The sight of the tube, and the slow drip of clear liquid, makes my stomach twist. It feels too fragile, too temporary, like a thread barely holding him to this world. My stomach churns. I hate this. I hate seeing him like this. I hate feeling this helpless.
"The IV will help stabilize him, but if he crashes, we’ll need a transfusion fast." He glances at me, then gestures to the IV bag. "If it runs low, replace it with one of these." He points to the two sitting on the nightstand. "Just unclip the old bag and attach the new one here." He taps the IV line to show me. "Make sure to flush the line before switching bags—just squeeze the clamp shut, remove the old bag, spike the new one, and open the line again. It should drip steadily. If it stops or you see air bubbles, clamp it immediately and let me know."
He picks up a small vial and syringe. "This is his pain medication. It goes directly into the IV port here," he taps a small rubber opening on the tubing. "Draw up the dose, push it in slowly, then flush with saline to clear the line. Don't overdo it. Too much and he'll stop breathing."
His eyes flick to the gauze covering the wound. "Check his bandages every couple of hours. If the blood soaks through, apply pressure and change them. Look for swelling, redness, or anything leaking that shouldn't be—pus means infection, and we don’t have time for that shit."
He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a card and pressing it into my palm. "My number. If his fever spikes, if he gets disoriented, or if his breathing changes—call me immediately. No hesitation."
He exhales, glancing back at Asher one last time before straightening. "I've done all I can. Now it's up to him." Without another word, he grabs his bag and heads for the door, his footsteps echoing as he disappears down the hall.
I nod numbly, barely processing the words. My chest feels tight, like someone’s wrapped a fist around my ribs and won’t let go. Asher stirs, his head rolling to the side, and I hold my breath.
His lashes flutter, just barely, his gaze locking onto mine for a brief, fragile moment. Relief crashes into me so fast it nearly knocks me over.
“You’re an idiot,” I whisper, my voice cracking despite myself.
His lips twitch, the ghost of a smirk. “Didn’t… mean to ruin your night.”
A shaky laugh slips out before I can stop it. “Shut up and go to sleep.”
But as the silence settles in, my mind refuses to follow. I stare at him, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest, while the IV drip working to keep him stable. Seeing himlike this—so vulnerable—is a stark contrast to the Asher I know. The man who carries himself like a king, who walks into a room and commands it without a word. Now, his piercing blue eyes are glassy and pale, his skin almost sickly under the dim light. He looks fragile in a way I never thought possible, and it unsettles me.
The blood is cleaned up, his wound stitched, but the damage isn't just physical. Not for me.
Serafina.The name lingers, heavy and unshakable. Who is she? It doesn’t matter. Not really. Because I already know the truth—everything between us was just smoke and mirrors, a carefully constructed lie. A sharp pang twists in my gut, but I shove it down. I refuse to let it hurt. I refuse to let him matter.
But still, I don’t leave. Even though I should. Even though I know better.
I drag a chair closer to the bed and sink into it, exhaustion pressing on me. My body is screaming for rest, but my mind won’t let go of the image of him lying there, so fragile. It feels like watching a statue crack, something unbreakable reduced to something painfully human. Despite everything, despite the questions clawing at my mind, I can't leave him like this.
I grab the remote from the nightstand and turn on the TV, but before I do, my hand hesitates. I glance at Asher, my fingers twitching like they might reach for him, or might touch his hand just to feel something solid, something real. But I stop myself.Not real, remember?With a sharp inhale, I flick the TV on, letting the low hum of background noise fill the room. The screen flickers, mindless static giving way to some late-night show I don’t care about. Anything to keep me from thinking too much, from feeling too much. But I do.
And that scares me more than anything.
Chapter 42
A Love Letter Written in Ashes
Violet
The hours slip away in a blur. I give him pain meds when he stirs, changing out his fluids, and checking his temp. The weight of exhaustion drags at my limbs, but I force myself to stay alert. Every movement feels slow, my body aching from hours spent hovering over him. The helplessness gnaws at me—I hate seeing him like this, hate that there’s nothing I can do except wait.
A knot tightens in my throat. "Come on, Asher. You’re stronger than this." I barely leave his side, forcing him to drink sips of water when he stirs awake, while whispering assurances he likely doesn’t even hear. I am exhausted. Boris came at some point and brought me a plate of food. I can barely eat though.
After this last dose of meds I finally allowed myself to fall asleep in my makeshift bed in the chair I pulled from the sitting area.
I don't know how long I have been asleep, when a moan next to me wakes me.
I sit up, my pulse hammering in my ears. His face is covered in a gloss of sweat. My hand presses to his forehead—too hot. Too damn hot. My fingers tremble as I check his pulse, his breath shallow and uneven.
He’s burning up.Fuck
I hurry to the ensuite, grabbing a fresh washcloth and soaking it in cold water before wringing it out. Returning to his side, I strip the damp sheets away from his body, the scent of sweat and fever clinging to the air. His skin is clammy beneath my fingers, his chest rising and falling in uneven, shallow pants. I press the chilled cloth to his forehead,hoping to bring the fever down, but he barely reacts. His body twitches, restless, and lost in fevered delirium.
I hesitate, phone in hand, and my fingers hovering over the call button.What if I'm overreacting?But then I look at him—his skin flushed, his breath ragged—and the doubt vanishes.
I dial, my voice tight as I explain the new symptoms to the doctor.
