"Elaine....."

"No." I sit up straighter beside Zane instantly. "Absolutely not."

My voice comes out sharper than I intend, but I honestly don’t care anymore....not after tonight, not after blood on my hands and gunshots and operating rooms and almost losing hi.

I turn toward Zane instinctively. He still looks pale against the hospital sheets. There are dark shadows beneath his eyes now, exhaustion etched into every line of his face no matter how hard he tries to hide it and somehow Lucas expects me to leave him here? In this condition? After someone literally just tried to gain access to this floor?

"Not happening," I say firmly.

Lucas folds his arms.

"He won’t be unprotected."

I laug a Humorless laugh:

"Someone literally got past security ten minutes ago."

"That won’t happen again."

"How do you know?" I shoot back instantly. "Because from where I’m standing, every time we think things are under control, somebody ends up bleeding!"

The room falls quiet after that , because nobody can argue with it.

Lucas’ jaw tightens slightly.

"I have men outside this room already."

"And someone inside the hospital still managed to get up here."

My chest feels tight all over again. God. I’m tired, so tired. But the thought of leaving Zane alone right now makes panic rise so violently inside me I can barely breathe through it.

I glance toward the door unconsciously, lkie I expect someone else to walk through it any second, with another person I love dying in front of me.

No. I can’t do that again.

"I’m staying," I say more quietly this time. "End of discussion."

Lucas looks like he wants to argue more but Zane speaks first.

"She stays."

His voice is rough and weak from surgery, but there’s still enough authority in it to cut through the room immediately.

Lucas looks at him.

"You’re both targets right now."

"And she’s safer with me than separated from me."

I look at Zane quickly, something warm and painful twists in my chest at the words.

Lucas exhales sharply.

"You’re impossible."

"Runs in the family," Zane mutters.

That almost earns a tiny smile from me, Lucas notices anyway and his expression softens slightly.

"You both look like shit by the way."

"Thank you," I deadpan automatically.

Zane lets out the faintest huff beside me before immediately regretting it as pain flashes across his face.

I turn toward him instantly.

"See? That’s your punishment for laughing."

"I wasn’t laughing."

"You were."

"I was breathing aggressively."

"Alright," he says finally. "You can stay tonight."

Relief immediately loosens something tight inside me.

"But," he adds firmly, "I’m doubling security on this entire floor. Nobody gets in without clearance directly from me or Noah."

I nod quickly.

"Fine."

"And if anything feels off, you call immediately."

"Lucas," I say dryly. "I literally fought two armed men tonight. I think I understand danger."

"That’s exactly why I’m worried."

That shuts me up bcause underneath the frustration in his voice...He sounds scared and I suddenly remember the phone call earlier. My voice shaking while I begged for help. The thought must hit Lucas too because his expression changes slightly and he walks closer and rests a hand briefly on my head like he used to when we were younger.

"You scared the hell out of me tonight," he says quietly.

My throat tightens immediately.

"I know."

Lucas’ hand stills slightly against my hai, for a second his composure cracks. Just a little.

"I drove like a fucking madman getting there," he admits quietly. "I genuinely thought I was about to walk into that house and find...."

He cuts himself off sharply bt he doesn’t need to finish.i already know, emotion clogs my throat immediately.

Lucas pulls me gently into a hug before I can completely spiral again.

"You’re okay," he murmurs quietly. "You’re here."

I close my eyes briefly.

"Barely."

His grip tightens for half a second before he pulls back. Then he looks toward Zane lying in bed.

"You too," he says pointedly.

Zane gives him a tired look.

"Unfortunately."

Lucas snorts softly despite himself. Then his face hardens again as his eyes flick toward the door.

"I’ll be outside handling security," he says. "Try to get some rest if either of you still remembers how."

"Doubtful," I mutter.

"Fair."

He leaves after that and the room grows quiet again almost immediately as I I slowly settle back beside Zane carefully, trying not to jostle his injuries. His eyes are already half closed now, exhaustion and the drugs his on finally winning. But when I lie beside him again, his hand automatically reaches for mine beneath the blanket, almost like instinct.

