37. Chapter 37
The fluorescent lights flicker above me, a buzzing drone that echoes down the sterile hallway.
Each step feels heavy as I clutch Yara”s small hand, her presence the only thing keeping the panic at bay.
The harsh beeps of monitors grow louder the closer we get to his room, my heart pounding in time with their incessant rhythm.
I peer through the window, my breath catching at the sight of Morello lying motionless amidst the web of tubes and wires.
Bandages wrap his broad torso, a stark white contrast to his deeply tanned skin.
Even now, under the harsh hospital lights, he radiates a rugged strength that makes my pulse quicken.
”He”ll be okay, won”t he Mama?” Yara”s soft voice pulls me from my daze.
I squeeze her hand, willing my voice to remain steady. ”Of course sweetie. He”s a fighter.”
Morello stirs as we enter the room, his eyelids fluttering. I perch on the edge of his bed, the warmth of his hand sending tingles up my arm.
”Hey tough guy,” I whisper. ”You really scared me back there.”
His eyes meet mine, creased with pain but still intensely focused. With a gentle squeeze he conveys what words cannot, calming the storm inside me.
Yara hops up beside him, worry creasing her young face. ”You”ll get the bad guys, won”t you Mr. Agent Morello? The ones that are still left?”
The corner of his mouth twitches in a hint of a smile.
”Don”t you worry kiddo. I”m not going anywhere.”
His voice comes out gravelly but resolute.
Relief washes over me as I study his rugged features, taking in every detail.
However vulnerable he may seem in this moment, I know his strength and determination will pull him through.
And I”ll be right here, ready to explore what lies between us when he”s back on his feet.
For now, just feeling his warmth and gazing into those soulful eyes is enough.
I take a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves as we sit in silence, the steady beep of the heart monitor punctuating the stillness.
Morello”s eyes are closed now, his breathing slow and labored.
Yara fidgets next to me, too young to grasp the gravity of it all.
I brush her hair back gently. ”Why don”t you go get a snack from the vending machine down the hall? Get something for Mr. Agent Morello too for when he wakes up.” I can”t resist using her adorable name for him. It makes me smile every time I hear her say it, a hint of normalcy and levity amongst the dark storm.
She nods and skips out of the room, comforted by having a task.
Alone now, I scoot closer to Morello, keeping hold of his hand. With my free hand I trace the line of his jaw, rough with stubble, and then smooth back his dark hair from his forehead.
”You have to pull through this,” I whisper. ”We”ve been through too much for it to end here.”
I think back on our journey, how standoffish I was when he first approached me, and then subsequently when he protected us and masterminded our escape from Gerald.
Slowly, his gruff exterior gave way to playful banter, then meaningful conversations late into the night after Yara fell asleep.
Somewhere along the way, his role transformed from information-seeker to bodyguard to confidant to something more. Something neither of us has dared speak aloud, but which simmers unspoken between us.
I lean in, brushing my lips lightly against his. They”re dry and chapped, but the spark is undeniable.
”I”m not ready to say goodbye,” I breathe.
His eyes flutter open to meet mine once more.
This time, his squeeze of my hand feels purposeful rather than reflexive.
He”s not giving up this fight.
Or on us.
I exhale in relief as Morello”s eyes focus on me, conveying a reassuring alertness despite his weakened state.
His lips part slightly, rasping out a barely audible ”Alina...”
My name on his lips sends a shiver through me. I smooth his hair back again, needing the contact. ”Shh...don”t try to talk. Just rest.”
His brows furrow in that familiar look of determination as he struggles to speak again.
”Are...are you okay? Is Yara okay?”
His concerns are not for his own condition, but checking on my wellbeing and my daughter”s.
So like him.
I nod, blinking back tears. ”I”m fine, thanks to you. That was too close of a call.”
His eyes cloud with pain and regret. ”I”m sorry...I should have...” His voice trails off in a fit of coughing.
I squeeze his hand firmly.
”No. You have nothing to apologize for. You”ve done so much for us already.”
I lean in, speaking earnestly.
”Let me take care of you for once.”
The corner of his mouth quirks up slightly. ”Yes ma”am.”
Relief floods through me at that glimpse of his humor returning. I study his face, this man who has come to mean so much to me, wanting to etch every detail into my memory.
”Get some rest,” I say gently. ”We”ll talk more when you”re stronger.”
I smooth his hair back one last time as his eyes drift closed.
But our hands remain clasped together, speaking the words we cannot yet say.
I sit back in the chair beside Morello”s hospital bed, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest as he rests.
My mind races with the events of the last 24 hours—the shootout, the terror of not knowing if he would survive, and the heart-stopping moment when he regained consciousness.
Under the harsh fluorescent lights, I study his face, taking in every cut and bruise. Evidence of his strength, and his sacrifice.
My heart aches, knowing how close I came to losing him before we even had a chance.
Guilt wells up inside me.
He took those bullets meant for me and Yara. Were it not for his protective instincts, his sense of duty, he wouldn”t be lying here.
I know I have no right to ask more of him, to want more than his role as the agent assigned to gather information, to help us escape, and then to guard us.
But I can”t deny what my heart knows to be true.
Somewhere along the way, my feelings for Morello have grown into something deeper. Something terrifying in its intensity.
In this quiet moment, I can no longer avoid the truth—I care for him in a way I haven”t allowed myself to care for someone in a very long time.
Forget what I thought I felt for Gerald.
This is the real thing.
Maybe it”s foolish, hoping for a future neither of us dared envision before.
But, brushing my fingers over his, feeling the warmth of his skin, I make a silent promise. I will stay by his side as long as it takes for him to recover.
And when he”s well again, we”ll have a chance to explore what lies between us. At our own pace.
Without the shadows of dangerous men breathing down our necks.
It won”t be easy—the obstacles are many.
For one, Luchenko is still very much alive and obsessed with Yara. That”s not just going to randomly change—he”s her biological father, after all, and me hating that fact doesn”t change it.
But I have hope. Here and now, with Morello, I feel a sense of home that has eluded me for so long.
And for the first time in years, I allow myself to believe that, even with all we”ve endured, somehow real, pure love can still find a way.