Chapter 35
KATIE
I gasp awake, the air sharp and cold in my throat as my eyes flutter open for barely a heartbeat before everything slips back into darkness.
My head lolls uselessly to the side, and my hand feels soaked, the limb heavy, numb. I try to lift it, but I can’t even twitch a finger. Pain tears through me in waves, surging and retreating like tides I have no control over, and every time it crashes, it drags me under again.
Losing consciousness.
Regaining it.
Losing it again.
Over and over for what seems like forever.
Then the sound of sirens pierces through my fog.
The car screeches to a stop, and my body screams in protest as the abrupt halt jolts me. Doors slam, and a gust of cool air brushes over my clammy skin. Something shifts beside me—like someone leaning over—then my door yanks open with a force that sends fresh agony rattling through me.
Kayla gasps. The panic threaded through her voice drags my eyes open, and I strain to turn my head. I have to see what scared her.
My heart stutters—then soars.
Roan.
His chest is heaving like he's been running straight through hell to get here. His hair is a disheveled mess, his eyes wild and dark with what looks like—fear.
No. This has to be a hallucination. He can’t be here. He’s supposed to be with Fabian, confronting the man who tried to destroy his family. There’s no possible way he can be in two places at once. They say your life flashes before your eyes when you’re dying. This must be what they mean.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Dhimiter murmurs somewhere nearby, his voice tired and grim.
Roan doesn’t answer. He just leans in and lifts me out of the car like I weigh nothing. Pain explodes through my side and I gasp, clutching his shirt. That alone snaps something loose in my head.
How can I be feeling pain if I’m hallucinating?
“Are—are you real?” I whisper.
“Shh, don’t talk. You’re going to be okay.” His voice cracks on the last word, and his chest heaves against mine as he lengthens his stride. On either side of him, Dhimiter and Kayla keep pace, both looking worried as hell.
Dhimiter rushes ahead to wrench open a door, and Roan’s voice tears through the sterile hallway. “I need a doctor! I need a fucking doctor right now!”
“Shh… don’t yell,” I whisper, smiling up at him. But then it turns into a wince, because even that small movement hurts. Everything hurts so much.
People in scrubs swarm us, pulling me from Roan’s arms and settling me onto a gurney, my back hitting the thin mattress.
Then I’m moving—being wheeled away—the harsh fluorescent lights above spinning so wildly I have to squeeze my eyes shut against the dizzying motion.
Fingers slide into mine, gripping tight, and when I force my eyes back open, Roan is there, jogging alongside the gurney, watching me with the most strained, anguished expression I’ve ever seen on his face.
“Am I dying?” I ask quietly, not sure I even want to know the answer.
His grip tightens, almost punishing, like he would keep me tethered to life through sheer force of will alone.
“Not on my watch, you’re not,” he answers fiercely, and as if to emphasize his point, he turns to one of the doctors frantically working to stabilize me and threatens, “If she dies, so do you—and everybody you love.”
The doctor’s face goes white, and Kayla gasps somewhere behind him. Dhimiter mutters what sounds like a curse, but I can’t make out the exact words through the ringing in my ears.
“If… if I die,” I start, struggling to focus beyond the pain trying to drag me under. “Promise me you’ll take care of my sister. Please.”
Roan’s grip tightens even more, his eyes glinting through the tears that slowly spill down his normally stoic face. “You’re not going to die, goddamnit.”
I blink at him, surprised by the raw panic in his voice, and then I manage a faint smile. “You do care about me,” I say softly, the words more of a realization than a question.
“You’re my entire world,” he grits out, voice cracking. “If anything happens to you, my world will go dark. I can’t lose you, love. I can’t. Do you understand me? I can’t.”
My lips part in shock as I watch the man I love unravel in front of me, my chest hurting for entirely different reasons now. But before I can find words—before I can tell him what I desperately need to say—we reach a set of double doors and several nurses step forward with upheld hands to stop him.
“You can’t come into the operating room with us, sir.”
Roan stumbles back a step, then another, his face collapsing into absolute helplessness as he watches me being taken away from him. His shirt is soaked red from when he carried me, and his hands are shaking. My fingers curl weakly, my eyes stinging as our gazes lock across the growing distance.
He didn’t even cry when his father died, but now the tears run silently down his cheeks.
“I love you,” I whisper urgently as the doors begin to swing shut between us. I’m not sure he heard me—the words were so quiet—but just before the doors close completely, his lips move in response, forming words I can’t catch, yet somehow still feel.
I’m wheeled deeper into the sterile room, and as I’m transferred from the gurney to the surgical table, someone yells for anesthesia. As the drug kicks in, my system shuts down and the world goes black again.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
The steady, rhythmic beeping of a monitor somewhere to my left is the first thing I become aware of. The low mechanical sound wraps itself around the fog still clouding my head and gradually drags me back to consciousness.
My body feels impossibly heavy on the soft bed, like I’ve been hit by a truck and dragged for miles. Every single inch of me aches—my chest, my arm, my throat, even my face. I groan as I try to open my eyes.