I lace our fingers together tightly and for the first time all night...Neither of us lets go

———

Morning comes slowly. I don’t even realize I fell asleep until I wake up tangled awkwardly beside Zane in the hospital bed, my cheek pressed against his shoulder while one of his arms rests heavily around my waist, for one blissfully disoriented second, I forget everything. Then the smell of antiseptic hits me, the machines beside the bed beep softly and reality comes rushing back.

My eyes lift immediately to Zan to see He’s already awake, watching me.

"You drool in your sleep," he murmurs hoarsely.

I blink at him. Then immediately narrow my eyes.

"You literally got shot and you wake up choosing violence."

A faint grin tugs at his mouth.

"There’s my girl."

His voice still sounds weak, rough around the edges, but better than yesterday.

Thank God.

A doctor comes in not long after with two nurses following behind him. He starts checking Zane over while asking questions.

"How’s the pain level?"

"I’ve had worse."

The doctor gives him a look.

"That wasn’t the question.

Zane sighs dramatically like this entire thing is inconveniencing him personally.

"It hurts."

The doctor checks his chart for a while before finally nodding slowly.

"Well, medically speaking, I’d prefer you stay another few days."

"No."

I already know that tone. The doctor apparently does too because he pinches the bridge of his nose tiredly.

"Mr. Whitmore...."

"The hospital is making me antsy."

"You were shot."

"I noticed."

I roll my eyes while the doctor stares at him in visible irritation.

"You’re at risk of reopening the wound if you move around too much," the doctor warns. "You need rest and very very minimal stress."

"Then all the more reason for me to leave this place."

Honestly, I shouldn’t be surprised anymore.

After another ten minutes of arguing that mostly consists of Zane being impossible, the doctor finally gives up with the exhausted expression of a man who knows he’s lost the battle.

"Fine," he mutters. "But only because your security situation here is becoming a concern."

He points directly at Zane afterward.

"You rest. No unnecessary movement, no stress, no alcoho, no heavy meals.... He looks between both of us. "And no vigorous activity."

Then his eyes flick toward me as my face burn.

"And you," he says firmly. "Make sure he actually listens."

I laugh softly.

"That might be harder than surgery."

The doctor snorts before leaving and by afternoon, we’re heading home ir more accurately, leading a small military operation home cause the security around us is insane now.

Black vehicles, armed guards annd men stationed before we even step inside the estate...Everything feels tense and different

The house itself feels strange too when we walk in, Margaret’s absence lingers everywhere in the silence, in the fact that nobody greets us at the door anymore.

My chest tightens painfully for a second, but I push it down before grief can swallow me again. Right now, Zane needs me functional.

The second we get upstairs, I point toward the bed.

"You. Lie down."

He gives me a look.

"I can walk."

"You can barely glare properly right now. Get in bed."

"You’re getting bossier."

"And you’re getting shot too often."

That actually earns a quiet laugh from him before he winces immediately afterward.

"See?" I say smugly. "Bed."

Muttering under his breath, he finally listens and lowers himself carefully onto the mattress. I watch him closely the entire time.

Even now, seeing him move too quickly makes panic spike inside me.

"You hungry?" I ask quietly once he settles back.

"A little."

"The doctor said nothing heavy."

"Tragic."

I smile faintly despite myself.

"I’ll make soup."

He raises one brow slowly.

"You cook?"

"Rude."

"I’m asking for my own safety

I point threateningly at him

"Keep talking and I’ll poison you."

"Worth the risk.

Shaking my head, I leave him upstairs and head toward the kitchen. It feels strange being in here without Margaret:

I pause for a second after walking in, my chest tightening again at the memories sitting in every corner of this place, then I force myself to keep moving. Because if I stop too long, I’ll cry again.

And honestly? I don’t think I have the energy left for that today...

So instead I make soup.