I paused just inside the doorway, taking in the room. Ishika lay on her back, machines breathing for her in soft, steady sounds. I neared the bed and stared down at her. The main injury hidden beneath the hospital gown, I noticed her bandaged arm, skin pale against the sheets and a bruise blooming at her temple.
I’d faced guns without blinking, watched men beg, given orders that ended lives with a nod. Yet none of that prepared me for the sight of her like this.
Still. Silent. Unaware of her hold on me. I stepped closer, my hand hovering over hers briefly before I touched her, afraid she might vanish if I wasn’t careful. When my fingers finally closed around her hand, it was warm.
“You’re impossible, little fox,” I murmured. “Do you know that?”
The anger returned in a flash. Instinctive, familiar, rising fast and aimed at everything. The man who pulled the trigger. The men who let him get that close. Myself.
“You don’t get to do that,” I whispered, leaning closer. “You don’t get to decide my life is worth more than yours.” My voice shook despite my effort to keep it steady. “I brought you therebecause I wanted you to leave,” I admitted. “I thought if you saw enough of this world, you’d walk away on your own.” I looked at her face. Peaceful now, thick lashes resting against her cheeks. “And instead, you stepped in front of a goddamn bullet.” My thumb brushed lightly over her knuckles. “I don’t know how to protect someone like you. You don’t listen. You don’t run. You don’t fear the right things.” My throat tightened. “And now I don’t know how to keep you safe. From me.”
Abruptly, I straightened when I realized my hand was shaking and forced it to still, realizing this was where men like me pulled back, where we hardened again, where we turned vulnerability into something tenacious just to survive.
Instead, I sat down, the chair scraping softly against the floor, loud in the quiet room. I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, still holding her hand.
“They’ll pay, little fox,” I vowed. “Everyone involved. I won’t let this touch you again.” I watched the gentle rise and fall of her chest, wondering about the exact moment my heart committed to this woman. “You proved me wrong, didn’t you?” I let out a soft laugh, remembering her threat the first time I fucked her mouth.
“One day, I’ll get even, Mr. Rossi and you will fall for me. Hard.”
Fuck, she’d had me by the balls since day one. Slowly, I shook my head. “You saved me,” I muttered. “And I hate that I needed saving.” I bowed my head, resting my forehead against the edge of the bed, close enough to feel her warmth. “But when you wake up, you don’t get to leave. Not after this. Not after you made yourself the one thing I can’t replace.”
The machines continued their calm, indifferent rhythm. And for the first time in a very long life built on violence and control, I stayed exactly where I was, waiting, helpless, and exposed. For someone else to wake and decide what I became next.
A soft sound had me lifting my head to look over my shoulder. Dr. Takahashi stood just inside the open door, arms folded across his chest, mask in place, watching me.
I frowned. “I’m not leaving,” the words came out on a tight-lipped scowl.
He regarded me for a measured second before stepping further into the room and closing the door with quiet finality. He checked the monitors without hurry, studied the readings, then looked at Ishika as though confirming something privately before turning his attention back to me.
“She remains stable.” A slight pause followed. “However, there’s additional information you should be aware of.”
My spine stiffened. “What.”
“Your girlfriend is pregnant.” His voice did not soften. “The trauma has not compromised the pregnancy. At present, both are stable.”
Girlfriend. Pregnant
The words sounded foreign in my head, and I bit down the sarcastic laugh threatening to spill, remembering Ishika’s words.
“Legacy? One of you is enough to bring the world to its knees, I can’t imagine what more of you would do.”
I stared at her, at the faint rise beneath the hospital blanket, trying to reconcile the image of her stepping in front of a bullet with the reality of what he’d just said. While I was dragging her through meetings, blood and the quiet war that followed my name, she was carrying something that belonged to both of us.
“You’re certain,” I asked, my voice lower now, stripped of its earlier edge.
“Yes.” His gaze did not waver. “We confirmed it twice.”
I let the knowledge settle fully this time instead of pushing it away. A child. Mine. Ours. The future I’d never permitted myselfto consider now breathing quietly in a hospital bed after nearly being erased before I even knew it existed.
Dr. Takahashi adjusted the IV line with careful precision before speaking again. “When she regains consciousness, her environment will be critical. Emotional stability, rest, physical security, minimal disruption. The body heals more effectively when the mind is not expecting chaos.”
A humorless breath left me at that. “You’re asking the wrong man for calm,” I said quietly, my eyes still fixed on her. “Violence anticipates me.”
“I am not asking,” he replied. “I am informing you.”
I looked at him, frowning. “She will not be returning to whatever circumstances led to this,” I added, my jaw tightening. “Anyone involved will be removed.”
“And afterward? Recovery requires more than revenge.”