The curtains are drawn across the window, hiding whether it’s day or night—hours or days later—but the overhead lights are painfully bright. White walls reflect the glare, making me squint and turn my head slightly, my eyes burning under the assault.
I try to move and feel a tug in my arm. An IV. My gaze follows the line—and my heart squeezes.
Roan.
He’s slumped in a chair next to the bed, his head resting near my hand, fast asleep.
His clothes are still stained with blood, his hair a messy tangle, like he’s been running his hands through it for hours.
I lift my other arm to reach for him, to confirm he’s real, but the movement sends a sharp jolt through my side and a groan slips out.
“You’re awake!” Kayla exclaims from my other side, and I slowly turn my head. She’s sitting in another chair, her eyes wide and shining with relief. My heart softens impossibly more. My sister. Finally safe.
“Shh,” I murmur, my voice hoarse. “You’re going to wake him.”
But it’s too late.
Roan stirs beside me, his head snapping up from the bed instantly, eyes alert like he’s been half-awake the whole time, waiting for this moment. His sharp gaze scans my face, then my body, like he has to physically verify I’m really awake and alive.
“How do you feel?” he asks, his voice thick with emotion.
I offer him a small smile despite the pain. “Like I’ve been run over by a truck.”
He exhales shakily—like he’s been holding that breath for hours—and gets to his feet, his hand gentle as it brushes through my hair. “I’m glad you’re awake.”
“Me too,” I murmur, my gaze searching his, remembering his devastated expression just before I was wheeled into surgery. “You don’t look too good.”
He runs a hand through his messy hair, nodding distractedly. “Hold on, let me get your doctor.” Then he’s walking out the door in quick, purposeful strides before I can protest.
“Wow, that guy is really something else.” Kayla’s mild comment makes me turn my head towards her. She’s still watching the door with something like amazement written across her face.
I smile faintly. “You okay?”
“Thanks to you.” She leans closer and holds my hand gently. “You should be more worried about him. In the last twenty-four hours, he’s threatened to kill your doctor at least six times. I know because I counted.”
I laugh, but it cuts off as pain flares through my side, forcing a wince. “I think I remember one of those,” I manage to grit out.
Kayla’s lips curve into a small smile. “I’m glad you have people who love you this much around you. I'm a little envious, honestly. But I’m still glad.”
I swallow hard against the sudden lump in my throat and turn my hand over in hers, lacing our fingers together to squeeze her hand. “I hope you know how much I love you, Kayla. I’d do absolutely anything for you. Always have.”
“I know,” she murmurs, squeezing back. “I know.”
The door opens again, and Roan comes back in, followed by a doctor who looks like he’s just swallowed something sour. The man keeps flicking glances at Roan as he approaches my bed, like he expects a gun to materialize at any second. But when our gazes meet, his face lights up.
“I’m so glad to see you awake, Mrs. Permeti,” the doctor says with real feeling. “My family and I get to keep our lives now.”
A soft chuckle escapes me, though it catches a little at being referred to as Mrs. Permeti. “So sorry about that, doc,” I murmur, glancing over at Roan—who looks completely unrepentant about his threats.
The doctor gives me a halfhearted smile and checks my vitals, muttering to himself. He relaxes noticeably once it’s clear I’m not going to flatline right in front of him, then makes a quick exit.
The door bursts open almost immediately after, and Emily comes flying into the room like a whirlwind, her hair wild, and her eyes even wilder. “Oh my God, Katie!” She rushes to my bedside. “I can’t believe I almost lost you again!”
She wraps her arms around me in an enthusiastic hug that makes me gasp in pain, then she pulls back at once. “Oh no—I’m so sorry. Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”
I stare at her, stunned, my brain still struggling to catch up. A thousand thoughts crowd my head, but what comes out is, “I thought you were mad at me, Em.”
She rolls her eyes dramatically. “Of course I was mad at you! You ran away and wouldn’t let me find you. I was seriously worried about you.” She sighs heavily. “And then I finally did find you, but you wouldn’t agree to meet me.”
She gives me that half-exasperated, half-affectionate look I haven’t seen in forever, and my chest swells with emotion. “Wait—you actually wanted to meet me?” I ask, my voice a little smaller than before.
She whirls around to glare accusingly at Roan. “You didn’t tell her I wanted to see her?”
He just shrugs with that same unrepentant expression.
Emily’s lips thin dangerously, but she doesn’t rip into him like she obviously wants to. “I’m just so glad you’re okay,” she says, turning back to me, squeezing my hand gently. “We have a lot to catch up on, don’t we, Mrs. Permeti?”
I chuckle, my heart somehow lighter and fuller all at once. “We’re not married. I don’t know why Roan gave them his last name.”
Roan smirks, stepping closer to the bed. “Yet,” he corrects, his voice quiet but certain. “We’re not married yet, but I’ll rectify that very soon.”
I glance up at him, heart close to bursting. God, I love him so much. And even though he hasn’t said those exact words out loud, I know he feels the same way about me.
For the first time in ages, I let myself believe in something. I let myself believe in us.
Regardless of how it all started, I’m now his world, and I intend to keep it alive and bright for a long, long time.