Of course, that was easier said than done. Every movement, no matter how small, sent agony through my middle.
Fresh lightning flashed, illuminating the silvery rain streaming down the window. The storm outside was building to a fever pitch, matching my mounting panic. Even if I could physically do so, I knew it was peak idiocy to leave the protected room and venture out into a deluge. But I at least needed toknow where the hell I was. I needed to know if I’d dreamed Seattle and Nevada and…them. I frantically searched the room for something, anything, to tell me where—and when—I was.
Then I saw him.
Xander.
He was slumped in a chair beside my bed, his upper body folded over awkwardly, head resting on one arm while the other stretched protectively across my legs. His presence hit me like a wave of relief, washing away the terror that had gripped me. This wasn't Brightfield. This wasn't my past. He was real. And if he was real, then Kane was real and Fallon and Asher and Nitro existed too.
Nitro…Oh, God. Did he make it out?Was he somewhere in this hospital hurt? I didn’t remember much after crawling into the giant tent. I’d barely crawled a few yards when the catastrophic final collapse did its damage—causing shocking pain to my middle quickly followed by the world going black. But Nitro had to be alive. Would Xander be here with me if his brother was badly hurt or, worse, dead?
I let my breathing slow as I studied him in the dim light. Sleeping there, his usual intensity drained from his features, Xander looked younger. He seemed… almost boyish and vulnerable. His pitch-black hair fell across his forehead. The perpetual furrow between his brows had smoothed out, and his lips were slightly parted in sleep. The only thing detracting from the illusion of youth was the five o’clock shadow skimming his lower face.
I'd never had the luxury of watching him like this before—unguarded, unaware of my gaze. But here, draped half across my hospital bed, he looked almost peaceful. I could stare at him for hours and not get bored.
His arm was heavy across my legs, not restrictive but reassuring. I wasn’t sure if that was his intention, to becomean anchor tethering me to reality, but that’s what the weight of his touch felt like. Something warm unfurled in my chest, wondering if Xander was trying to protect me. Guard me, keep me safe, not chase me away.
Another flash of lightning cast his face in brightness, highlighting the strong line of his jaw, the fan of his dark lashes against his cheeks, and the slightest dimple in his chin I’d never noticed before. A strange ache grew inside me, different from the ever-present physical pain. Xander was beautiful in a way that made my throat tight. God, how I wanted him to want me. If only he would wake up and we could start over. He’d accept me, broken body and all, and I’d become a real part of DemonX.
How long had he been here, keeping watch over me? The chair looked painfully uncomfortable, and his position couldn't be doing his neck any favors. Yet here he was, refusing to leave my side.
“When you wake up, will things go back to how they were?” I murmured, my words getting swallowed up by thunderous booms outside.
I glanced around the room, though my eyes were reluctant to leave Xander’s face.
This was a private, but normal room. That gave me comfort. No isolation protocols. No staff in hazmat suits. I’d been awake for a good fifteen minutes, and no nurses had come in to check. So, I couldn’t be in critical condition.
The dull throb in my abdomen sharpened suddenly, pulling me from my thoughts. I winced, trying to shift into a more comfortable position without disturbing Xander, but the movement only intensified the pain. I didn’t clamp my mouth closed fast enough to dam a series of whimpers. Freezing I watched for any sign the noises had disturbed the man sleeping against me. He didn’t stir. I supposed if he could sleepthrough the violent storm, my small squeaks of suffering hardly registered.
My eyes tracked upward, following the clear tubing that ran from my arm to an IV stand. Among the bags hanging there was one I recognized immediately—morphine. The sight of it was both comforting and unsettling. I was no stranger to pain management; my disease had ensured that. But this time the medication wasn't treating a chronic, incurable condition. This time it was temporary.Please, let it be temporary.I thought fiercely.
Lowering my gaze, I found the small pain pump button attached to a cord. My old friend.
I reached for it, my movements sluggish. The familiarity of the action sent me back to countless nights in hospitals and Brightfield, alone with nothing but books and medication to distract me from my failing body. But this time, when my thumb pressed down on the button, I did it knowing there was an after—a future outside this hospital, one I was desperate to claim. And, this time, I also wasn’t alone. Xander was here.
The effect wasn't immediate, but I felt the moment the morphine entered my system. The sharp edges of the pain began to blur, my muscles relaxing as the drug spread through me. Waves of strange numbing, followed by a sensation of floating. My eyelids grew heavy, and the storm outside sounded further away by the second as I slipped into a medicinal haze.
I looked at Xander as the medication continued to pull me under. His presence was more comforting than any drug. In all my years of illness, I'd never had someone stay by my side who didn’t have to. The doctors and nurses were all obligated to watch over me, but Xander was different. My heart was swelling so big, I was sure it would burst eventually.
He was here. Xander was next to me.
My last conscious thought before the morphine pulled me under completely was that maybe this—having someone who refused to leave, even when you were at your most vulnerable, even when it was easier to leave—was what it meant to belong to someone. To have a pack.
I liked that thought very much. It followed me down into the darkness.
XANDER.
I was dreaming about Lucy.
About her sitting in front of me on my motorcycle, petite body pressed against mine.
About her shining, platinum hair catching sunlight as she held her arms up high above her head, laughing as the wind whipped against her cheeks.
Lucy was mine. She was ours. The Omega who, despite all odds, belonged to DemonX.
I felt the subtle shift beneath my arm before I was fully awake. Lucy's legs were moving restlessly under the thin hospital blanket. My body tensed, instantly alert despite the stiffness in my neck from falling asleep in the world's most uncomfortable chair. I kept my eyes closed for another moment, orienting myself.
Monitors still beeped.
