Chapter 29 Sierra
SIERRA
Blood rushes in my ears so loud I can barely hear my own breathing. The second Mom stops the car, I’m already shoving my door open, my feet hitting the pavement before she’s even in park.
“Sierra, wait. I need your help with Harper.”
I force myself to stop. Every cell in my body is screaming at me to run inside, to find Julian, to see with my own eyes that he’s still breathing.
But Mom is right. Harper hasn’t stopped shaking since we got the call, and right now, she looks like she might shatter if anyone breathes on her too hard.
The drive here was a blur of tears and terror. We didn’t get details from the hospital. Just that Julian was hurt and we needed to come.
Matteo’s mom hugged me before we left, promising to pray for Julian. Then we piled into the car and drove like hell, and the whole time my mind kept spinning through worst-case scenarios. I couldn’t stop no matter how hard I tried.
I yank open the back door and reach for Harper. Her mascara is smeared down her cheeks, and when she grabs my arm, her fingers dig in hard enough to leave marks.
“He’s going to be okay,” I reassure her as I guide her toward the entrance. The words taste like a lie, but I push them out anyway. “Whatever happened, Julian’s strong. He’ll pull through.”
Please let him pull through.
Harper sniffles against my shoulder. “I’m so scared.”
“I know.” I tighten my grip on her. “Let’s just get inside.”
We follow Mom to the information desk, then to the elevators. Sarah and Audrey trail behind us, both silent. The elevator feels too small, too slow. When the doors finally open, we spot the nurses’ station and make a beeline there.
“Julian Dixon,” Mom says to the nurse. “He’s my son. Where is he?”
“He’s in surgery, ma’am.”
Harper’s knees buckle. I catch her, barely, my own legs feeling like they might give out too.
“What kind of surgery?” Mom’s voice cracks. “What are his injuries?”
“I’ll have the doctor come speak with you as soon as he’s done operating.”
The sympathy in the nurse’s eyes makes me want to throw up.
We find seats in the waiting area, and I pull out my phone with trembling fingers. The words blur as I type.
Julian was in an accident. He’s in the hospital. Don’t know when I’ll be home.
I hit send and stare at the screen, willing it to light up. Willing Matteo to respond. I don’t let myself think about why that matters so much right now.
My phone buzzes.
Which hospital?
The tightness in my shoulders loosens just a fraction.
Mountain View.
“The doctor’s coming,” Sarah announces.
I shove my phone back in my purse without waiting for his reply and stand up, my heart beating loud in my ears.
The surgeon is wearing blue scrubs and a black bandana over his hair. His expression is carefully neutral, which is somehow worse than if he looked upset. He focuses on Harper when she introduces herself.
“Your husband has several injuries,” he says. “From what we understand, he was struck by a vehicle. The impact threw him onto the hood before he fell to the pavement. He has a fractured femur, three broken ribs, and multiple contusions.”
Harper’s hand finds Mom’s, knuckles white. “He’s going to be okay, right?”
“The most concerning injury is to his head,” the doctor continues. “He was unconscious on arrival with a moderate skull fracture. We’ve operated to elevate the bone and reduce pressure on the brain, but we won’t know if there’s lasting damage until he wakes up.”
Brain damage?
Julian. My big brother who’s never missed a single one of my birthdays. Who still calls me “kid” even though I’m twenty-four.
I can’t breathe.
“When will he wake up?” Harper’s voice is barely more than a whisper.
The doctor’s face softens with sympathy. “I can’t give you a timeline. We’ve set his leg and he’s being moved to recovery. Now, it’s a waiting game.”
He walks away, and the silence that follows is suffocating.
“What the hell happened?” Audrey demands. “Someone just hit him? Who would do that?”
“I can answer those questions.”
We all turn. A man in a brown jacket stands behind us, a woman with suspicious eyes at his side.
“I’m Detective Carver. I’m sorry about your loved one, but I need to speak with you about the hit-and-run.”
“Hit-and-run?” My voice comes out too loud. “The person who did this didn’t stop?”
“Correct. And I’m saying he was hit on purpose.”
The air goes out of the room. I grip the back of the nearest chair to keep from swaying.
“No.” Mom shakes her head. “That can’t be right. Julian is a good man. Why would anyone want to hurt him?”
“We have footage from the parking lot of your family’s shipping company, where the incident took place. I need you to watch it. The driver is clearly visible, and I need to know if any of you recognize him.”
Harper makes a small, wounded sound. “It’s a video of the accident?”
“I’m afraid so.”
We follow the detectives into a small, private room. The kind of room where doctors deliver the worst news. The kind of room I hope I never see again after today.
The female detective pulls out a tablet and hands it to Mom. We crowd around her, and she presses play.
The video shows the shipping company’s parking lot. Julian is walking toward his new sports car, the one he bought two days ago. He’s only halfway across the lot when a car pulls in, going way too fast.
I know that car.
My blood turns to ice.
Julian turns toward the sound, but the car is already bearing down on him, accelerating in a way that leaves no doubt about the driver’s intentions. This isn’t an accident. This is an attack.
