42. Valaria
Valaria
Iwake to the hiss of machines and the sting of antiseptic.
The light above me is soft but clinical, filtered through frosted panels. I try to sit up, but my body protests—I look down. A bullet hole bandaged, several silver-coated sheets covering skin that still burns. My voice comes out dry as paper. “Water.”
A nurse appears at my side before I can blink. Young. Kind eyes. She lifts a straw to my lips. The first sip burns, then soothes. I take another.
Then it hits me.
“Pietro,” I croak. “Where is he?”
The nurse hesitates. That’s not the answer I need.
“Tell me.”
Her voice is gentle. Too gentle. “He’s in critical care. He lost a lot of blood.” Her voice trails off, not wanting to finish.
My heart drops like a stone.
My voice cracks. “He’s alive.”
“Yes,” she says. “He had surgery a few hours ago. But he’s not awake yet.”
I grip the rail of the hospital bed, using it to drag myself upright. My body screams in protest. My legs buckle when I try to stand, and the nurse rushes forward.
“No, no—ma’am, you’re not strong enough?—”
“I don’t care,” I snap. My voice is stronger than I feel, but I ride the wave of adrenaline. “Take me to him. Now.”
She falters. “They won’t let you in. He’s in the ICU.”
“Get someone who will.”
The nurse stares at me for a long moment, then nods. “I’ll see what I can do.”
She leaves, and I count the seconds until she returns. I’m already out of the bed, one arm dragging along the IV pole, the other pressed to my ribs. My hospital gown is too thin, my feet too cold, but none of it matters.
Because he’s here. He made it. He got me out.
And now I have to get to him.
Another nurse appears pushing a wheelchair—older this time, stern but efficient. “You can see him,” she says. “But just for a minute. He’s sedated.”
The nurse pushes me down a maze of hallways. Finally, the letters ICU above the double doors.
The nurse flips her access key over the sensor. The doors open. Cold air rushes out.
And then I see him through a window.
Pietro.
He’s pale—too pale. Tubes snake from his nose and arm. His chest rises and falls, steady but shallow. The sight of him, still and broken, cracks something open inside me.
“I have to go in,” I tell the nurse.
“Just for a minute.” She slips a mask over my face. Sanitizes my hands.
She leaves me by his side, gripping the bed rail with trembling fingers.
“Hey,” I whisper. “You stubborn, reckless, heroic idiot.”
No response. Just the hum of machines and the muffled pulse of my own heart in my ears.
“You said you’d protect me.” My voice hitches. “You did. You got me out. You damn well better come back to me.”
His hand is cold when I touch it. I press mine over his and lean closer.
“I’m not the Oracle. I’m just a woman who doesn’t know how to live in a world where you don’t wake up.”
Tears burn behind my eyes, but I don’t let them fall. Not yet. Not in front of him even if he can’t see me. Instead, I press my masked lips to the back of his hand and close my eyes.
“You saved me.” My voice is softer now. “So, I’m still here. Now it’s your turn. Come back to me, Pietro.”
The nurse touches my shoulder. “Time’s up.”
I nod but don’t move for another breath. Then I straighten, slide my fingers from his, and whisper the one thing I’ve never said out loud.
“I love you.”
And this time, I let the tears fall.
The machines hiss and hum like tired ghosts. I’ve memorized every beat of them—every blip that signals he’s still here. Still fighting. The nurse rolls me out to face the window. I watch every breath he takes. The nurse brings meds to me. “Take these, you’ll need them.”
Emma comes to sit beside me. Holds my hand. “Luca dragged us both out of hell,” I say, leaning against her shoulder. She kisses my cheek, holds my hand tighter. “Luca told me everything. I can’t ever lose you, Valaria.”
Pietro’s pale and too still. After several hours, the nurse takes pity on me.
“Another minute?” she says smiling at me. “Only you.”
“It’s okay. He needs her—not me,” Emma whispers.
I let Emma’s finger slip out my grasp—mask up and sanitize my hands. The nurse pushes my wheelchair through the doorway.
Now I sit beside him in the dim light, fingers curled loosely around his. His skin is warm but slack. His breathing is shallow but steady. I study the line of his jaw, the cut above his brow, the golden stubble that’s grown since he first landed on the island.
The promised minute stretches longer and longer. Emma watches me through the window. She blow a kiss whenever I look up. The nurse appears. “No, no. I have to stay.”
“I know. I brought your meds.” I swallow and she slips away.
I whisper to him. Stories. Nonsense. Please. Love.
"Come on, Pietro," I murmur now, brushing a hand across his temple. "You’re not allowed to leave me. Not after everything."
Then—
A twitch.
Fingers.
Eyes.
I bolt upright as his lashes flutter. He blinks slowly, like waking from underwater. Confused. Heavy. Lost.
“Pietro?” My voice cracks on his name.
His gaze drags to mine. Unfocused, bleary, but there. And then—recognition. A slow flicker of light behind stormy gray eyes.
“Valaria…” It’s a rasp. Barely a breath. But it hits me like thunder.
“I’m here,” I choke, grabbing his hand, pressing it to my mask. “You’re okay. You’re going to be okay.”
He tries to move, winces, stops.
“No, don’t—don’t move. You had surgery. You lost a lot of blood. But you’re safe now. You’re safe.”
His brows knit together, like he’s remembering something terrible. “You...you were hurt…”
“I’m fine. You got me out. I owe you my life.” I smile through the tears.
“You don’t owe me anything, Valaria.”
“But I want to give it,” I sob.
“You’ve given me everything any man could want.”
He closes his eyes. Drifts away for a moment.
“How’d we get out? I can’t remember.”
“Luca found us just in time because Gavrix sent him coordinates.”
He swallows hard. “Gavrix. I remember.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“I lost him again–like before. Thought I’d lost you too.”
“You almost did,” I whisper. “And I almost lost you.”
He shifts, this time just enough to brush my hand across his lips, the barest ghost of a kiss. “You’re here,” he breathes. “I dreamed you said you love me.”
“You heard me?” Tears fall. “It wasn’t a dream.”
And for what feels like forever, I see something settle in his eyes?—
Peace.
Pain.
Love.