"I need—" her voice is so quiet I can barely hear her. "I need some time to process all this, Jakob."
"Yes," I say, forcing a strength I do not feel into my voice. "I suppose you would."
"I'm not…I'm coming back."
I offer her a smile, which I'm sure is sad and self-pitying. I know how I must sound. I no longer care. "Yes, of course." I shake my head. "Let us not lie anymore, Brys. This is goodbye. I'll make the call about your security detail after you have left. They will meet you in the lobby."
"Jakob—" a sigh, a shake of her head. "You’re impossible. You're not listening." She stands up, presses her palm to my jaw. "I'll be back. I just need time to think."
"Okay," I tell her. She needs to think I believe her, so she can make her escape.
She rolls her eyes. "Jesus, you're impossible, you ridiculous, arrogant, self-centered, beautiful, delusional man. If I were going to run away from you, don’t you think I would say so? When, in the time you've known me, have I ever held back what I really thought?"
"Beautiful?"
She cackles. "Of course, that's the one you ask about.” A sighing shake of her head. “Good lord, Jakob. Just lay there and figure out how to get over the self-pity bullshit while I take a few goddamn minutes to process the fucking insanity you've just dumped on me."
"That's a lot of curse words," I point out.
Brys nods, laughing. "Right? Growing up, my father always got on my case when I swore. He insisted that cursing was the mark of a small mind. And then, as a woman in business—and one combating both the accusations of nepotismandthe fact of it—I had to be twice as good as the men around me to get half as far, which meant everything I did, wore, and said was scrutinized and put under a microscope. But now? I like cursing. I'm a grown-ass woman. I'm the CEO of a multi-billion-dollar company. I can swear as much as I fucking want."
"You know that's false, don't you?" A voice says—Sophia. "The whole adage of cursing being a mark of a small mind bit. Science has proven that having a wide vocabulary of curse words is a sign of creativity and high intelligence. Science has also proven that shouting and cursing measurably and demonstrably reduce pain and speed healing."
Brys meets Sophia's eyes, and something passes between the women.
Brys leaves the room, and Sophia stands at the foot of my bed for a moment, just staring at me. "Weird seeing you there."
"Not as weird as it is to be here," I admit. "I have never been in a hospital bed before."
"Why does that not surprise me?" Sophia moves around and takes the seat Brys recently vacated. "You got lucky."
"Did I?"
She nods. "You did." A flick of her finger at my wound. "I don't mean that."
I frown. "Then to what are you referring?"
She jerks her chin toward the door. "Her."
I shake my head. "Lucky is hardly the word I'd use."
"Oh?" Her tone is sharp, as only she can make it; a lesser man would quail at the acid in her tone. "Do tell."
I open my mouth to answer, but she cuts me off.
"She is a hell of a woman, Jakob. You know it was she who shot out the light? If not for that, I think both you and Nicolae would be dead. She stuck by you every step of the fucking way, my friend. When she could have stayed back where it was safe, she crossed a goddamnedminefieldfor you. She traversed that tunnel of fucking nightmares—foryou. She faced death—for you. She still has brain matter in her hair. She sat by your bedside in this—" she shifts, "intenselymotherfucking uncomfortable chair for almost two days."
Discomfort burns in my gut. "Sophia, I…"
She holds up a hand. "You listen to me, now, Jakob." I snap my teeth shut and nod once; satisfied that I'm listening, she continues. "None of us deserves a goddamn thing. All of us, this entire island of misfit toys you've created—all of us are deeply, deeply fucked up. I slaughtered thirty-two people, most of whom were innocent. Rev, Chance, Kane, Saxon—Jesus, Jakob, theman is known as the Bloody Viking, for fuck's sake.Allof us have closets so full of skeletons they won't even close. We’ve all got demons. No one can absolve any of us of our sins, Jakob. I'm not sure weshouldbe. And to be honest, if it's absolution you need…shit, pick a church."
"Some pep talk, Sophia."
“Shut up, I'm still talking." She smiles, gentling the delivery; it is truly weird to see a smile on her face. "Call it tough love, if that helps. And itislove, Jakob." She swallows hard, blinks harder. "I love you. As a brother, as…a friend? I don't know if there's a word for what we are to each other." She looks up at the ceiling. "Do you remember when I offered myself to you?"
"Of course," I say, my voice thick and gruff. "You thought it was expected."
"It was so confusing to me, how angry you were. But that? You refusing me and getting angry that I'd done that… that’s when I realized I could trust you. I have worked for you for over ten years. I have never balked at any of the tasks you've assigned me. I've helped you build Club Sin. I helped you find the Arrows. I…I hope that I have earned your trust in return."
