Twenty-three years isolated in Brightfield House for a disease that nearly killed me, parents that abandoned me, Alphas that loathed me at first sight, followed by a circus tent literally collapsing on me the moment I tried to experience an exciting life. If this was luck, I'd hate to see what misfortune looked like.
"Doing okay?” the nurse asked, her voice gentle but clinical.
I nodded, focusing on a juncture up ahead where four corridors came together. My legs trembled as I took two more steps. The thin hospital gown fluttered against my legs, and I tugged at it self-consciously with the arm the nurse wasn’t touching. Another step. Another. Two more steps that made me grit my teeth against the exhaustion flooding through my limbs. I kept count, pushing myself past breaking.
"You're doing great," the nurse encouraged, matching my pace with practiced ease.
The distance to the intersection of halls felt like it stretched into forever. Each step was a victory, a tiny rebellion against the weakness of my body. But my will to walk was fading at lightning speed. I tried to focus on my breathing instead of the mile-long journey.
Fifty steps now. My legs burned, but I refused to give up. More than one doctor, including my surgeon, had warned me not to overdo it, but what did they know of lost time? Of years spent watching the world from behind barriers. Of living just to die and dying as soon as you start living? They couldn’t understand, not really.
A few feet from my goal—the convergence of halls—my vision swam, the sterile whites and blues of the hospital blurring at the edges. I froze in place as the floor seemed to tilt beneath my feet. My heartbeat thundered in my ears, drowning out whatever the nurse was trying to say.
"I think I need to stop for now," I murmured, the words slurring slightly as I tried to focus on remaining upright.
The nurse’s touch grew firmer.
But it wasn’t her hand on my arm that slowed the spinning of the space around me.
A hand curved around my waist. The length of another body pressed against my own. And a voice, rich with warmth, ribboned into my ears.
"Come on, Luce, you can go a little further."
Luce. Not Lucy. I Liked that.
The voice cut through my dizziness. There was no mistaking the heat in his tone, or the way his words rounded at the edges. Asher.
Slowly, I turned my head. The world tried to pitch and roll worse than ever, but the second I saw him, everything steadied.
Asher’s blue gaze was fixed on me with such intensity that my breath hitched. His dark hair was tousled, the skin beneath hiseyes mottled, and the shadow of stubble darkened his jaw. He didn’t look like he’d gotten much sleep lately.
A smile tugged at my lips without my permission, joy at seeing him flooding through me. If someone had said I’d be happy to see Asher a few weeks ago, I’d have laughed in their face.
"There it is," Asher said, his voice dropping to a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through me. "That damn smile is brighter than fire."
Heat rushed to my face, flooding my cheeks. The compliment was unexpectedly gentle. I wasn’t sure I could trust honeyed words from an Alpha more used to spitting thorns. But I wanted to believe him. He was looking at me like I was the most important thing in the world. Xander had done the same—that morning after I’d seen him sleeping against me, he’d looked like a man in love.
"I thought..." I began, then swallowed hard, trying to gather my scattered thoughts. “I thought you guys would be busy every day with rehearsals."
“We are.” His eyes never left my face. “But seeing you at night isn’t enough. We’re taking day shifts now. Already arranged it with the Cirque.”
“At night?” I tried to think, forehead scrunching. I didn’t remember anyone visiting this past week, not since Xander.
The nurse leaned closer, speaking softly, mouth hovered near my ear. “The night nurses told me one of them have been coming every night and staying until morning. Technically, we’re not supposed to sign people in after eleven, but it’s hard to say no to your Alphas.”
I blinked slowly over at her, registering her words. “I’ve been sleeping through that?” I said dumbly.
“Sleeping like a baby,” she teased, eyes sparkling.
Something shifted in my chest at her words—a subtle rearrangement of what I thought I knew about Asher. About DemonX. About what it meant to have people in my life who showed up when it mattered.
“Come on, Luce,” Asher said gently, “A few more steps. I know you can do it.”
With his support, my dizziness receded enough for me to move again. The nurse, still on my other side, exchanged a look with Asher that I couldn't decipher, but she eventually stepped away and let Asher take over fully.
Why did having Asher here make me feel stronger?
Why did the distance to the hallway crossroad feel shorter?
