“You haven’t left.”
“No.”
“You should sleep.”
“I’m fine.”
He’s lying. I can see the exhaustion in every line of his face. But I don’t push. Just reach for his hand and he takes it immediately. His grip is warm. Solid. Real.
Proof I’m not still in that basement dreaming of rescue.
A doctor comes in an hour later. Checks my vitals, asks about pain levels, adjusts my medication. She’s in her forties, professional, gentle when she examines the worst injuries.
“Broken ribs are healing well. We had to set your shoulder but it should recover fully with physical therapy. The cuts on your face won’t scar if you keep them clean.” She makes notes on her tablet. “You were very lucky.”
Lucky feels like the wrong word for what happened to me.
But I’m alive. That’s more than I had any right to expect.
Julian visits that afternoon. Brings Nadia with him. They both look like they haven’t slept either.
Nadia hugs me carefully. “We were so worried.”
“I’m okay.”
“You’re not. But you will be.”
Julian stands at the foot of my bed. His face is harder than usual. Colder. “The Petrovs who did this to you won’t be a problem anymore.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means they’ll be dead. All of them. We’re going to hit every Petrov operation in the city. Dismantle their entire organization.”
The information should probably bother me more than it does. All those deaths because of what happened to me. But I can’t find it in myself to care. They tortured me for hours. Tried to break me. Threatened my children.
“Good,” I say.
Julian nods once. Satisfied.
Nadia changes the subject. Tells me about the boys. How they’ve been asking when I’m coming home. How Finn’s been sleeping with his stuffed bear he hasn’t touched in months. How Liam keeps checking my room to see if I’m back yet.
“They want to visit,” she says carefully. “But only if you’re ready. I can keep putting them off if you need more time.”
I want to see them. Want to hold them and prove to myself they’re safe. But I also don’t want them seeing me like this. Broken and bandaged and barely able to move.
“Are the bruises bad?” I ask. “On my face?”
Nadia glances at Cassian. He’s the one who answers.
“They’ve faded some. The swelling’s mostly gone. You look hurt, but not…” He trails off.
“Not gruesome?”
“Not as bad as you did three days ago.”
That’s probably the best I’m going to get. “Then yes. I want to see them. But prepare them first. Make sure they understand I’m hurt but healing.”
Nadia nods. “I’ll bring them tomorrow. Give you one more day to rest.”
