Page 54 of Fallen Prince
I nodded, but I rubbed the smooth back of my locket for comfort. I wasn’t sure if I needed soothing because of the implication that I was a vindictive bitch or because I was still rattled by what Gavin had done.
Max’s eyes fixed on the necklace. “You don’t have to be anxious.” He nodded toward where my fingers worried at the warm gold. “I’ve noticed that you touch it when you’re stressed. I’ve never seen you without it,” he explained.
I blinked at him. His perceptiveness should’ve been slightly unnerving, but his intense focus on my every move made my stomach flip in a decidedly feminine response. Max made me nervous in all the right ways.
“It’s all I have left of my mother,” I admitted, sharing the information without thought. Max would never use it to hurt me. He’d protected me so many times. I could trust him.
“We lost everything in the fire,” I murmured. “I was wearing this when my dad carried me out of the burning house. It was my grandmother’s—her name was Alexandra, too. My mom was very close with her, and she wanted me to know that we shared thesame tight bond. She gave it to me when I turned ten.” The picture of my mother and me that I kept safely locked inside was the only physical photo that existed from the time before the fire. Before we’d lost her.
For a moment, the flames filled my vision. My throat burned from my screams, and my father’s arms were iron bands around my chest.
“I didn’t go back for her,” I whispered. “I wanted to save her, but I didn’t.” The smoke seemed to choke my lungs, and my eyes stung.
Max curled two fingers beneath my chin, lifting my face to his so he could lock me in his intense black stare. I fell into the bottomless pools of his eyes, desperate to drown in them, to lose myself in him.
“There was nothing you could’ve done.” His voice was roughened by his own pain.
I sniffled and swiped at the tears on my cheeks. “Sorry.” I managed a watery apology. “I know you lost your mother too. It must have been hard for you.”
His jaw hardened to granite. I pressed my palm against his cheek. His teeth stopped grinding beneath my tender touch, and the angry mask fellaway. His brow furrowed with the pain that he kept so deeply buried.
“You couldn’t have saved your mother,” he said. “You’re not responsible for her death.” What was meant to be a comforting statement came out in a gravelly rasp. “I can’t say the same. My mom died because I was too weak to save her.”
I brushed my thumb over his cheekbone, commanding his attention and grounding him to me. “I’m sure that’s not true,” I countered softly. “You would’ve been a child when she died, right? What could you have possibly done?”
His eyes blazed, but he didn’t pull away. “I watched them murder her,” he snarled. “The Russians brutalized her before they killed her, and I watched. I didn’t stop them.”
I forgot how to breathe. “Max…” His name was a tight exhalation, and my eyes burned hotter.
His blind hatred and prejudice against Niko suddenly made awful sense, and I understood his misguided vendetta against my father with terrible clarity. If his family had told him that my dad had colluded with the Bratva—the criminal organization responsible for murdering his mother right in front of him—it was no wonder that he loathed Ron Fitzgerald.
The weight of the realization crushed my heart, and the tears I shed were for him, for the agonized boy who’d endured unimaginable trauma and had blamed himself for over a decade.
“I was thirteen,” he seethed. “Old enough to take on a man’s responsibilities when it counted. I failed, and she died because of me.”
Oh, Max.
“You’re not responsible,” I whispered, echoing the words he’d said to me.
I’d never realized how bound we were by similar pain. We both harbored a deep self-loathing, carrying guilt like a boulder on our shoulders. But where I’d hidden behind false smiles, Max had constructed his mask of rage to contain the terrible truth that we both held at our core.
I wasn’t ready to let go of my guilt. I didn’t know how to exist without it. If I released the strength it took to endure the strain, I might shatter into a million pieces.
He probably felt the same. I wouldn’t push him to absolve himself, because I didn’t want to break him.
Wordlessly, I pressed my forehead to his. He flinched when I made contact with his scar, so I caressed his face, allowing my fingers to slide over thedamaged flesh for the first time. I wound them into his unruly curls, anchoring him to me. His massive body shuddered, and he leaned into my touch.
“Allie…” My name was a soft, pained groan.
My doorbell rang, shattering the moment like a lightning strike. Max jolted away from me, and he was yanking on his clothes before I could blink. Confusion slowed my reaction time.
Who would come to my house at this time of night? It had to be past ten o’clock by now.
My heart stuttered. What if Gavin had come back to torment me? Max would beat him to a bloody pulp. I couldn’t allow him to get charged with assault for my sake.
Hastily, I found my pajamas and tugged them on, racing after him. Max’s boots thundered over the tiles in my foyer as he rushed to confront whoever was outside.
I ran toward my front door, hastily buttoning my top.
