I cupped his face, gentle. “You threw yourself in front of a bullet for me. You've been shot, stabbed, beaten, and you keep getting back up because you care too much to quit. And I realised while sitting here that I don't want to do this without you. Don't want to go back to existing instead of living.”
The door opened. Noah slipped in quietly, then stopped when he saw us.
“Sorry. I can come back?—”
“No. Stay.” Cal's voice was rough but warm. “Please.”
Noah crossed to the bed, took one look at both of us with red eyes, and his expression softened completely. “You're awake.”
Cal tried to smile. “How bad was it?”
“Bad enough that Viktor's threatened to burn down half of London if Harrow walks free. Troy wanted to camp outside yourdoor. Luka and Ash have been running security shifts.” Noah pulled up a chair and sat heavily. “And Dom hasn't left. Not once. Adrian had to physically drag him out for food and had to restrain him from breaking into the operating theatre when you started bleeding internally.”
“You tried to break into surgery?” Cal looked at me.
“You'd stopped breathing again. They wouldn't tell me what was happening and I needed to know.” I didn't apologise. “Adrian stopped me before I made it past the first door.”
“He's been here the whole time,” Noah said. “Sleeping in that chair. Eating when forced. Refusing to leave even when the doctors said you were stable.”
“Of course he has.” Cal's grip on my hand tightened. “Stubborn bastard.”
“Look who's talking.” But Noah was smiling. “You've been unconscious for two weeks and the first thing you do is argue with him. Some things never change.”
“Can't help it. He's very arguable.”
“I'm sitting right here,” I said.
“We know.” They said it in unison, then both smiled.
Noah stood and moved closer to the bed. “I'm glad you're back, Cal. We all are. Viktor and Sebastian have been asking about you every day. Luka and Ash have been coordinating security. Troy wanted to camp out in the corridor but Adrian said no.”
“Tell them thank you. For caring. For being there.”
“They'll want to see you soon. When you're stronger.” Noah looked at me with an expression that didn't leave room for argument. “And you need to actually sleep now. In a real bed. For more than two hours.”
“I'm fine?—”
“You're not fine. You're exhausted. And now that Cal's awake and stable, you need to take care of yourself.” Noah's voicewas firm. “Go to Ravenswood. Shower. Eat. Sleep. Come back tomorrow.”
“I'm not leaving?—”
“Dom.” Cal squeezed my hand. “Go. I'm okay. I'm awake. I'm not going anywhere, and Noah's right—you look like hell.”
“Flattering.”
“Honest.” Cal's smile was gentle. “I need you functional, not running on fumes and guilt. So go. Rest. Come back tomorrow and we'll argue some more.”
I wanted to protest, wanted to tell them I'd stayed this long and I wasn't leaving now. But Cal's eyes were already drifting closed, exhaustion pulling him under despite being newly awake.
“Fine. But I'm coming back first thing tomorrow.”
“I know.” Cal's voice was already fading. “Stubborn bastard.”
Noah walked me to the door. “He's going to be okay. The worst is over.”
“You sure?”
“I'm sure. He's awake, coherent, healing—all good signs.” Noah gripped my shoulder. “Now go.”
