My Maddie Read online Tillie Cole (Hades Hangmen #8)

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Biker, Crime, MC, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Hades Hangmen Series by Tillie Cole
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Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 102136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
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Immediately, I could breathe some.

I tried to tell myself that my touch couldn’t be hurting her. But then I pictured her with the baby. I couldn’t hold babies. I hurt them. I’d killed my brother. My poppa had told me so. I’d killed my mama too. Maddie said I didn’t, but now she was sick. Ash was going bad. The devil was dragging him down to hell with me. We had the same blood. The same flames in our souls…

I kept focusing on Maddie’s singing voice in my head. She’d be with me soon. She’d make everything better. She always made it better.

And she’d chase away the devil and his flames.

Chapter Two

Maddie

“Azrael, you are beyond perfect.” I gently leaned over the bed to place him back in Lilah’s arms. My sister was smiling as I handed him over. I saw her flinch, but even the pain from her caesarean could not steal her joyful shine. I stared at my sister in awe. Lilah was always beautiful, but I did not think I had ever seen her look as perfect as she did now.

I took a seat beside Mae, who was holding Talitha. I ran my finger down Talitha’s rosy cheek. A fissure of nerves travelled down my spine as she moved under my touch. Nerves mixed with an excitement I could barely contain. As I sat back in my seat, Bella slipped her hand into mine. “Have you told him yet, sister?”

The excitement I felt morphed into stark fear. The smile I was wearing from staring at two such beautiful babies vanished. I bit my lip in instant trepidation. “No. I have yet to summon the courage.”

Bella’s hand squeezed mine in reassurance. “He will be able tell soon enough.” Naturally, my free hand fell over my stomach. The flowing material of my purple dress quickly molded around the slight bump that had started to form. My little precious bump. Flame had yet to realize it was there. But he knew I had been sick in some way. I had told him it was simply a stomach virus. I saw what it was doing to him. I saw the worry on his face and the haunted look in his eyes. I had not been honest with him. But I feared I could not without causing him pain. I never wanted to cause him pain, he had suffered too much in his life.

“I dare not tell him,” I whispered. The room fell silent. When I looked up, all of my sisters were watching me—Bella, Sia, Phebe, Lilah, and Mae—sorrow and empathy etched on their faces. I withdrew my hand from Bella’s and ran it over my stomach, cradling our baby who was growing inside. “He has many demons, as you know. But…” I quieted. I would not divulge my husband’s horrific experiences as a child. That was between him and me. I would never break that sacred trust.

“He fears being a father. I know this. For reasons I will not share, having a baby… it will be a major trigger for him, possibly the biggest he could face. One I am not sure he can cope with at any time, but especially of late.” I thought of his fingers tracing his scars, his nails digging into his wrist as we sat by the fire. I was not even sure if he knew he was doing it, but I had noticed. I was neither naïve nor stupid. I may not have had an education or an upbringing that challenged women to think beyond our strict faith. But I knew the demons both Flame and I lived with had merely been abated by our union, not exorcized. Love was a powerful remedy, but it was not a cure for some scars. They ran too deep. They were incurable. We had simply learned to live with our demons harnessed, sharing when the burden of dire thoughts became too great. I did not think Flame had understood why he was beginning to show old behaviors.

I believed it was because of Ash. I knew Flame was worried about his brother—as I was—but he did not know how to express it or even acknowledge it. When on top of Ash’s erratic behavior—his silence, or worse still, his cruel words—he had caught me being sick for a while now, I’d seen the haunted look he’d once permanently worn flash in his black gaze. As days had turned into weeks the haunted look was present more than not. And I knew telling him of our baby would not make things better. I knew in my heart and soul that it would make him spiral into a panic; one I was not sure I could save him from. It was the deepest and most jagged scar he bore on his battered heart. I was terrified what would happen when it was torn asunder.



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