Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
I don’t think Arlo’s ever driven the car as fast as he’s done it tonight.
We reached the hospital in record time, his hand tightly holding mine as he led me through the first floor of the hospital.
His tense body, agitated state, and the pure sorrow on his face cause ache to bloom in my chest. I don’t even know what we’re going to see, and whatever it is, I don’t think either of us is ready.
Arlo taps his foot impatiently on the floor of the elevator, watching the door with intensity.
The elevator stops, the door opens, and we’re out before I can process what’s happening.
This particular floor isn’t as crowded, because Hudson had Noelle moved to a private wing; hence, there’s only a handful of nurses, some of their men, and the receptionist.
“Noelle De Santis,” Arlo states bluntly when we approach the front desk. The girl looks to be an intern, young and inexperienced. Her eyes widen a little at Arlo’s tone, though she doesn’t comment. Her fingers move over the keyboard, typing away quickly before looking back at us.
“Room twenty-two. Down the hall, then turn right.”
With a small thank you and a soft smile, I pick up the pace, trying to keep up with Arlo’s long strides. He leads me down the hall with ease, turning the right corner and reaching the part of the wing where Noelle’s room is.
The scent of disinfectant is strong, my nose scrunching as it hits my buds. Arlo doesn’t falter, though, and with a deep breath, starts walking down the hallway.
Hushed voices can be heard, and it doesn’t take me long to recognize a few. Freya’s sitting on one of the chairs outside the room, with a blonde woman standing right next to her, looking out the window.
I’ve never seen her before, but she looks rather scary. I make a mental note to ask Arlo later about her, but right now, I’m focused on trying to be here for him in any way I possibly can.
It was Cove who called him. Apparently, Hudson tried reaching Arlo as well, but given what we were doing, neither of us heard his phone ringing.
Cove’s not here, though. He’s still trying to put the pieces together of what went down.
Hudson’s not in the right state to say a thing, and I can’t blame him.
“Did they say anything?”
Freya looks at him and shakes her head before releasing a sigh. “Not yet, no. Hudson’s inside with her.”
“Let’s go.” Arlo looks back at me, reluctantly releasing the grip on my hand. He steps forward, pushing the door open, and enters it swiftly. I follow suit, keeping some distance between us.
And the sight makes my heart physically hurt.
Noelle’s attached to too many machines. My eyes dart toward the heart monitor, and a small sigh of relief slips out. Her breathing is even, her heart stable from what I can tell. Her chest’s wrapped in bandages, and Hudson’s holding one of her hands tightly in his.
In his other hand, however, he’s holding a gun.
The object is shiny, polished, and evidently loaded.
He doesn’t even see us — he’s merely looking through us.
His eyes are bloodshot, red, and puffy from crying.
But what hits the hardest is how much life has drained out of him.
There’s nothing behind his green eyes except sorrow.
No will to live, no will to fight. Almost as if he’s already surrendered himself to losing Noelle.
“Dad, put the gun away.” Arlo takes a small step forward.
“Try to take it from me, and I will shoot you where you stand.”
Finally, Hudson looks at Arlo. His words are cold, deprived of any emotions. He’s barely alive, holding onto the thinnest rope of hope that all of this will turn out to be alright. However, he’s dead on the inside. His eyes are dull, voice vicious enough to make Arlo halt.
His hands are fists by his side before he walks over to the bed, pulls a chair, and sits on the opposite side of Hudson, taking Noelle’s hand in his.
“What happened?”
“She was shot through the heart. The bullet grazed it. It had to be removed.”
“Is she going to be okay?”
“It’s bad, Arlo,” Hudson chuckles, but it’s an empty sound. “They put her in an induced coma. They don’t know if she’ll wake up.”
“She will,” Arlo says, yet the words lack conviction. “She has to.”
“If she doesn’t,” Hudson trails off, eyes falling onto the gun in his hand. “I’ll follow right behind her.”
“You’re serious,” Arlo asks, though it comes off more like a statement. That’s when I start to understand the deep bond Noah and Hudson share. “You’ll actually do it.”
“There’s no me if there’s no her, Arlo. I made vows. In life and death. And I plan to follow her wherever she goes.”
“You can’t,” I insert myself into the conversation, walking closer to them. “You know she’d want you to live.”
A smile tugs on Hudson’s lips. It’s a sad one, filled with memories, yearning, and nostalgia. He looks down at Noelle, then brings her hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles.
