44. Max

T he moment Ben is yanked from behind me, I know exactly who by. Turning myself over, I jump to my feet pulling my leggings back up, the pain in my side from where the branch pierced my skin is killing me. The agony radiating from the wound and shuddering throughout my upper body.

Yet, with what I'm looking at right now, what I can't take my eyes off of—the pain in my chest is nothing to what Ben will be going through—

I called for him. He came for me.

Draven is perched over Ben and within a split second, I hear the crack of his chest plate. The sound coming from under Draven's foot as he stops down on him.

"Please—" Ben begs, but the words don't come out clearly. Draven doesn't let him finish. Ben's eyes are wild, tears springing from the corners, silently begging to be free from the man above him. The man I'm pretty sure in a few seconds will be ripping him to pieces and all I'll do is watch.

Ben's pleas are barely audible before Draven smashes his foot down on his jaw, cracking it. Sending teeth and blood flying everywhere.

"Draven!" I shout, I don't want it over quickly. I want it to be painful, I want Ben to hurt, because after all these years, he was there. He knew what happened to me. He let me believe he was my friend. He gave me—what I thought—was a safe space.

At least up until this weekend. Up until I met a man that would kill for me, has killed for me.

Ben was there. I want him to suffer like I suffered. Just like the rest of them.

I've seen Draven work before. I've seen his rage and I've seen the power beneath his hands when they come into contact with someone who hurts me. I witnessed enough of it when he ruined Po but this, this is different altogether. He's shaking yet filled with so much rage, I'm unsure of how he is functioning right now.

His voice is different, deeper, and more Devilish, and even though I'm not scared—because I know Draven would never hurt me—I can't bring myself to move.

"Draven?!" I call.

Nothing.

He's out, the lights are on within him but there is absolutely no one home right now. Watching Ben cough and choke on his own blood—as it begins falling down the back of his throat—I feel nothing but pride. Happiness, in this moment. Watching a man, I once called friend, using the last of his breath to beg and plead to the monster above him, but that will never work. Not with Draven.

"Draven, baby, can you hear me?"

Again, nothing.

I'm not getting through to him, and I'm not surprised, the rage inside him clearly won't allow for that. In a split second, Draven drives his Bowie Knife directly through the crossed hands of Ben's that lie over his weak excuse for a cock, twisting it as it enters, and I jump back slightly in shock.

Ben still tries to fight for his life, but I can't hear the words. I can't hear anything being said. The ringing in my ears sounds like a wind tunnel and everything goes silent.

I watch with morbid curiosity as the man I've come to fall for, avenges me. Brutalizing that which threatened to hurt me. Working on behalf of the female rage inside of me I don't have the energy to complete. Time and time again over the course of this weekend, he has shown me I will always be safe with him. And for the first time, I believe someone.

I believe him.

The sound of the outside world threads back into my ears, and I watch as Draven breathes heavily over Ben's corpse. His chest and shoulders heaving, and I take a single step forward, trying to stay calm. Medically, when someone blacks out, you need to stay as calm as possible and most of all, approach with extreme caution. Similar to when dealing with someone who sleepwalks. They don't want to, but sometimes they can unintentionally lash out. And I don't want to die.

"Draven?" I breathe softly, taking another step toward him.

I know Draven would never hurt me—unless I asked him to—but right now this is about bringing him back from wherever he is. I take a deep breathe, steadying my nerves and trying again.

"Draven, baby?" My voice calm. "I need you to come back to me."

Still nothing. He's really deep.

One more step and I am directly behind him. "Draven?"

He turns so fast; I barely register it. "Max?"

Holding my hands up in front of him, I smile, "Easy, Big Guy." His breathing begins to shallow, color coming back to his face and his beautiful grey eyes I've come to adore, begin retuning back to normal. Looking beside him at Ben's lifeless body that looks like it's been ripped to shreds by a wild animal, something pops in my head and who am I, if not consistent with the humor.

"Well," I scoff, looking back at him and smiling. "Weird marriage proposal but I accept." I giggle.

Taking a step toward me he pulls me into his arms. "Are you okay?" He asks.

"I'm good," I wince, "But you're choking me and this time I don't want that." Pushing me back, he drops to a knee, running his hands all over my body. Turning me around and checking for what I don't know. The moment his hands press over the hole where the branch pierced my gut, I wince.

"What was this?" He looks down at me.

"It's nothing, I'm good." Lifting my top, his eyes widen slightly at all the dried blood on my stomach.

"Draven," I press my hands to either side of his face, raising his head to look at me. "I'm fine I promise."

"Fucking Hell itself," he breathes, wrapping his fingers around my hips and pulling me close. "Thank you for calling to me…"

"I'll always call for you. What's wrong?" I ask. The look on his face tells me something is going on in his head he won't tell me. "Draven? Answer me, please." I drop my hands to his shoulders.

Immediately he drags me to him, sliding his hand up between us to cup my cheek and pulling me into a gentle kiss. Taking a breath, he presses his forehead to mine, his tone low. "Max… I'm sorry."

"Hey." I smile. "I'm fine, you saved me ok?" I chuckle. "Death saved me."

Pulling back, the corner of his mouth twitches. "Weird marriage proposal huh, Petit Mouton ?" His laugh is that gravelly one I like, it tingles my skin. Goosebumps shoot out where the sound hits and my face drops.

"Since when do you laugh at me?"

"Since right now."

"Oh shit!" I exclaim, stepping out of his hold and pulling the cuff of his sleeve back to reveal his watch. "11:50." Happy we have enough time to make it to the exit.

"Max," he breathes.

"Come on." I take his hand in mine, and he presses his other hand to his bent knee, pushing against it. "We need to go; we have ten minutes and I'm fucking starving." I giggle. "I could really use a—"

"Max!" He calls, stopping me from what I was saying. His voice bleeding into the freezing cold air. When I turn around, I'm hit with something I can't initially get my head around. Draven holds his shirt down at the neck, revealing the same metal collar around his, that's around mine. And that's when it hits me, that's when I remember everything. He can't come into the mazes without… No .

"Draven, what is that around your neck?" I point, knowing full well what it is; not needing him to explain, but needing to hear it none the less.