We won. Tiberius is dead. Hazel’s birthplace is free. But I still feel like I lost.
This isn’t the end. It can’t be the end of our story.
She’s not leaving me here. I won’t let her.
Before I can teleport, Nevaeh grabs my arm, ready to come with me, but Anxo stops her.“Sweetheart, we have to make sure Zale takes the throne. Hazel wouldn’t want us to leave without ending Tiberius’ rule for good. Let him go. Dean will make sure she’s okay.”
With a final nod, Anxo steps back, his confidence feeding my hope. “We’ll be home soon. Take care of her.”
40. Holding on to you
Dean
A week later
Seven days of waiting. Seven days of nothing.
Once the healer checks on Hazel for the fourth time this morning, I slip out to take a quick shower.
I hate leaving her, even for a second, but it’s not like she’s missing me, or she would’ve woken up by now.
It’s been a week since we left Eldoris, and Hazel still hasn’t woken up. At first, I was sure she’d be back on her feet any day now, ordering me around like nothing happened. But even after Anxo spent hours at her side, piecing her memories back together, and Grace fed her potion after potion, there’s been no change. Not even a twitch.
I don’t want to admit it, but I’m starting to panic. I’m getting tired of pretending I’m fine just so no one notices I’m losing my fucking mind.
If she never wakes up…
I can’t even finish the thought.
My chest tightens until breathing feels like dragging air through broken glass. Fuck. I can’t even think about it without falling apart.
I turn the shower off and dry myself as fast as I can. I don’t know when it started, but the longer I’m away from Hazel, the worse it gets. My hands start shaking, my chest locking up, everystep turning heavier than the last. I can’t go more than a few minutes without seeing her.
But it’s not my fault. It’s hers.
Why is she still stuck in fucking dreamland while I’m out here begging her to wake up every hour like a broken clock?
I swear she can hear me. She’s just doing this to torture me.
Every day is the same. I wake up pissed at her for leaving me like this. By noon, I’m worrying she’ll get sick if she doesn’t wake up and eat something. By evening, I’m sitting on the edge of the bed, counting every second she doesn’t move. And at night, I curl up beside her, holding her while I fall apart, crying myself to sleep.
I don’t know how much longer I can do this without losing my damn mind.
Maybe if I threaten to throw away all her daggers, she’ll wake up to save them. She’d stab me first, but I’m willing to take that risk.
What the fuck am I even thinking? If she doesn’t care about me, why would she care about her stupid daggers? I’m obviously more important.
So yeah. Entering week two without my mate means living on the edge of delusion.
The bathroom door shuts behind me, and when I look up, expecting to see Hazel lying exactly where I left her like a fucking statue, I freeze when the bed is empty.
What the fuck.
“Hazel?” I turn in a slow circle, scanning the room, but there’s nothing. No movement. No sound.
I even check under the bed like an idiot. Like women in a coma sometimes roll off the bed for fun.
She’s not here. In our room. Where I left her.
