I poked the bear. I wanted him unstable, reckless. I got what I wanted.
Her brother paid the price.
Harold and James push through the waiting room doors, both of them looking like they ran here. Sierra’s dad spots us first, his face gray and drawn in a way that makes him look a decade older than he did at dinner.
“Any news?” he asks.
Sierra’s mom stands to meet them. “He’s out of surgery. They’re moving him to recovery.”
James pulls his brother into a hug. Harold’s shoulders shake once before he gets himself under control.
This family loves hard. It’s written in everything they do. No wonder Sierra opened her heart so easily. No wonder she walks home late at night believing most people are good.
I don’t want her to lose that.
My free hand curls into a fist on my thigh. Viktor needs to be gone. Not just for the mafia. Not just for my own vendetta. For her. For them.
I meant what I told her. I’m going to make it happen.
A nurse appears in the doorway. Young, tired, clipboard clutched tightly. “Family of Julian Dixon?”
Everyone turns.
“He’s been moved to the ICU. He’s stable but still unconscious. You can visit two at a time.”
Harper is already moving, Sierra’s mom right behind her. They disappear through the double doors, and the rest of us settle back into the hard plastic chairs to wait.
Sierra’s leg bounces. Her hand finds mine again, squeezing tight.
It feels like hours before Harper and Alicia come back, though it’s probably only fifteen minutes. Harper’s face is blotchy, mascara smeared. She doesn’t say anything, just sinks into a chair and stares at the floor.
Sierra stands. Looks at her dad, then her uncle. “Do you mind if I...?”
“Go ahead, sweetheart,” Harold says. His voice is rough. “We’ll go after.”
Sierra turns to me. “Come with me?”
I can’t say no to her.
Julian’s room is dim. Quiet except for the beep of machines and the hiss of the ventilator. Tubes snake everywhere. His face is swollen, bruised. He doesn’t look like the guy who joked with me over dinner last week.
Sierra’s grip on my hand tightens until it hurts.
I don’t pull away.
“We’ve always been close,” she says softly. “Even though he’s five years older. You’d think he wouldn’t want his little sister around when he was a teenager, but it was never like that with us.”
We move closer to the bed. Her voice steadies as she talks, like the words are anchoring her.
“I looked up to him. I wanted to be just like him. That’s part of why I started studying business, you know? My parents encouraged it, and Julian did it, so it must be right.”
A small, sad laugh escapes her. “It wasn’t right. But you know who supported me completely when I dropped out?”
“Julian.”
“Yeah.” She swipes at a tear before it can fall. “He told me to follow my own path. Said not to worry about Mom and Dad being disappointed because he’d always be proud of me.”
I swallow hard. “He’s going to wake up, Sunshine.”
