“I love you,” I whisper urgently as the doors begin to swing shut between us. I’m not sure he heard me—the words were so quiet—but just before the doors close completely, his lips move in response, forming words I can’t catch, yet somehow still feel.
I’m wheeled deeper into the sterile room, and as I’m transferred from the gurney to the surgical table, someone yells for anesthesia. As the drug kicks in, my system shuts down and the world goes black again.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
The steady, rhythmic beeping of a monitor somewhere to my left is the first thing I become aware of. The low mechanical sound wraps itself around the fog still clouding my head and gradually drags me back to consciousness.
My body feels impossibly heavy on the soft bed, like I’ve been hit by a truck and dragged for miles. Every single inch of me aches—my chest, my arm, my throat, even my face. I groan as I try to open my eyes.
The curtains are drawn across the window, hiding whether it’s day or night—hours or days later—but the overhead lights are painfully bright. White walls reflect the glare, making mesquint and turn my head slightly, my eyes burning under the assault.
I try to move and feel a tug in my arm. An IV. My gaze follows the line—and my heart squeezes.
Roan.
He’s slumped in a chair next to the bed, his head resting near my hand, fast asleep. His clothes are still stained with blood, his hair a messy tangle, like he’s been running his hands through it for hours. I lift my other arm to reach for him, to confirm he’s real, but the movement sends a sharp jolt through my side and a groan slips out.
“You’re awake!” Kayla exclaims from my other side, and I slowly turn my head. She’s sitting in another chair, her eyes wide and shining with relief. My heart softens impossibly more. My sister. Finally safe.
“Shh,” I murmur, my voice hoarse. “You’re going to wake him.”
But it’s too late.
Roan stirs beside me, his head snapping up from the bed instantly, eyes alert like he’s been half-awake the whole time, waiting for this moment. His sharp gaze scans my face, then my body, like he has to physically verify I’m really awake and alive.
“How do you feel?” he asks, his voice thick with emotion.
I offer him a small smile despite the pain. “Like I’ve been run over by a truck.”
He exhales shakily—like he’s been holding that breath for hours—and gets to his feet, his hand gentle as it brushes through my hair. “I’m glad you’re awake.”
“Me too,” I murmur, my gaze searching his, remembering his devastated expression just before I was wheeled into surgery. “You don’t look too good.”
He runs a hand through his messy hair, nodding distractedly. “Hold on, let me get your doctor.” Then he’s walking out the door in quick, purposeful strides before I can protest.
“Wow, that guy is really something else.” Kayla’s mild comment makes me turn my head towards her. She’s still watching the door with something like amazement written across her face.
I smile faintly. “You okay?”
“Thanks to you.” She leans closer and holds my hand gently. “You should be more worried about him. In the last twenty-four hours, he’s threatened to kill your doctor at least six times. I know because I counted.”
I laugh, but it cuts off as pain flares through my side, forcing a wince. “I think I remember one of those,” I manage to grit out.
Kayla’s lips curve into a small smile. “I’m glad you have people who love you this much around you. I'm a little envious, honestly. But I’m still glad.”
I swallow hard against the sudden lump in my throat and turn my hand over in hers, lacing our fingers together to squeeze her hand. “I hope you know how much I love you, Kayla. I’d do absolutely anything for you. Always have.”
“I know,” she murmurs, squeezing back. “I know.”
The door opens again, and Roan comes back in, followed by a doctor who looks like he’s just swallowed something sour. The man keeps flicking glances at Roan as he approaches my bed, like he expects a gun to materialize at any second. But when our gazes meet, his face lights up.
“I’m so glad to see you awake, Mrs. Përmeti,” the doctor says with real feeling. “My family and I get to keep our lives now.”
A soft chuckle escapes me, though it catches a little at being referred to asMrs. Përmeti. “So sorry about that, doc,” I murmur, glancing over at Roan—who looks completely unrepentant about his threats.
