Chapter 25
XXV
EDEN
Iwake up slowly.
Everything feels distant—muted. Like I’m seeing the world through a thin veil of smoke. It reminds me of the derealization I felt after my first real panic attack.
The ceiling above me is unfamiliar. Pale white. Sterile. The kind of white that isn’t just clean, but purposefully clean. White that has been scrubbed and bleached and scoured of dirt.
A low hum from the fluorescent lights buzzes overhead, steady and constant. Somewhere to my right, I hear the steady beeping of a monitor. The quiet, mechanical rhythm of my own heartbeat, made visible and echoing into the room. Something cold tugs at my wrist—an IV.
The scent of antiseptic clings to the air like a second skin.
This is what a hospital smells like. I’m in a hospital. Not the dusty, century-old room with drafty windows and cold sheets in Augustine’s Infirmary.
This place is quiet and clean.
It’s safe.
Safe from him.
A flashback hits me like a freight train and I grimace, trying to put the thoughts out of my head. I killed Silas, but he was trying to kill me. That makes it okay, right?
It should.
He admitted to killing Vivienne, too.
I force myself back to the present, refusing to let my mind fall back into the terrible space. A soft warmth coats my skin beneath the sterile chill. The blankets are just thin enough to remind me I’m alive.
I blink slowly, my eyelids heavy like they’ve been stitched shut for days. The lights are dimmed, thank god, but the room is still sharp enough to make my head ache.
My body feels slow and numb in place. One of my arms is in a cast. Every one of my limbs is draped in exhaustion. Yet I don’t feel sick in the same way I felt before. No, this sickness feels like something I can recover from, like something I can survive.
I shift—just slightly, and even that makes my ribs complain—and that’s when I see him.
Lucian.
Slumped in the chair beside me.
His body’s curled in on itself in a way that doesn’t suit him, like someone forced him to fold into a box too small.
His long legs are awkwardly bent beneath him, one foot twisted beneath the other.
Lucian’s laid back posture is gone, instead his spine is curved, shoulders slouched.
His head tilts forward slightly, like it got too heavy somewhere in the night.
A few dark strands of hair have fallen over his forehead.
His clothes are stained with blood.
My blood.
My breath catches.
How long have I been out? I remember falling into Lucian’s arms, but I thought it was a dream, the kind of thing you see when you’re about to die. But it wasn’t. It was all real. He came for me, and that’s why I’m here.
Lucian looks like he’s been here for days.
One hand dangles loosely at his side. The other rests on the edge of my bed, fingers curled just inches from mine, like he’d meant to take my hand but wasn’t sure if he should.
I don’t know, but I know he’s here with me—that he’s been here with me.
And the moment I move—the moment I breathe differently and the monitor makes a different kind of sound—his eyes snap open. They’re bleary and bloodshot, tired in a way that I recognize but can’t quite verbalize.
For one terrifying second, he looks disoriented, panicked. His eyes shoot to mine, but eventually he sees me, really sees me. That’s when I see the panic turn into something else.
Relief.
He sits up fast, scraping the chair back with a sound too loud for the quiet room.
“Eden,” he says, voice raw.
He leans forward immediately, his fingers gripping mine like he’s afraid to squeeze too hard. His other hand cups my cheek with a reverence that makes my throat tighten.
I can’t help it.
The tears come before I can stop them. They’re silent and hot, streaming down my cheeks like they’ve been waiting behind my eyes for days.
Lucian goes pale.
Panic flickers in his expression, and then he’s crying too.
No theatrics. No dramatics. Just wet eyes, a trembling lip, and a boy who’s never let himself feel anything that might ruin him—finally letting himself break. He presses his forehead to mine, his hand still cupping my face like I’m the last thing in the world worth holding.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
My voice is barely there. It feels like I haven’t spoken in weeks.
He shakes his head fiercely. “No. Don’t you apologize. Please. You have nothing to be sorry for. Nothing.”
“I left without you,” I breathe. “I should have waited. I thought it would be fine.”
“I should’ve stopped you. I should’ve followed. I should’ve known. I should’ve known, Eden.” His voice cracks on my name.
“I didn’t think I’d see you again,” I whisper.
“You shouldn’t have,” he says, guiltily “You shouldn’t have made it. The doctors said you had lost so much blood that it was a long shot.”
I can feel it now that he mentions it.
The dull ache in my ribs. The sting of stitches. My arm bound in gauze, my side taped over. I feel broken and bruised—fragile.
“You got there,” I whisper. “You found me.”
“You smiled at me before you passed out,” he says, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “Like you were saying goodbye.”
“I was.”
The silence swells again.
Then he breathes in sharply.
“I love you.”
The words land between us like thunder.
“I love you,” he says again, stronger now. “I know I’ve hurt you. I know I’ve—God, Eden, I’ve done everything wrong. But I’ve never stopped loving you.”
My chest aches.
“I love you too,” I say. “Even when I hated you. Even when I didn’t want to. Even when I thought you’d never forgive me for choosing him.”
He closes his eyes, exhaling like it hurts.
“I should’ve stopped you before it got that far.”
“I should’ve believed you,” I whisper. “About Silas. About everything.” I look down at my fingers. “He killed Vivienne. He convinced Anastazya to push her out of the window.”
Lucian doesn’t seem the least bit surprised. “That’s why I found her dead in your dorm room. He probably wanted to keep her quiet now that she’d done his dirty work.”
My jaw slackens, but I don’t feel surprised either. It says something about how messed up this whole situation is. Silas killed two people.
I would’ve been the third.
Lucian takes my hand completely in his. He holds my hand palm-to-palm, lacing our fingers together. His thumb brushes the inside of my wrist like he’s memorizing the rhythm of my pulse.
“I’m not letting you go again,” he says quietly. “I don’t care what they say, or even what you say. I am never letting you out of my sight ever again. You’re mine.”
“You don’t have to do all that,” I say, tears falling again. “I can figure things out on my own.” But my words feel hollow to my own ears. I’ve been fighting for so long, longer than I realized. Maybe I do need rest…
He presses his lips to the back of my hand.
“You’re mine, Eden,” he says. “I always protect and care for what’s mine. I’m not telling you all this for you to feel like you owe me a relationship. I’m telling you all this so you know you’ll never be in danger again. I’ll make sure you’re safe, forever.”
And I believe him.
For the first time, I really believe him.
“You don’t have to promise me forever,” I murmur, voice cracking. “I don’t even know if I believe in it anymore.”
Lucian lifts his gaze to mine.
His eyes are storm-colored, soft in a way that makes my heart ache.
“Then don’t,” he says. “Don’t believe in forever. Let’s believe in what we have right now.”
His thumb brushes another tear from my cheek.