Tears welled in her eyes, tracking clean lines through the smudges of blood and makeup on her cheeks. "I love you too," she whispered. "So much it terrifies me."
I brushed her tears away with my thumbs, mindful of her injuries. Around us, officers continued to secure the scene, cataloging evidence and taking photographs. The paramedics had arrived and were speaking with the officers restraining thestalker, who had finally gone quiet though his eyes stayed on Cecelia with an intensity that made my skin crawl.
None of it mattered. In that moment, my entire world had narrowed to the woman in my arms—brave, resilient, and somehow still standing after everything she'd been through. My wife. Not because of convenience or blackmail or any of the other bullshit reasons that had brought us together, but because she was the only person who had ever made me feel like I was home.
"Let's get you checked out," I murmured, noticing how she still cradled her wrist.
She nodded against my chest, her body sagging slightly as if the admission had cost her the last of her strength. I swept her up into my arms, holding her against me as I had so many times before, but with a new understanding of just how precious my burden was.
"I've got you," I whispered again, carrying her toward the elevator where the paramedics waited. "And I'm never letting go."
Her arms tightened around my neck, her face tucked against my throat. "Promise?" she asked, her voice small and vulnerable in a way that made my heart constrict painfully in my chest.
"I promise," I told her, and sealed it with a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Whatever comes next, we face it together."
As I carried her past the chaos of our violated home, past the man who had tried and failed to take her from me, I felt something shift and settle into place inside me. For the first time in my life, I understood with perfect clarity what mattered most. Not money or status or my father's approval or any of the other hollow pursuits that had defined my existence.
Just this. Just her. Just the chance to love Cecelia for as long as she would let me.
Chapter 36
Cece
Everything hurt. Breathing hurt. Swallowing hurt. Even lying perfectly still on the stiff hospital mattress hurt. But the physical pain was nothing compared to the knot of fear twisting in my stomach—not for myself, but for Edward and Lucia. Their faces, bloody and terrified behind strips of duct tape, haunted me each time I blinked. I hadn't seen them since Rafe had carried me from the penthouse. I didn't know if they were alive or dead, and the uncertainty clawed at me worse than the bruises around my throat.w
I forced my eyes open, blinking away the dull haze of pain medication. Rafe stood at the window, his broad back to me, shoulders rigid beneath his wrinkled dress shirt. Even from behind, I could sense the barely contained rage coursing through him—it was there in the tense set of his spine, the way his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides.
"Edward," I croaked, my voice nothing but a painful rasp. "Lucia."
Rafe turned immediately, crossing the room in two long strides. The look on his face would have taken my breath awayif I'd had any to spare. He reached for my hand, careful to avoid the IV line and the bruises that flowered purple and blue against my skin.
"They're okay," he said. "They're being treated in another wing. Edward has a concussion and some facial lacerations. Lucia's right arm is broken, but they're both stable."
My eyes filled with tears of relief. "I need to see them."
"Cecelia." Rafe's fingers tightened around mine, gentle despite the tension radiating from him. "The doctor said you need to rest. Your wrist is fractured and you have severe bruising around your trachea."
"I don't care." I tried to push myself up on my elbows, wincing as pain shot through my wrist. "They were hurt because of me. I need to see them."
Rafe placed a hand on my shoulder, easing me back against the pillows with a touch so tender it made my chest ache. "They're family," he said, the words simple but loaded with meaning. "They know you'd be there if you could. And they wouldn't want you hurting yourself more."
Family. The word settled over me like a blanket.
"At least tell me that man is locked up," I whispered, throat burning with each word.
A muscle jumped in Rafe's jaw. "He's in custody. Mac is personally overseeing the case."
Before I could ask more, the door swung open and a doctor entered.
"Mrs. de Luca," she said, her gaze moving from my chart to my face. "I'm Dr. Warner. How are you feeling?"
"Like I've been strangled and thrown around my apartment," I replied dryly.
"Well, your X-rays show a hairline fracture in your right wrist. We've set it in a brace rather than a cast to allow for some mobility." She tapped the tablet screen. "The bruising aroundyour neck will look worse before it looks better, but fortunately, there's no permanent damage to your trachea. You'll be hoarse for a few days, and swallowing might be uncomfortable."
"What about her head?" Rafe asked, his eyes never leaving my face. "He slammed her against the wall."
Dr. Warner nodded. "The CT scan showed a mild concussion. Nothing too serious, but you'll need to take it easy. No strenuous activity, limited screen time, and plenty of rest." She turned back to me. "I'd like to keep you overnight for observation, but given your stable condition, you can be discharged today if you'd prefer. As long as you're not alone and someone can monitor you for the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours."
