"Is she hurt?" I demand.
"No."
"Is she in danger?"
"Potentially," he says slowly. "But we're handling it."
"That's not good enough," I snap, and the effort makes my chest scream. I ignore it. "She's out there dealing with Killian, with Talia, with God knows what else, and I'm stuck in this fucking bed?—"
"You just woke up from a coma," Asher interrupts, voice level but firm. "Give yourself five minutes before you try to save the world."
"I don't need five minutes," I start. "I need?—"
The door opens.
Valentina.
She's wearing my hoodie—the Raiders one I gave her months ago that's too big for her, sleeves rolled up multiple times. Her hair's pulled back in a messy ponytail. No makeup. Dark circles under eyes that are red and swollen like she's been crying for hours.
She stops in the doorway. Sees me sitting up, eyes open, awake.
Her entire face crumbles.
"Xavier," she breathes, and her voice breaks on my name like it's the only word that matters.
Then she's moving—crossing the room in four strides—and I barely have time to open my arms before she crashes into me. The impact sends pain shooting through my chest but I don't care. I wrap my arms around her and pull her close, one hand tangling in her hair, the other pressed flat against her back.
She's shaking. Full-body tremors that I can feel through the thin hospital gown. Her fingers clutch at the fabric like she's afraid I'll disappear if she lets go.
"Hey," I murmur into her hair, breathing in the familiar scent of her. "I'm okay. I'm right here."
She makes a sound that's half-sob, half-laugh. "You're awake."
"Yeah, baby. I'm awake."
"You're really awake." She pulls back just enough to look at me, hands coming up to frame my face like she needs to confirm I'm real, that this isn't another dream. Tears stream down her cheeks unchecked. "They said—the doctors said you might not—that even if you did wake up you might not be you anymore?—"
"I'm here," I say, cutting off the spiral before it can pull her under. "I'm me. I'm not going anywhere."
She shakes her head, more tears falling. "Your legs. Zay said?—"
"Don't worry about my legs right now," I interrupt gently.
"But—"
"Valentina." I tilt her chin up with one hand, force her to meet my eyes. "I'm alive. You're alive. That's all that matters right now."
She breaks again, folding back into me, and I hold her while she cries. Behind her, I see Zay and Asher exchange a look—some silent communication I'm too focused on her to interpret—before they slip quietly out of the room.
The door clicks shut.
We're alone.
She cries for what feels like forever—deep, gasping sobs that shake her entire body. I hold her through it, one hand stroking her hair in slow, soothing motions, murmuring reassurances that I hope sound steadier than I feel. "I'm here. It's okay. I've got you."
When she finally pulls back, she wipes her face with my hoodie sleeve, leaving dark streaks of moisture on the gray fabric.
"I'm sorry," she says, voice raw and wrecked. "I didn't mean to fall apart like that?—"
