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The three of us fall into an uneasy silence. The coffee is hot against my palms, but it does nothing to ease the knot in my stomach. Remy leans against the wall, arms crossed, staring at the floor like he’s somewhere else entirely. Lavinia sips her drink, her blue hair falling across one eye.

We wait.

Every beep from the monitors down the hall, every distant voice in the corridor, every second that ticks by on the wall clock feels heavier than the last. The doctor is coming. He has to be. And when he does, everything could change—again.

I clutch the coffee tighter, the heat biting into my skin, and try not to think about how fragile this all feels. How one man lying in recovery could hold the weight of so many broken pieces. How the three of us in this room, bound only by our connection to him, are stuck in this fragile limbo together.

None of us speak. We just wait.

The doctor arrives right after Damon and Hunter return, so they don’t even have time to give me an update on the meeting with the Kings. We’re standing in the hallway just outside Timothy’s room, the machines inside doing all the work for him.

The doctor stops, clipboard in hand, his expression carefully professional. “For now, he’s stable. We were able to repair the area around the stab wound. The blade nicked a major vessel, but we’ve controlled the bleeding and stitched everything back together as best we could. The biggest risk now is infection or secondary complications from the trauma to the surrounding tissue. We’re going to keep him under anesthesia a little longer to give his body time to stabilize and reduce swelling. It will help speed up the initial healing process. We really won’t know the full extent of his recovery until he wakes up and we can assess him properly. The good news is that he’s strong and healthy. It should make a difference in his recovery.”

I stand there absorbing every word, my heart hammering against my ribs. Stable. That’s something. But the uncertainty still clings to me like a shadow. I glance through the window and try not to be shocked by the pale pallor of his skin, the stubble growing thick along his chin. He’s always so put together. So strong. So in control.

I choke back a sob.

The doctor turns to leave, offering a final nod, when a tall, broad-shouldered man emerges from the elevator bank and walks our way with purpose. All three guys straighten up instantly.

Remy frowns.

“Max?” He pushes between Damon and Hunter to approach the man.

“Rem.” The two meet in the middle, gripping hands firmly before pulling each other into a quick, solid hug. “How is he?”

“In recovery,” Remy says. “They just brought him back up, but they said he’ll be under for a while longer.”

I’ve heard the name Max before–a former Baron and one of Timothy’s friends on the police force. It’s the first time I’ve seen him, though, and I take in his gray-streaked blond hair and imposing build. His size and stature are intimidating enough even without spotting the gun and badge holstered at his hip.

Max turns to the rest of us and introduces himself, shaking Damon’s hand first, then Hunter’s, his grip firm and intimidating. When he reaches me, he offers a small, respectful nod. “You must be Arianette. We met at the wedding, but I’m sure you don’t remember. I’m Max.”

“Nice to meet you,” I reply quietly, managing a polite smile despite the exhaustion weighing on me.

“I was surprised to hear you were down here,” Max says to Remy.

Remy’s eyes narrow. “Who are you talking to that’s divulging my whereabouts?”

Max raises his eyebrows, but when he doesn’t answer I hear Remy mutter something about spies being everywhere, before asking, “Well, since you’re the master of information, do you know if anyone has heard from my mom?”

Max shakes his head, “Not that I know of. Have you reached out?”

Remy pulls his marker out of his pocket and drums it against his thigh. “It’s pointless. The hospital in Switzerland won’t give me any information on her. Privacy rules or some bullshit.”

“I’m sure she’s safe,” Lavinia says.

“You’re worried about her?” I blurt. “Or just think she should know?”

His green eyes cut to mine, the hostility barely hidden. “I know you think you’re the star of this world, Baroness, but you’re not the only important woman in my father’s life. If this asshole came after him and came after you, why the hell wouldn’t they go for her, too? It’s pretty fucking obvious this is an attack on Beta Rho, and Black Wedding or not, she’s still tied to him.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Max says, attempting to reassure him, but nothing cuts that anxious energy Remy carries all the time. Well, nothing but Lavina being right up next to him.

Max shifts into business mode and starts in on an update. I half listen–one eye on the hospital room, one on the little circle we’ve formed. We all know that Liam is down the hall on life support, guarded twenty-four-seven. “The good news for you all is that no one is talking about who put him there and why,” Max says. “Although, there are enough witnesses from that night to establish that it was self-defense.”

“Or that’s just what happens when everyone involved happens to have power,” Hunter notes.

“That doesn’t hurt,” Max agrees.

“What about the other one?” Damon asks, being intentionally vague. “Any update on him?”