The van waiting, doors wide. I climbed in with her. No one stopped me.
“Em.” I couldn’t stop. “Eyes open. Look at me.”
She was tired. Every time she closed her eyes, it was half a second too long.
“Breathe. In. Out. Again.”
She obeyed, weak. Still here.
Medics cut words around us—concussion, swelling, stabilize, Sovereign. I didn’t hear them. My hand stayed on her shoulder. Warmth still there.
“You’ll be fine,” I told her, again. For myself. For Luca who was forced to listen on a phone.
Dynasty hospitals had procedures. They cared about marble floors, gold trimmed rooms.
The Sovereign’s treated syndicates, soldiers. No questions. Hospitals we owned and funded. Care that rivalled the Dynasties owned hospitals. Luxury given to those who gave us loyalty. Their families given care they wouldn’t receive otherwise.
The van ride was too long, and a blur in one. When we arrived the Sovereign’s back corridors already open. Staff in scrubs waiting at the back doors.
I walked with her until I hit the invisible line. I couldn’t go further.
“Em,” I said, raw. “I’ll be here when you wake. If you don’t, I’ll tear it down.”
Her eyes opened once more. Met mine.
Please baby, don’t make us follow you and drag you back from God himself.
Then I let her go, and the door closed.
Chapter Sixteen
LUCA
A nurse saying “she’s in recovery” as if that word could hold anything.
I nodded and kept walking.
Bastion was already there. Chair dragged too close to the bed like he dared anyone to tell him to move it. His palm sat on her shin, thumb moving a slow line over the blanket—up, down, repeat. Not thinking about it. Not stopping.
Emilia slept. Color better. The worst of the blood gone from her hairline. An ugly strip of tape above her eye. Oxygen running low and quiet. She looked small under hospital white, and I hated the white for making her look smaller.
“Vitals?” I asked without looking away.
“Good,” the nurse said. “Better than good. She needs rest.”
I took the far side of the bed, the side with her uninjured arm. I slid my fingers around her hand, careful of the IV. Her skin was warm. That helped. Not enough.
I didn’t sit. I stood where I could see the door, the window, Bastion, the monitors, the skyline through the blind. Sovereign’s east wing faced the river; the blackout had hit ithard. Whole blocks across the water were still dead. My grids were clawing their way back.
“Alexander?” Bastion asked.
“Not tonight.” I kept my tone flat. “His car lost a wheel bearing at the tunnel. Then the tunnel had a maintenance incident. Then his backup car developed an electrical fault. By the time they clear it, it’ll be morning.”
Bastion’s mouth twitched. “Pity.”
“I’m devastated.”
We both watched her breathe.
