When the doctor left, giving instructions for rest and hydration, Gray finally reached for her hand again.
He didn’t tug her closer.He simply held her hand.“Thank you,” he said softly.
She sat beside him on the bed, leaning her shoulder against his, letting their fingers interlace.“You don’t have to thank me.We’re bonded.This is what we do.”
He turned his head, pressing his lips to her temple in a kiss so gentle it made her breath catch.
“Bonded,” he repeated quietly, the word full of wonder.
His love was unmistakable through their connection.It wrapped around her like lightning that didn’t burn.
The room quieted after the doctor and Yaz left, the door sliding shut with a soft hiss that seemed to seal them into a pocket of calm.Hannah exhaled slowly, letting the tension bleed from her shoulders as she watched Gray slide back against the pillows.He looked exhausted, but still beautiful to her, all sharp jawline and storm-shadowed eyes and that restless strength that never quite left his body.
She brushed a hand through her hair, then reached for the pitcher of water the doctor had left.“You need to drink,” she said softly, handing him the glass.
He took it without protest, fingers grazing hers.Even that small contact sent a ribbon of heat winding through their bond.When he finished, he set the glass aside and leaned his head back with a quiet groan.
“Come here,” he murmured.
She didn’t hesitate.She slipped onto the narrow bed beside him, her shoulder tucked under his arm, her head resting against the warm plane of his chest.His heartbeat thudded steady beneath her cheek, slower now.
Screens mounted across the room flickered with news coverage.There was footage of the Senate steps, interviews outside the building, pundits arguing, citizens cheering, others crying.The world was trying to understand what had happened, trying to rewrite its fear into hope.
But Hannah barely heard any of it.She was too focused on the way Gray’s arm tightened around her, pulling her just a little closer, his thumb brushing slow circles against her upper arm.
The softness of it unraveled her.
He wasn’t a man who touched carelessly.Every stroke meant something.Every gesture was intentional.
“You should rest,” she murmured.“You burned through almost everything.”
His lips brushed the top of her head, so feather-light she might have imagined it if not for the warm rush that echoed through their bond.“I will,” he said.“But I want to be awake with you a little longer.”
Her throat tightened.She lifted her head slightly to look at him.The dim lights cast shadows across his face but his eyes were clear, focused only on her.His hand rose to cup her cheek, his thumb sweeping beneath her eye.The tender gesture stole her breath.
“You were scared for me,” he said softly.“Not for yourself.For me.”
Her voice came out barely above a whisper.“Of course I was.”
Their bond was a steady, glowing thread connecting their breaths and heartbeats.
“You don’t understand.”He stopped, jaw tightening like the words hurt.“No one has ever cared for me like that.No one’s ever fought for me like that.”
Her eyes burned.“Gray...”
His thumb brushed her lower lip, a silky stroke that made her breath tremble.
“You were in my head,” he said.“In my chest.You held me together.You kept me from losing myself.You made me want to fight smarter, not just harder.”His voice roughened.“You made me feel like I wasn’t alone.Like I didn’t have to be afraid of myself.”
Tears blurred her vision.“You’re not alone.”
His hand slipped to cradle the back of her head, guiding her forehead to his.Their breaths mingled, warm and uneven.
“I love you, Hannah,” he said.
The words weren’t rushed.They weren’t hesitant.They were a quiet, powerful truth, shaped with reverence and absolute certainty.
Her breath caught between a laugh and a sob.She cupped his face in both hands.
