“Yup.”
I take the spare seat by Eric, joining him in staring at Scarlett.
“What’s her prognosis?”
“No way to know until she wakes up.” He swallows hard. “Ifshe wakes up.”
“And if she does?” I ask quietly.
He shrugs, but I see the turmoil swimming in his eyes. “She might not have any memories left. Doc thinks it’s likely that her short-term memories of the last year or two will be most heavily impacted,ifshe does have any memories. Aside from that… her motor skills might be gone. She could be paralyzed. It’s…fuck.” He shakes his head, jaw clenching. “I failed her.”
“We both did.” If she dies, this is on both of us. Neither of us got to her soon enough.
“You didn’t. Luther would’ve killed her. You enabled her to kill him.” He looks away sharply. “She put four bullets in him. I promised I’d put three in him. One for her, one for me, and one for our mother. She added an extra for you.”
My eyes squeeze shut. My brave, strong girl fought back andwon. She’s the reason Cain had a fortress to return for, the reason I’m alive. She’s…everything.
And I might never see her evergreen eyes again.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Greyson
Aweek passes. Scarlett’s vitals improve, as do mine. Max does physical therapy with me every day, and I’m off my cane in 48 hours. By the end of the week, my stitches are out, but I’m still advised to take it easy.
Any moment I’m not at PT or taking a quick shower, I’m by Scarlett’s bedside. Lucifer, the furry little fuck, managed to survive the carnage by hiding in my bedroom.
When I let him out, he tears apart everything he can sink his claws into and yowls at me day and night to get back to Scarlett.
After he shreds my mattress to pieces, I bring him by the scruff to Scarlett—with Ross’s approval, of course.
Ross says the demon won’t harm Scarlett, and as soon as the creature sees its mother, he climbs onto her and rests his head on her chest.
The cat doesn’t move from that position for several days—won’t eat unless I put his food bowl on the mattress next to Scarlett—and for the first time, I gain some gratitude for the thing. With him and Eric watching over her, I’m able to leave her for brief windows of time.
At the end of the week, Scarlett’s vitals and wounds improve enough that she’s taken off the breathing tube. But shestilldoesn’twake up, and every moment without her is a moment I come closer to taking my own life. If she dies, so do I.
It’s late one night—close to 2am—that I’m dozing off in the chair beside her. Eric’s off sleeping in a guest room for the night, leaving me and Lucifer watching over her.
Lucifer abruptly lifts his head from her chest, and releases a loud yowl, snapping me to alertness. For the first time since he got here, the furry fuck stands up. He moves restlessly over Scarlett’s body, meowing loudly, rubbing his cheek against her neck and licking her chin.
“Ease up,” I warn him. “If you put a scratch on her, I’ll euthanize you.”
My warning goes completely ignored. Lucifer continues grooming Scarlett, rubbing against her, meowing… and a few minutes later, a miracle happens.
Scarlett’s eyes begin to flutter. Her legs twitch a little, followed by her fingers. My heart stops. My brain short-circuits. I hold my breath as I watch her, as if the slightest disturbance in the room—even my breathing—might harm her.
Then, sheopens her eyes.
I’m at her bedside in a heartbeat, taking her small, warm hand in my own.
Her eyes look a bit dazed and unfocused, and as they fix on me, swimming with confusion and unspoken questions, my heart sinks for the thousandth time this week.
She doesn’t remember me. There’s no recognition in her green gaze.
Fucking. Damnit. This is just my goddamn luck. Any moment and she’ll start screaming for help.
Waking up to a stranger leaning over you after a brain surgery and subsequent coma can’t be comforting. I should do the right thing and leave. Send the doctor and her brother in here and give her space.
