Willow treated Cas’s wounds last night when we returned to the penthouse.
Three fingers on his right hand—his dominant shooting hand—were broken and needed splinting. If his nerves were permanently damaged, which they likely were, he’d probably never again have the same level of strength and accuracy.
His shoulder had been dislocated, but she set it and gave him a sling.
Two ribs were broken, so she wrapped his chest, and we were on strict orders to ice all the bruising frequently.
He had a patellar injury that looked serious, but Willow couldn’t diagnose it without an x-ray, so all she did for now was put his leg in a brace and command me to keep him off it.
He also had a concussion, but Willow didn’t think he needed anything greater than monitoring and pain management.
Then there was the split lip, a gash on the side of his head, and countless cuts that needed antibacterial cream and frequent bandaging.
Willow had put him on a strong dose of antibiotics just in case, along with some serious painkillers, and told me that what he needed now was six to eight weeks of solid rest, and it was time for him to sleep.
All in all, he was so goddamn lucky to be alive.
Iwas so goddamn lucky he was alright.
Before she left, Willow stitched up the cuts on my arms and covered them in heavy white bandages. They weren’t as deep as everyone first thought, but most of them would probably scar. She’d given me some painkillers, too, but I left them on the nightstand, untouched. I didn’t deserve the medicine when Cas was in such a state. Besides, the pain kept me sharp, and I needed to think. To process.
We’d settled Cas into the guest bedroom I had claimed before I barricaded us both in here and locked the door.
It had been hours now. But I needed time. I needed to make sure he was okay. I needed to figure out what was next because, as of right now, my quest for revenge was pointless.
Why avenge a man like my father?
And if I didn’t need vengeance, what was I doing here—with the Shadows?
Just like Wynn, Ryuji, Fallon, and Cas had warned, I had built up a debt I couldn’t repay. They’d helped me so far on the necklace, but I’d exceeded how much those jewels could pay for. And now I didn’t even have my Vero name to buy credit with them. If I couldn’t rebuild my father’s legacy and take back what Max stole from me, how could I repay them?
I needed to plan, to figure out how to not leave here enemies with the greatest assassins in the world. All I had left wasmaybemy inheritance if Max hadn’t moved the funds by now.
I should have run. With the plane waiting for us on that tarmac, I should have grabbed Cas’s hand, and we should have run away where we could have been safe. I should have taken Fallon’s offer to escape when we had the chance.
But I was way too fucking focused on myrighteousdesire for revenge that I couldn’t see how much I put the only person who cared about me in danger.
Fuck. What was I supposed to do now?
Cas shifted beside me. Slowly, he blinked his eyes open and found me practically plastered against him. “Hey.”
Tears blurred my vision.
“Hi,” I choked, reaching to cup his cheek.
“You okay?” His voice was scratchy, raspy like he’d been screaming for hours and hours. I squeezed my eyes shut to push back the intrusive images.
“Me?” I laughed, wiping a tear from my eye. “You’re the total wreck. I’m fine.”
“I’ve never in mylifebeen a wreck,” he joked with a ghost of a smile. How the hell did he have the energy to joke right now? My bodyguardneverjoked.
“Yeah, okay.” I sniffled and rubbed my nose with the back of my sleeve. Silence stretched as we stared at one another, taking it all in. That we were both alive again. That we were here. More tears pricked the backs of my eyes. There was so much I had to tell him. “I’m so sorry, Cas.”
He tried to sit up but groaned in pain. “No, no, wait—” he said as I tried to settle him back down. “Just help me sit up. I want to see you.”
We adjusted the pillows to support his head, back, and arms against the headboard.
“Cas, I’m?—”
