stranger appears with a gun, shooting you dead in front of me."

"Oh, Bret."

"It's usually Oscar, but for the last few nights it's been you," he says, the words seeming painful to him.

I shuffle close enough to be able to wrap my arms around his waist. "It's a dream. I'm here. I'm okay."

Bret folds his arms around me and buries his nose in my hair. "I know it's a dream, but it freaks me out."