Chapter 37
Chapter Thirty-Seven
L ilia awoke in a white, sterile room, the beeping of a heart monitor the first sound that registered in her mind. The air smelled like antiseptic and something metallic. Her eyes fluttered open, her vision blurred and hazy, the bright lights overhead making her squint.
She blinked slowly, her mind struggling to catch up with her body. Her limbs felt heavy, weighed down by a bone-deep exhaustion. Her throat was dry, and when she tried to swallow, it felt like she was choking on sand. There was a dull ache that throbbed throughout her body, and it took her a few moments to realize she was in a hospital bed.
For a brief second, she couldn’t remember how she got here. But then it all came crashing back—Jameson, his hands on her, his confession, the sickening sound of his voice whispering in her ear. She tried to sit up, but pain shot through her chest and her head pounded, forcing her back down.
A sharp intake of breath caught in her throat. She was alive. Somehow, she survived.
“You’re awake.”
The voice was familiar but distant, like it was coming from the end of a long tunnel. Lilia turned her head, her vision still swimming as she tried to focus on the figure standing by her bed.
It was Augustus. His usually cool expression was now twisted with concern, his hair disheveled like he hadn’t slept in days. His eyes were red-rimmed, as if he had been crying.
She wanted to ask him what happened—how she ended up here—but all that came out was a croak, her voice weak and raspy.
“Hey, take it easy,” Augustus said, pulling a chair closer to her bed and sitting down. He reached for the small cup of water on the bedside table and held it out to her. “Here, drink.”
She took the cup with trembling hands, managing a few sips before sinking back into the pillows. Her throat burned, but the cool water soothed her enough to try speaking again.
“How long?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
“Three days,” Augustus replied softly, his gaze flickering to her face, then away, like he was afraid to look her in the eye. “You’ve been out for three days, Lilia. We thought—God I thought . . . ” His voice trailed off, and he swallowed hard, as though the thought of finishing that sentence was too painful. “I almost lost you, baby.”
Lilia squeezed her eyes shut, the weight of everything crashing down on her. Three days. The sirens—the ones she heard just before passing out—they must have reached her just in time. She had been so close to losing everything. Her entire body trembled with the memory of Jameson’s touch, his voice, his madness.
She could still hear his words echoing in her mind. The way he talked about Willow—the way he talked about her—sent a chill down her spine. Her stomach twisted in knots, a wave of nausea rising in her throat.
“Jameson . . . ” she rasped, forcing her eyes open again, even though her lids felt so heavy. “Where is he?”
Augustus’ jaw clenched, and his expression darkened. “Jail.”
Lilia stared at him, her mind spinning.
“He tried to run when the police showed up,” Augustus said, his voice tight with emotion. “They caught him near the train station—he pulled a gun. They shot him in the shoulder.”
Relief flooded through her, but it was quickly followed by a profound sense of sorrow. It was over—Jameson was in jail—but nothing felt right. There was no sense of justice or victory, only emptiness. Willow was still dead. McCall was gone. And all the questions that had haunted her, the things that didn’t make sense, still hung in the air, unresolved.
She closed her eyes again, her breath hitching in her throat. She wanted to cry but found herself too exhausted even for that. The weight of everything was too much. Every moment from the past few months piled on top of her, suffocating her. She had no energy left to fight it.
“Lilia,” Augustus said softly, his hand reaching for hers. “We’re safe now. He can’t hurt you anymore.”
His words felt hollow, even though he meant them. The physical threat might be over, but the scars—those would last. Lilia wasn’t sure she would ever feel safe again.
“Where’s Delilah? Eleanor? Sebastian?” she asked, her voice still weak but a bit steadier now.
“They’re okay,” Augustus reassured her. “They’ve been here, waiting. We all have. They just stepped out for some food.”
Lilia nodded slowly, the weight of her exhaustion dragging her down again. She wanted to see them, to hear their voices and feel their presence. But right now, she could barely keep her eyes open.
“Sleep,” Augustus urged, his hand still wrapped around hers. “We’ll be here when you wake up.”
She wanted to protest, to ask more questions, to understand everything that had happened while she had been unconscious. But her body had other plans, and before she knew it, the darkness was pulling her under once again.
As she drifted off, the last thing she heard was the soft hum of the machines beside her bed, and the warmth of Augustus’ hand, anchoring her to this world even as her mind slipped away into oblivion.