“Yes, but Noelle knows I’m not the one to listen to her.”
“Hudson…”
He turns to look at me. “I’m glad you’re okay, Blair.”
The sincerity in his voice pains me. He offers a small smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, glancing all over me, as if to make sure I’m physically alright.
“You don’t blame me?”
His brows furrow. “Why’d I blame you?”
“Because she got hurt because of me. If you hadn’t had to save me, she wouldn’t have been shot.”
From the corner of my eye, I spot Arlo’s jaw working. It clenches, and he looks ready to respond, but Hudson beats him to it. He takes a small intake of breath, eyes never leaving my face.
“The only person to blame is the motherfucker who shot her. I’d never blame you, and neither would she. This wasn’t your fault, and I don’t want you blaming yourself, alright?”
“Okay.”
Hudson then turns to look at Arlo, and the two seem to have a silent conversation. The tension in the room skyrockets, with both men having too many things to say. Arlo’s disheveled hair falls over his face, covering one of his eyes, whilst Hudson looks at him, head to toe, without saying a word.
The silence is deafening. This room is filled with so much pain, anger, and most importantly, the need for revenge. Seeing Noelle so vulnerable, asleep, and unresponsive hurts me.
She welcomed me with open arms, started treating me like one of her own immediately, and she’s the closest thing I’ve ever had to a maternal figure in life.
No matter what Hudson says, I can’t stop blaming myself for any of this.
Because at the end of the day, everything started going downhill for them after I appeared, and it’s hard not to point fingers. This time, all are pointing at me.
Hudson’s the first one to break the silence.
“Her doctor says that she’s not getting better. But she’s not getting worse, either. This is just a waiting game.”
Arlo sighs, looking down at Noelle. Gently, he pushes a strand of her hair out of her face, stroking her cheek tenderly. His eyes swell with tears, and he swallows them back, trying to hold himself together.
My legs move toward him of their own accord until I’m standing right next to him. I’ve never been good at comforting people, but Arlo isn’t just anyone. I put a trembling hand on his shoulder, squeezing it slightly. A silent way for me to say that I’m right here, and he gets it.
He looks up at me, then puts his hand over mine before turning his attention back to his father.
“What happens if her state remains unchanged?”
“Depends on how long she stays like this. We’ll have two options. Either keep her in the induced coma or try to wake her up.”
“And if we try to wake her up?”
“She’ll either wake up or die.
Arlo’s hand squeezes mine tightly, just like my heart clenches. If Noelle dies, Hudson will follow suit. I’ve no doubt he’ll pull the trigger just so he could be with her again in the afterlife — if such a thing even exists.
But the fallout will be nothing short of terrifying.
Arlo would get swallowed by the rage, and he’ll go on a killing rampage.
He’ll slowly ruin himself on the inside until he goes numb.
And Aria? God, I don’t even know what’ll happen to her.
On the outside, she seems strong, but on the inside, she’s just that little girl who needs her parents.
She’s just a teenager; she shouldn’t be losing either of them, let alone both of them at once.
“Blair, do you mind leaving us for a moment?”
Hudson’s voice reaches my ears, and I look down at Arlo for confirmation. He nods, and I walk out of the room, closing the door behind me to give them privacy.
I fiddle with my fingers on my lap, sitting on the chair outside of Noelle’s room.
Their men are heavily guarding this entire floor, just in case.
Freya left a while ago, and I’m left here with the blonde woman who either has no emotions whatsoever or is too good at hiding them.
Her expression is blank, to the point of it being rather terrifying.
It’s been around twenty minutes since I left the room so Hudson and Arlo could talk, and since there’s not been any shouting or the sound of Hudson’s gun going off, I’d say they’re talking peacefully.
“So,” my ears perk when the woman speaks, eyes snapping to meet hers. “You’re Blair.”
“And you are?”
“Ekaterina. You can just call me Kaya.”
“Russian?” I ask, tilting my head to the side.
“Do you speak the language?”
“No, unfortunately. It’s a beautiful language, though.”
She hums in response. “That is true.”
The silence stretches between us, uncomfortably. I shift in my seat a little, unable to ignore the scrutinizing gaze thrown my way. She’s not being subtle about it, either. I’d guess she doesn’t want to be.
“How are you feeling?”
“I’m alright.”
She lifts a brow. “You’re alright? That’s… odd, considering what you’ve gone through.”
“I’m out, and that’s what matters.”