Her eye—the one that could open—fluttered. Once, twice, then struggled fully open. Green met my gaze, unfocused at first, then sharpening with recognition that made my chest tighten.
“Theo,” she whispered, and her voice was wrecked, raw from screaming, choking, and surviving.
Relief hit me like a tidal wave, overwhelming every other emotion until all I could feel was the crushing need to touch her, to confirm she was real and awake and here. I leaned down and pressed my lips to her forehead, then her unbruised cheek, then her temple, anywhere I could reach that wouldn't hurt her worse.
“You're awake,” I said between kisses, my words muffled against her skin. “Christ, Jasmine, you're awake.”
I kissed her again, her jaw, then her chin, unable to stop myself. My hands found her face, cupping it gently despite the desperate need to pull her close. She made a small sound, and I felt her lips curve into a smile beneath mine when I kissed her mouth softly.
“Theo,” she said again, and this time there was laughter in her voice, breathy and weak but unmistakably amused. “Back off; it hurts.”
I pulled back immediately, my hands hovering near her face like I didn't know what to do with them now that I couldn't touch her. “Fuck, I'm sorry, honey. I just—” The words tangled in my throat, too many emotions trying to force their way out at once. “I'm so happy you survived.”
A laugh bubbled out of me, unexpected and slightly unhinged. I probably looked insane, grinning like a madman while she lay there covered in injuries, but I couldn't help it. She was alive. Awake. Making jokes about me being too enthusiastic. Everything else could wait.
“It was touch and go there for a while,” Lucian said from his position near the window, his voice carrying more weight than the casual words suggested. He moved closer to the bed, his face drawn with the same exhaustion I recognized in myself. “The knife did some damage. You lost a lot of blood.”
The gravity of his statement settled over the room like a blanket, reminding us all how close we'd come to losing her completely. I'd seen the amount of blood in that alley, had felt it soaking into my clothes when I'd helped carry her into the hospital. Too much blood. Far too much for someone as small as her to lose and survive.
Kade shifted, moving from his chair to sit carefully on the edge of her bed. His weight made the mattress dip slightly, and I saw Jasmine's gaze track to him. His oak scent intensified, wrapping around us all, and when he looked at her, his expression held worry so deep it carved lines around his eyes.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, his hand finding hers on top of the blanket.
“Like I got beaten up and stabbed,” she said, and there was an attempt at humor in her weak voice that made my chest ache.But then I saw it—the way her eyes darted toward the door when footsteps passed in the hallway. The way her fingers tightened on the blanket despite Kade holding her hand. The fear that lingered even here, even surrounded by us.
Kade saw it too. His jaw tightened, and he leaned closer, making sure she was looking at him when he spoke.
“They're all dead, Jasmine,” he said, his voice carrying absolute certainty. “Every single one of them. Bane, his pack members, all of them. They can no longer hurt you.”
I watched her process the words, saw the moment they truly registered. Her eye—the one that could open fully—went wide, and her lips parted. For a heartbeat, she just stared at Kade, then at me, then at Lucian, like she needed confirmation from all of us that what he'd said was real.
“Dead?” she whispered.
“All of them,” I confirmed, my voice harder than I'd intended. “We made sure of it, honey. They'll never touch you again. Never even get close.”
The tears came then, silent and overwhelming, streaming down her bruised face in tracks that made my throat go tight. But these weren't tears of fear or pain. I recognized relief when I saw it, the kind that came from a burden being lifted that was too heavy to carry alone.
Her shoulders shook with sobs that had to hurt her injuries, but she didn't seem to care. The trembling in her hands intensified, and I couldn't stand it anymore. I sat on the other side of the bed, opposite Kade, and carefully pulled her against my chest, mindful of the IV and the bandages and all the ways she was still broken.
“You're safe now,” I murmured into her hair, feeling her tears soak into my shirt. “We've got you. Nothing's going to hurt you ever again.”
Lucian moved closer, his hand finding her shoulder, completing the circle of protection around her. Kade's hand never left hers, his thumb stroking across her knuckles in a rhythm meant to soothe.
Eventually, she drifted back to sleep as exhaustion wreaked havoc on her body. I lay her back down on the bed gently, trying not to disturb her. Instead, I laid down next to her, and she snuggled up next to me.
“I’m going to grab a coffee,” Lucian said. “Want one?” I nodded.
“I’ll come with you,” Kade stated. “I could do with some air.” He was still angry she’d been hurt on our watch. I couldn’t blame him. Heck, I was fuming at how royally we’d screwed up. But there was nothing any of us could do about that now, except praise the ground she walked on for all eternity.
I listened to the sound of her breathing again, soothed her hair, and kissed the top of her head. She was sound asleep. I was grateful for that at least. The more she rested, the quicker she’d heal.
Looking around, I noticed the sterile scent of antiseptic as it burned in my nostrils. Jasmine was covered in it, but still, under all that cold, sharp smell, her sweet apple pie scent fought to break through. I smiled, kissing her head again.
I'd positioned myself between her bed and the door. From here, I could see anyone approaching before they got close, could intercept threats before they reached her. My shoulders were tense enough to ache, every muscle coiled and ready despite the exhaustion pulling at my bones.
My chest swelled with something too big to name when I looked at her. Pride, maybe, at her survival. Relief that she was still breathing. Gratitude to whatever forces had kept her alive through blood loss that should have killed her. But beneath it alllived guilt so heavy it made my jaw clench until my teeth ground together.
I cataloged her injuries again, unable to stop myself. The bandaged wound on her abdomen drew my attention first: white gauze covering where a knife had buried itself deep enough to tear things that shouldn't be torn. The doctors had said she was lucky. Lucky that the blade had missed major arteries. Lucky they'd gotten her into surgery fast enough. Lucky she was young and strong and stubborn enough to survive.
