"This needs to come out," he says quietly. "It's going to hurt."
"Do it."
The extraction is agony, the kind that makes my vision white out at the edges. But I don't make a sound. Just grip the arm of the chair hard enough that the wood creaks and keep my eyes on Roxanne's face.
The leg wound missed the major nerve, thank fuck. The doctor tells me this as he irrigates and stitches. But putting weight on it will be agony for weeks. Two bruised ribs from where that soldier hit me, nothing critical. Bruised knuckles from when I broke free of the restraints.
But what doesn't show on any examination is my heart hemorrhaging every time I look at her like this. Broken. Beaten down. The strongest woman I know reduced to this because of my mother, my past, my fucking DNA.
The doctor finishes, gives me instructions I barely hear, leaves bottles of antibiotics and pain medication on the nightstand. Then he's gone, and it's just me and Roxanne and the steady beep of her heart monitor.
Less than ten minutes after the doctor leaves, Luna appears in the doorway. Her eyes are red rimmed, mascara smudged. She must have been crying in the car.
"How is she?" Her voice cracks on the question.
"Lost a lot of blood. But she'll make it." I don't look away from Roxanne, can't look away. I'm counting her breaths, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest like it's the only thing tethering me to sanity.
Luna crosses the room slowly, like she's approaching something fragile. She squeezes my shoulder, her grip tight and grounding. "For years, I watched her sabotage every relationship. Sometimes before they even started, hooking up with guys who were clearly wrong for her, who would never see past the surface. I never understood why she couldn't see her own worth."
Her voice drops, becomes softer, sadder.
"Whenever I tried to talk about it, tried to dig deeper, she'd crack a joke or pretend it didn't bother her. Deflect with humor or sarcasm or by changing the subject entirely. But I saw it, Damien. Those walls slamming up, brick by brick. And I knew I'd lost, knew I couldn't reach her no matter how hard I tried."
She pauses, and I feel her hand tighten on my shoulder.
"Then you showed up. And for the first time since I've known her, someone fought to break through. Someone saw past all that armor to the woman underneath and refused to let her hide."
"I lied to her." The words taste like ash.
"Planning to do it again?"
"No."
I finally look up at Luna, and see the tears streaming down her face.
"So you'd better fix this," she says fiercely. "Whatever secret you kept, whatever she's angry about, you fix it. Because she deserves someone who fights for her. And you're the only one who's ever done it right."
Marco and Elena's story wasn't mine to tell. I know that. But guilt still eats at me when I remember how she looked at me, like I'd shattered something we'd carefully built these past weeks.
I force myself to stand, leg screaming in protest. "I need to handle Marzena. Can you stay?"
"Of course." She settles into the armchair I just vacated.
At the door, I turn back. "Any advice? On getting her to forgive me?"
Luna studies me for a beat then smirks. "Hide the knives for a few days."
A laugh breaks free despite everything.
I'd let her carve me up a thousand times if it meant never seeing that look of betrayal again. If she demanded I bleed out for her forgiveness, I'd do it without hesitation.
For you, slonko, I'd bleed myself dry.
Chapter 51
Damien
I had to drag myself to this hangar, but I knew I didn't want to miss a single second of her end.
