The blood on my knuckles dried.
The phone stayed dark.
I stayed on the floor.
Alone.
Breathing.
Bleeding.
Loving her.
Hating myself.
Waiting for Hades to arrive and fix the only wound that didn't matter anymore.
Chapter 29
Belle
I walked toward the hospital bed with trembling hands and a throat full of needles.
The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. Antiseptic stung my nostrils. Machines beeped in a steady rhythm—heartbeat, oxygen, life measured in mechanical intervals.
I expected guilt. Expected panic. Expected the crushing weight of fear I'd carried since the phone call.
Instead, I felt?—
Empty.
Hollowed out.
Wrong.
My father lay pale against the sheets, thinner than I remembered. His skin had a translucent quality, stretched too tight over bones that seemed sharper than before. The hospital gown dwarfed him. Made him look small. Fragile. Mortal in ways I wasn't ready to acknowledge.
He opened his eyes.
"Belle?"
My knees nearly buckled.
I gripped the doorframe hard enough my knuckles went white. Forced my legs to carry me forward. The linoleum squeaked under my shoes. Each step felt heavier than the last.
I'd only been away from Gideon for an hour.
And I missed him.
The realization hit like a physical blow. Sharp. Unexpected. Unwanted.
I missed his scent—cedar and something darker that clung to expensive fabric. Missed his warmth—the solid weight of him behind me in bed, arm heavy across my waist, breath steady against my neck. Missed the way he said Go to him with a voice breaking in all the places he never let anyone see.
My chest throbbed with a strange ache. Not grief. Something worse.
Longing.
For the man who'd broken bones for me. Who'd destroyed his own hand protecting me from wolves I'd been too proud to name. Who'd held me through the night like I was something precious instead of something owned. Who'd let me go when letting go was killing him.
