“We don’t talk about Sri Lanka,” Sofia smirks, “and you love Rafe for it.”
“What’s love?” The psychopath shrugs. “I don’t want to kill him. I suppose that’s a win.”
Lana settles on my bed, her fingers lacing mine.
I shift closer, ignoring the pain spearing between my ribs. I need her to feel her warmth, her vitality—proof she’s real, alive, and finally…mine.
“See what I had to deal with when you were out? Now that you’re awake, they’re yours. I need a nice long bath and a good book. Maybe one of Scarlett’s magical drinks with chocolate.”
I move to the side and pull her down next to me, savoring the perfect way she fits in my arms.
Myzemër.
“I love you,” I murmur, eyes feeling heavy.
The antiseptic air burns. The hum of the overhead lights reminds me of the sprinklers and smoke when I was bleeding out.
I thought I’d die. I thought Kian would never get to love his Elise again.
“I love you,” I repeat, clutching her tighter, afraid I’ll lose this feeling.
“We’ve lost the rook,” Sebastian declares, shaking his head. “He’s overcome with these…‘emotions.’ Tragic.” He lifts his hand and walks out. “I’m checking on Ren. Be back later.”
My chest tightens, gaze snapping to my sister’s.
She gives me a sad smile. “He’s in recovery. Agron shot him too. Long story, but he had a heart transplant after his ticker gave out. Surgery’s successful, but we need to wait and see.”
I nod, flashes of that day barreling into my mind, finishing the puzzle I was putting together before the blood loss rendered me unconscious.
Aleksei’s betrayal. His attempt to stop Agron. Me taking the bullet meant for him. Him fleeing because I forgive him. Perhaps that’s Lana’s impact on my life.
Empathy.
Then I remember Ren storming in to save my life.
He must’ve discovered Aleksei’s motives. That’s why he was MIA.
“He’ll recover,” I murmur, voice thick. I can’t lose anyone again. “He has to.”
“Aria’s fiancé.” Lana’s lips tremble, and she brushes the hair off my forehead. “Blake wasn’t so lucky. He wrapped up a surgery and walked into a gunfight. He didn’t make it. To think that could be you…”
“I’m here,” I reassure her.
Someone knocks on the door, snaring our attention.
Navy suit. Perfectly combed hair. Brown eyes.
Tristan Clarke.
“You’re alive and well,” he murmurs, his gaze inscrutable.
Lana stands, fists clenched, ready to defend me with her bare hands.My queen.
“What are you doing here, Special AgentClarke?” Sofia spits out and blocks the man from entering, her hand on his chest.
The FBI agent stiffens, gaze turning icy, and stares at my sister. “A little too familiar, aren’t we? I could arrest you for assaulting a federal officer.” He swipes her hand off his body.
“I’d like to see you try.”