The impact is brutal. Julian flies onto the hood, hangs there for a sickening moment, then tumbles off to the side. He lands in a heap on the concrete, motionless, and the car speeds out of the lot without slowing.
As it passes the camera, the detective reaches over and pauses the video.
Viktor’s face fills the screen.
He’s grinning. Actually grinning, like he just won something, like destroying my brother was a game and he finally scored a point.
Harper gasps. Mom makes a strangled sound.
I think I might be sick.
“Does anyone recognize this man?” Detective Carver asks.
No one speaks. But I feel my family’s eyes shift to me, one by one, and the detective notices.
“Miss?”
“I...” My voice comes out hoarse. I have to swallow twice before I can continue. “Yes. I know him. His name is Viktor Ilyin. He’s my ex-boyfriend.”
And stalker. And abuser. And apparently, would-be murderer.
“Do you have any idea why he’d do this?”
I stare at the tablet, at Viktor’s triumphant expression frozen on the screen. He knew exactly how to hurt me. He knew going after my family would destroy me in a way that coming after me directly never could.
“He’s been harassing me,” I say. “Since I broke up with him. He’s shown up at my job. My apartment. Last week, he broke into my place and tried to shoot me. There should be a police report.”
“What?” Mom’s voice cracks like a whip. “He tried to shoot you?”
I can’t look at her. I can’t look at any of them.
“I’m sorry. I thought I could handle it. I never thought he’d go after you. He never threatened that. He only came after me.” The words tumble out, desperate and inadequate. “I didn’t know. I swear I didn’t know.”
My eyes find Harper’s face, and the devastation I see there makes me flinch.
Detective Carver holds out a card to me. “If you remember anything else that might be helpful, please get in touch.” He glances at the rest of my family. “We’ll look into this and keep you posted.”
The detectives go. The silence they leave behind is suffocating.
I lower my head as the tears start to fall.
A hand touches my back, and I jolt before realizing it’s Mom. She opens her mouth, closes it. Her chin trembles. For a terrible second, I think she’s going to walk away.
Then she pulls me into her arms.
“Don’t you blame yourself for this. Viktor is obviously unstable, and you never would have dated him if you’d known what he was. As for keeping secrets...” She pauses. “I’m not happy about that. But I’ll let Julian kick your butt for it when he wakes up.”
A sob tears out of me, and she just holds me, rubbing my back, letting me fall apart. I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve any of this kindness when my choices put Julian in a hospital bed.
It takes me a few minutes to pull myself together. When I finally lift my head, I realize we’re alone.
“Does Harper hate me?”
“Of course not, Sweetie.” Mom brushes the tears from my cheeks. “She’s devastated and scared, but none of us blame you for what someone else chose to do. You can’t blame yourself, either.”
“Maybe if I’d told you about Viktor being dangerous...”
“Would Julian have been able to outrun a car?”
I flinch.
“I don’t want to hear another word about guilt,” Mom says firmly. “Be glad your brother is alive, and have faith that he’ll pull through. He’s strong. Always has been.”
We walk back to the waiting room. Harper is standing by the window, arms crossed, her reflection ghostlike in the glass. She doesn’t turn when we come in.
I’ll talk to her later. Give her time.
I look to my left and stop short.
Matteo is there.
He’s standing near the entrance, looking completely out of place in his dark clothes among the sterile white surroundings. His eyes find mine immediately, and the relief that floods through me is almost embarrassing. He came. He actually came.
I go straight to him without thinking. His arms wrap around me, solid and warm, and I sink into him like he’s the only thing keeping me upright. Maybe he is.
“You’ve been crying,” he says quietly.
He doesn’t ask if I’m okay or other pointless questions. He just holds me, and it’s exactly what I need.
“Thank you for coming,” I whisper.
I pull back just enough to look up at him, staying wrapped in his arms because I’m not ready to let go yet. I lower my voice so my family can’t hear.
“Julian was hit by a car. The police showed us a video. Viktor did this.”
His arms tighten around me. His eyes go dark with something dangerous, and for once, I’m not afraid of it. I want it. I want someone to make Viktor pay for what he’s done.
“Son of a bitch.”
“He was smiling in the video. He ran over my brother and he was smiling.”
Matteo’s hand comes up to cup the back of my head, his thumb stroking along my hairline. It’s such a gentle gesture from such a dangerous man, and I press closer, needing the anchor.
“I’ll make him pay for this.” His voice is resolute, barely-contained rage. “For everything he’s done to you. I promise.”
Maybe I should feel guilty about how much comfort I take from that. But I watched Viktor fucking grin after running down my brother. Guilt is the last thing I feel.
We sit down in the waiting room, and I rest my head on his shoulder. His hand finds mine, his fingers threading through my own.
He came. He dropped whatever he was doing and he came because I needed him.
My eyes drift closed. His shoulder rises and falls beneath my cheek, steady as a metronome, and I match my breathing to his without meaning to. His thumb brushes back and forth across my knuckles like he’s not even aware he’s doing it.
Every time he shows up for me like this, every time he proves that I can count on him, I feel another piece of myself slip away from me and into his hands.
If he keeps this up, he’s going to have all of me.
And I’m starting to think that might not be a bad thing.