Chapter 130: The Weight of a Fall 2

Damon’s POV

I immediately wrapped my arms around his shoulders, pulling him tight against my chest, locking him into my embrace.

"Don’t worry," I whispered softly into his ear, my own voice shaking with an emotion I couldn’t control. "You’re safe. You’re completely safe now, Micah."

"I... I thought I was going to die," he cried, his tears soaking right through my tailored shirt, burning against my skin. "Damon... I thought I was really dead... I was falling..."

"I know. I know," I murmured, feeling a terrible, sickening ache inside my chest.

Seeing him this broken made me feel like the absolute worst piece of trash on the planet. The memory of the mall flashed behind my eyes... the way I had let Jennifer hold my arm, the way I had looked right into Micah’s terrified eyes and said those cursed words: I don’t know him.

He had felt completely abandoned. He had walked toward his death thinking that no one cared.

I tightened my arms around him, pulling him so close that not a single inch of air separated us. I buried my face into his soft, messy hair, kissing the crown of his head over and over again.

"I’m sorry," I whispered, my voice thick with genuine, bleeding remorse. "I’m so fucking sorry for leaving you alone at that mall, Micah. I should have grabbed you. I should never have walked away from you. Please forgive me... Forgive me, my dear Micah."

Micah didn’t answer with words. He just pressed his face deeper into my chest, his small, trembling frame shaking as he wept against my neck, clinging to me as if I were the only solid thing left in the universe.

Suddenly, a terrifying, bloodcurdling shriek echoed from the third floor above us.

"NOOOO—!"

The scream cut through the open air, followed immediately by the whistling sound of a heavy object falling rapidly from the sky.

WHOOSH.

A dark figure plummeted past our second-floor ledge.

CRUNCH-THUD.

A sickening, wet, heavy impact reverberated from the ground courtyard below, followed by the dull rattle of loose granite stones and bending metal.

Micah gasped in horror, flinching violently in my arms. He started to pull his head away from my chest, his wide, panicked eyes darting toward the open ledge to see what had just fallen.

Before he could see the carnage, I snapped my hand out, grabbed the back of his head, and firmly pressed his face right back into my chest.

"Don’t look," I commanded softly, my fingers sliding through his hair, shielding his vision completely. "Don’t look down there, Micah. It was nothing."

I didn’t need to look down there either to know what had happened.

The kidnapper was dead. There was no way anyone could survive that drop onto those rusted iron rebar spikes. Noah had clearly pulverized the bastard on the third floor and hurled his body off the edge like a bag of garbage.

The heavy, steady sound of footsteps began descending the metal scaffolding stairs behind us.

CLANG. CLANG. CLANG.

An imposing figure stepped off the final metal rung, stepping onto the concrete slab of the second floor.

"Where is...?"

Noah’s voice echoed through the space.

He was covered in dirt. Both of his hands were completely drenched in dark, fresh crimson blood, the thick liquid dripping steadily from his knuckles onto the floor. His eyes were cold, scanning the room until they locked onto the two of us sitting on the floor.

The moment Micah heard Noah’s voice, his entire body stiffened.

He pulled away from my chest, his face completely flushed red, his nose running, and his eyes swollen from crying. He didn’t even look at me. The second he recognized his brother standing there, Micah scrambled to his feet on trembling legs and threw himself across the room.

"Noah!" Micah cried out, slamming himself straight into Noah’s chest.

He wrapped his bound arms around Noah’s waist, burying his face into Noah’s dark jacket, clutching him so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

I sat there on the cold concrete, watching them.

A sharp, ugly pang of intense jealousy twisted violently in my gut.

I was jealous of both of them.

I looked at Noah, feeling that familiar, bitter sting. I had spent years playing alongside my icy captain, yet I had never once gotten a genuine, warm embrace from him. But worse than that, I looked at Micah clinging to Noah’s jacket, and my chest burned with pure possessive frustration.

I wanted Micah to hug me like that. I wanted him to cry only in my arms. I was the one who caught him. I was the one who risked my neck and hauled him off that net. Why the hell was he running straight into Noah’s arms the second the danger passed?

Noah stood completely frozen for a second.

His bloody hands hovered awkwardly in the air, kept carefully away from Micah’s back. Even in his unhinged, violent state, Noah didn’t want to get a single drop of that filth onto Micah’s clean sweater.

Noah looked down at the boy in his arms, his icy blue eyes softening into something deep, intense, and painfully raw.

"Are you hurt?" Noah asked, his voice dropping into a low, gentle rumble that was meant only for Micah. "Did he touch you? Did he break anything?"

Micah sniffled hard, shaking his head rapidly against Noah’s chest before slowly pulling back to look up at him. "N-no... I’m okay... I’m not hurt..."

Noah let out a long, heavy breath through his nose, his shoulders dropping by a fraction of an inch.

"Thank goodness," Noah muttered softly.

I scoffed out loud, pushing myself up from the dirty floor and brushing off my ruined trousers.

"Excuse me?" I said, raising an eyebrow as I walked toward them, crossing my arms over my aching ribs. "Thank goodness? Isn’t it thanks to me?"

Noah’s head snapped up.

His eyes locked onto mine, narrowing into two lethal, murderous slits. The gentle expression vanished in a millisecond, replaced by that terrifying, demon-like glare that made people want to run for their lives.

I instinctively flinched, taking a small step back. For a second, I genuinely thought he was going to walk over and punch my head off my shoulders for letting Micah get taken in the first place.

Noah stared at me in heavy, suffocating silence.

Then, to my complete surprise, he turned his head away, staring out toward the empty window frame.

He took a slow breath, his jaw tightening, before his lips moved in a low, quiet murmur.

"...Thank you."

My jaw dropped open.

My eyes widened until they felt like they were going to pop out of my skull.

I stood frozen in the middle of the floor, staring at the back of Noah’s head in absolute, dumbfounded shock.

Wait.

Wait. Wait. Wait.

Did Noah fucking Miller just thank me?

The cold-blooded, arrogant, sociopathic captain who looked at everyone like insects under his shoes... actually just said thank you to a Silver?

Is this... an actual dream?