“Mr. Krogen!” My voice cracked. I scrambled up, heart pounding so hard it hurt. “Oh my God— your hand—”
He didn’t flinch, just flexed his fingers once, inspecting the cut with quiet detachment. “It’s nothing.”
“Nothing?” My chest constricted. “You-. You pushed me out of the way! You—” My throat closed. The words came out in gasps, uneven, frantic. I could feel the panic rising. That old, suffocating dread, the kind that never really left.
Keith reached out with his uninjured hand, steady and grounding. “Aurelia,” he said softly. “Breathe.”
I did. Barely. His calm cut through the noise, through the fear clawing at my ribs.
He turned to Victor, voice level again. “Get the medic ready.”
Victor was already on his phone, issuing orders as workers scrambled.
Within minutes, we were in a small utility cart, the island’s medic center a short drive away. I sat beside Keith, watching the faint streak of blood down his wrist, every jolt of the cart making my heart twist tighter. He didn’t complain once. He just stared ahead, his expression unreadable.
At the clinic, the doctor ushered him inside. The scent of antiseptic hit me, sharp and clean. Keith sat on the exam table, his shirt sleeve rolled up, the injury revealed a deep scrape across his palm, angry red but mercifully shallow.
Still, seeing it made my stomach turn.
When the doctor began cleaning the wound, I had to grip the edge of the counter to steady myself. My throat burned. “This is my fault,” I said, voice trembling. “If I hadn’t been standing there—”
Keith glanced up, his tone quiet but firm. “Stop.”
Tears stung my eyes. “You could’ve been seriously hurt. Because of me.”
He shook his head once, eyes steady on mine. “I made a choice. I’d make it again.”
Something in his voice, simple, sure, without hesitation undid me. The tears came before I could stop them.
He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from my face with his uninjured hand. The touch was light but it felt like gravity. “Aurelia,” he said softly. “I’m fine. You should get some rest. It must’ve been a shock.”
“I can stay,” I whispered.
“You shouldn’t,” he said gently. “Go rest. That’s an order.”
Despite the faint smile on his lips, his tone left no room for argument.
I hesitated, the air between us thick with everything I couldn’t say. Then I nodded. “Okay.”
As I stepped outside, the door closing softly behind me, I pressed a hand to my chest, trying to calm the ache there. The sound of the beam hitting the ground still echoed in my ears — but louder still was his voice, low and steady, saying my name like it meant something.
Chapter 6
Aurelia
The clock on my nightstand glowed 1:17 a.m., its red digits mocking the darkness that pressed against the bungalow's windows. Now, alone in the humid hush of my room, guilt coiled in my chest like smoke.Because of me.Not directly, not really. Theo once said that Keith's father was beyond loaded. Keith has grown up with silver spoons and private jets. Never knew a scraped knee, let alone real hurt. He’s been wrapped in luxury his whole life.
And today, he'd gotten hurt. For the project. Because of me, in some twisted way. What if it scarred? What if it slowed him down? Men like him weren't built for breaks. They shattered quietly. And I couldn't shake the image of those storm-gray eyes flickering with something raw, unguarded, before the mask snapped back.
I rolled onto another side of my bed, the sheets twisting around my legs like those phantom hands from my nightmares. Always pulling, always claiming. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing sleep to come, but my pulse thrummed too loud, echoing the dread that had shadowed me since the scaffold's crash.Is he alright? Does it hurt? God, what if he's bleeding alone right now, too proud to—
Knock.
The sound jolted me upright, a sharptap-tapagainst the glass like knuckles on bone. My heart slammed into my throat, breath snagging as I froze, sheets pooled at my waist. The room's lone lamp cast long shadows across the walls, turning the furniture into hulking sentinels.What was that?Wind? A branch? Or? No! Don't think it!
Knock-knock.
It came again, deliberate, from the balcony door. Fear bloomed cold in my veins, but curiosity clawed at it, sharper than the terror. I couldn't just cower here, imagining horrors in the dark. Swallowing hard, I slid from the bed, bare feet silent on the cool tile. My nightgown clung lightly to my skin, the matching cloak draped over my shoulders like a fragile shield. I padded toward the doors, pulse roaring in my ears, one hand hovering near the lamp switch as if light could banish whatever waited outside.
