"Come here." He shifts over despite the pain it must cause, making room. "Carefully, I don't want you pulling my stitches."
I climb into the narrow hospital bed beside him, tucking myself against his uninjured side. His arm comes around me, solid and real, and gradually my breathing steadies.
"I don't risk my life like it's nothing," he says quietly. "I risk it for things that matter. For my brothers, for people who need protection, for you." His lips brush my hair. "And I'm not going anywhere. I made you a promise, remember? Forever."
"Forever's a long time."
"Good. Gives us plenty of time to figure out how to make this work." He's quiet for a moment. "I know it's not going to be easy. You're going to write stories I don't like, and I'm going to do club business you don't approve of. But as long as we're honest with each other, as long as we keep talking, we'll figure it out."
"You really believe that?"
"I have to, because the alternative's losing you, and that's not acceptable."
I press closer, breathing in the scent of him beneath the hospital smell. "When you get out of here, I'm taking you back to the compound and not letting you out of bed for a week."
"Is that a threat or a promise?"
"Both."
His laugh is soft. "Looking forward to it."
We lie there together, his heartbeat steady beneath my ear, and eventually exhaustion pulls me under. I drift off pressed against him, safe despite the sterile hospital room and the machines monitoring his vitals.
When I wake, it's to find a nurse checking his IV and giving me a disapproving look.
"You're not supposed to be in the bed," she says.
"Then you better not tell anyone." Mason's awake, looking more alert than he did last night. "She stays with me."
The nurse opens her mouth to argue, then apparently thinks better of it when she sees the look on Mason's face. "Fine, but if you pull your stitches, I'm not explaining to the doctor why."
She leaves, and I carefully extract myself from the bed. "I should go. Let you rest properly."
"Stay, please." His hand catches mine. "I sleep better when you're here."
"The nurse is right. I could hurt you."
"You won't. And even if you did, it'd be worth it." He tugs me back down. "Besides, I've got plans for when I'm healed. I need you well-rested for them."
"What kind of plans?"
"The kind that involve you naked and screaming my name." His smile is wicked despite the hospital gown and IV. "Assuming you're interested."
"I might be convinced." I settle beside him more carefully this time. "But first you have to heal."
"Then I'll heal fast. I’m very motivated."
The next three days pass in a blur of hospital routine, brothers visiting, and physical therapy sessions where Mason pushes himself harder than the doctors want. I split my time between his room and the compound, making sure Sarah's settling in and working on my article.
The words flow easier than they have in months, the story is writing itself now that I have all the pieces. Castellano's arrest, the trafficking network's exposure, the girls who were saved. I weave it together with the skill of years of investigative journalism, and when I'm done, I've got a piece that's going to win awards.
Robert reviews it for legal issues, making sure I'm not opening myself to lawsuits, and Agent Forrister confirms the facts are accurate. By the time Mason's discharged, I've got afinished article ready to submit to every major publication in the country.
"You did it," Mason says, reading over my shoulder as we sit in his room at the compound. "This is going to change everything."
"It already has." I save the document and close my laptop. "The story's important, but it's not the most important thing that came out of this."
"What is?"
