Page 233 of Damsel in Disguise

Social media, in its infinite wisdom, had already decided that CynoTech had somehow marched into the underworld and dragged an entire illegal organization into the light.

Our stock price climbed.

Our reputation climbed even faster.

The company that had once been famous for software and innovation is suddenly being called a symbol of justice.

No one knows the whole truth.

No one knows that the quiet professor who had dragged me out of a psychiatric ward, hidden me, lied to me, and eventually taken two bullets for me had been standing at the center of all of it. The main masterpiece behind the unexpected rise of CynoTech.

My family certainly didn’t. As far as they knew, Alistair saved me from HINR and took bullets for me. Perhaps that was enough.

A quiet sigh draws my attention back to the bed.

Blue eyes have blinked open and are already watching us.

“Alistair,” the relief hits me so suddenly I forget to breathe. “I’ve been waiting for you to wake up.”

A faint crease appears between his brows, as though waking up to find all of us standing around his hospital bed is a mild inconvenience.

He’s still not used to people genuinely caring for him.

“I appear to have survived,” he says quietly, his voice rough from exhaustion and blood loss, but his eyes remain on mine. “You may stop looking as though the doctors have delivered unfortunate statistics.”

Relief hits me so hard that happy tears sting my eyes, even though I’ve absolutely no idea how long he has been awake.

“I was unconscious for less than a week, I assume, and you reorganized my entire life. Impressive efficiency,” he says to my brothers and tries to sit up, immediately regretting it.

A flicker of pain crosses his face before he buries it beneath that familiar mask of indifference.

Without thinking, I slip one arm behind his good shoulder and help him settle back against the pillows.

Asher folds his arms.

“I’d make a joke about shooting your other thigh because that one seems to have been left out, but Ariella would hit me.”

“Absolutely, you jerk.”

He looks genuinely pleased with himself. “Worth it.”

My hand shoots out and hits his leg. He yelps.

“Violence really is a Keinston’s love language,” Adrian says with a sigh.

I bite the inside of my cheek so I don’t laugh.

Alistair studies the three of us for a moment. “I appear to have joined a deeply concerning family.”

“You absolutely have,” Asher says. “There are no refunds.”

“Unfortunately, you’ve already passed the entrance exam,” Adrian chimes in.

Alistair glances down at the bandages wrapped around his torso and thigh before looking back at them with sarcasm.

“I was under the impression that the entrance exam involved surviving attempted murder.”

“That was only the interview process,” Asher replies.