I hit the floor hard, Evangeline's scream echoing in my ears as chaos erupted completely around us. Through the ringing in my head, I could hear shouting, the sound of security finally taking down Harrison, the distant wail of sirens growing louder.
But all I could focus on was the spreading warmth beneath my ribs and the taste of copper in my mouth.
"James?" Evangeline's voice seemed to come from very far away. "Oh God, there's so much blood?—"
I tried to speak, to tell her I was fine, but darkness was creeping in from the edges of my vision. Around us, the chaos continued—shouts, running feet, the sound of someone screaming for a medic.
Through it all, I caught a glimpse of Mikhail slipping away in the confusion, his expression calm and satisfied even as his operation crumbled around him.
The bastard was escaping.
But Evangeline was safe. Sophia was safe. The Kozlov operation was exposed.
It would have to be enough.
"James, stay with me," Evangeline was saying, her hands pressing against my chest where warmth continued to spread. "Please, just hold on."
But the darkness was winning despite her desperate voice, despite the pressure of her hands, despite every reason I had to fight.
The last thing I saw was her face above me, beautiful and terrified.
The last thing I heard was her calling my name as if love alone could anchor me to life.
And then there was nothing but the question of whether I'd done enough to keep her safe, and whether I'd ever open my eyes again to find out.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Evangeline
The steady beep of the heart monitor had become my metronome, marking time in a world that had narrowed to this sterile room, this bed, this man who lay too still beneath white sheets. Seventy-two hours. Three days since James had thrown himself between me and a bullet, since his blood had pooled on the ballroom floor while I screamed his name.
I shifted in the uncomfortable chair beside his bed, my hand never leaving his. His fingers were warm—that had to be a good sign, didn't it? Warm meant alive. Warm meant fighting.
"The swelling should start going down soon," I whispered, repeating the doctor's words from yesterday like a prayer. "Your body just needs time to heal. You're too stubborn to let a bullet win."
No response. There never was.
The ICU had strict visiting hours, but royal privilege and Marcel’s coordination with hospital security had arranged for extended access. I could stay longer than most visitors, though the medical staff insisted on regular breaks fortheir assessments. Marcel and the security team maintained a discrete presence, rotating shifts to ensure both James's recovery and my safety weren't compromised.
"Do you remember what you told me in Sicily? About your grandfather's farm? You said you wanted to show me the olive groves, teach me to milk the cows." My voice cracked. "I'd like that. When you wake up—not if, when—we'll go there. Just us."
A soft knock interrupted my vigil. The nurse—Sarah, I'd learned her name after three days—peered around the door.
"Your Highness? I'm sorry, but visiting hours are ending for the evening. You really should get some rest."
"I'm not leaving." I didn't look away from James's face. "I can't."
"Princess Evangeline?" Another voice, this one familiar. I turned to see Dr. Harrison—not the traitor Harrison who'd betrayed us, but the neurologist who'd been overseeing James's care. "Could I have a word? Outside?"
Reluctantly, I stood, my legs shaky from hours of sitting. I pressed a kiss to James's forehead, whispering, "I'll be right back," and followed the doctor into the corridor.
The hallway outside the ICU was busier than I'd expected. Spencer stood near the nurses' station, deep in conversation with Rupert and Andrew. Laura sat in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs, her hand resting protectively over her rounded belly—she had to be about five months along now. Veronica paced nearby, looking uncharacteristically subdued.
They all looked up as I emerged, hope and concern warring in their expressions.
"Any change?" Spencer asked immediately.
I shook my head, and Dr. Harrison stepped forward. "The brain swelling is still a concern, but it's not getting worse. His vital signs remain stable," he explained, using terms I'd heardrepeated so often over the past three days that they'd become part of my vocabulary. "These things take time."
