Nixon

••• Thirty-Four •••

"You've got to understand that this isn't just your typical forced entry," he shouts, his voice filling the empty halls. "These savages attacked my pregnant wife and left her to die." I find myself pulling the covers closer to my body, wrapping them around my head as the noise bothers me. "This is not something that you forget, this is something that you make sure cannot happen again. Zion wanted Lily to die and didn't even care that she was pregnant." He is right about that.

I peek over the covers of the bed, towards one of the doors that lead into the bathroom. It has been almost a week since I walked into our house to find Zion and his men in the grand entrance, destroying the walls and even allowing the chandelier to fall...to torture me and leave me there with glass in my flesh and blood staining the floor. Since then the house has been put back together, the walls redone and the floor cleaned to perfectin, and the chandelier that fell is replaced with an even grander one. The second an ambulance picked me up and rushed me to the hospital, Nixon was beside me the entire time, holding onto hope that not just I would be okay, but our child as well.

I survived the attack. I survived the glass within my flesh, the hits to my stomach and chest, and the loss of blood. I survived what I thought was going to be how I perished: in the arms of Nixon as help was just seconds away. Nixon made sure I stayed awake, that I did not shut my eyes or allow myself to lose my grip on life. Stitches in each hand, stitches in in my ankles, and stitches running along my jaw, I still find it hard to believe the amount of blood that I lost.

I still find it hard to believe that my child is still safe.

The doctors said that it is a miracle that I was able to keep this child, for it to undergo emense stress and pain and yet still be safe. Nixon says that this miracle is from Selene herself, a blessing from the Moon Goddess that perhaps means that our child's guardian angel is the Moon Goddess herself.

"Lily?" His soft voice calls out, eyes locking with my gentle gaze as I prop myself up on my elbows as I lie down still. "I hate to do this but I have a meeting to attend."

"Nixon, you're fine," I explain, knowing how much he wants to be here for me. He has his top warriors guarding the house, making sure no more harm can come from that bastard Zion. "You have things to do and you have held them off for too long."

"They are worth holding off if it means I get to stand beside you," Nixon explains, walking over to me and gently holding my bandaged hand. "I would hold off the world if it meant keeping you safe."

My heart feels a tug, one provoked by the sweet words that he speaks as I lie in bed weak. With my hair needing to be colored at the roots again, dark bags under my eyes, bloodshot eyes, an ugly scar to be left long the underside of my jaw, my nose holding black bruises, and my hands and ankles wrapped up for protection, a part of me wonders if Sybil knows what her husband has done. A part of me wants to see Zion lying on the floor as he had left me, but unlike me, I want him lifeless. No one should be able to get away with attacking not just a woman, but one who is pregnant as well.

"Where is the meeting?" I ask, knowing that Nixon needs to take care of business.

He sits down next to me on the bed. "My office at the pack house."

"That's barely a drive and you have your best warriors looking after me. You can go and I will be fine," I inform, glancing to the simple platinum ring around his finger. "You have duties." We took a vow, a vow to stand beside one another and keep one another grounded. We took a vow to protect the other. Nixon is protecting me even if he isn't here because he has placed his best guards around the territory of our house.

Nixon moves closer, arm around my shoulder as he holds me close as he avoids the bruises and cuts upon my body. Every time he looks at what Zion did to me, every time his eyes move to my bandaged and bruises, it is as if hate is radiating off of him in powerful waves to fuel a hurricane. "I'll go and try to be back as soon as I can manage," Nixon decides, kissing the top of my head as I still feel my body sore from the act of hate Zion made me into. I am living proof to Nixon that Zion and his little game is not yet over, that Zion is not finished with the sins committed by the two of them. All due to one woman, a woman who held these men in the palm of her hand and paid them until she realized her mistakes too late. "Do you care if I grab us some takeout?"