Of course he’s right.
Chace. Smart, way too fucking smart. Too calm when I’m burning up inside.
I take a ragged breath, letting my pulse slow just enough to think.
He already has people hunting my piece of shit dad. Every second counts. Police are going to want to grill me the second they know I’m awake.
Shit.
I flex my fingers, testing the pain, the stiffness, the raw, burned edges of my body. Every muscle screams at me. But I can think, and thinking is power. Thinking means I can plan, and planning means I can act.
I need Seraphina alive. Breathing. Holding on for me.
I need to reach her before Gideon’s rats ever catch her scent.
And I fucking will.
I will tear through flesh and bone and blood to get to her.
The rage tightens in my chest. The pain burns through my veins like gasoline, and I welcome it.
It doesn’t weaken me.
It forges me.
I didn’t fail her.
Not then .Not now. Not ever again.
This time, I become the storm.
This time, I fucking fight.
Nurses adjust IVs, monitors, and carefully change the bloodied bandage. Pain gnaws at every nerve. The door opens, and a tall man in scrubs steps in, clipboard in hand. The faint antiseptic scent hits me again, sharp and clinical. He glances at the monitors.
“Mr. Baker, you gave us quite the scare last I saw you, alert while being intubated. ” he says gently, though his voice carriesauthority. “You’ve been awake on and off for ten days. It’s a lot to take in, I know.”
I lift my head enough to glare at him. “How long before I can be discharged, Doc?”
He shakes his head slightly. “Not yet. You’ve got a collapsed lung that required a chest tube. Multiple stab wounds—your left side took the brunt. Internal bleeding. Contusions across your torso and legs. Your ribs are fractured in two places, which makes deep breathing and movement painful. You’ll be healing, but this isn’t a quick fix.”
I close my eyes, exhaling a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. The pain in my chest sharpens as I shift slightly.
“But,” he continues, stepping closer, “you can start moving around your room. Small steps, carefully. The bathroom is attached, so you won’t have to go far. We’ll have a nurse with you at first, help you sit upright, get you washing, standing, even a few cautious steps. Your body needs time.”
I swallow, raw and hollow. “I…I can’t just stay here.”
“You won’t have to,” he says firmly. “Not forever. But today, we start with your room. A few steps, a few minutes upright, then back to bed. We repeat, building strength slowly. You’ll feel sore, maybe light-headed, maybe scared—but we’ll guide you.”
“I’ll be cartwheeling in no time. It’s not like I haven’t lived with broken ribs before.”
“Can we get him unhooked so he can start moving around?” Chace asks.
I nod, a tremor running through my arms as I shift. Pain rips through my chest, but it sharpens me. Every breath sears, every heartbeat drums fury through my veins.
Weakness is a cage. I refuse it.
My wife is out there. Somewhere. In the dark. Surrounded by monsters who think they can touch what’s mine.
