Chapter 26 Ares
Ares
“I Stayed”
Yuna collapsed before I could even finish the argument. One second, she was standing there, stubborn as hell, telling me she didn’t need help.
The next second, her body just gave out.
I caught her before she hit the floor.
“Putain,” I muttered under my breath. Fuck.
Her weight went slack in my arms. Light. Too light. Her breathing was shallow against my chest, barely there.
The doctor was already moving.
“Bring her upstairs,” he said quickly.
“Where else am I going to take her?” I snapped.
I carried her through the house, taking the stairs two at a time while the doctor and a nurse followed behind me.
Her head rested against my shoulder, curls brushing my lips. Her skin was pale, colder than it should have been.
“Open the room,” I ordered.
A maid rushed ahead and pushed the bedroom doors open.
I laid her carefully on the bed and stepped back while the doctor moved in, checking her pulse, lifting her eyelids, attaching monitors like he had done this a thousand times.
The nurse hung another IV bag.
I stood at the end of the bed watching them work.
I couldn’t deny I was mad as fuck she was acting out, but I knew she couldn’t control it.
“She’s insane,” I muttered in French. “Running down a hill barefoot like a lunatic. I should have run her ass over. Give her a reason to feel hurt.”
The doctor ignored my tone.
“When is the last time she ate?” he asked.
I didn’t answer right away.
Because I didn’t know.
That irritated me more.
“She’s been eating drugs, I don’t fucking know,” I said flatly.
The doctor nodded, which confirmed everything he needed.
“Her body is severely malnourished. Dehydrated. Her blood pressure dropped when she exerted herself.”
He looked at the monitor again.
“Her kidneys were beginning to shut down.”
That made my head lift.
“What?”
“She has been starving her body. Another few days without proper hydration and this could have ended very differently.”
My hands slid into my pockets so nobody would see them tighten.
“You’re saying she could have died?”
“Yes.”
The room went quiet.
The nurse adjusted the IV line and slowly pushed the medication through.
“She needs fluids. Rest. Food,” the doctor continued. “And no stress on her body.”
I looked down at her.
Her face looked peaceful in sleep.
Too peaceful for someone who had been screaming at me ten minutes ago.
The doctor glanced at me. “You can step out if you like.”
I didn’t move.
“I’m fine here.”
He didn’t argue.
The IV pump started its quiet rhythm.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Hours passed.
I sat in the chair beside her bed, jacket off, sleeves rolled. They had brought up a plate of entrec?te steak and frites with a small glass of cognac, something my house staff knew I usually ate when I was in Monaco. The steak had gone cold on the tray. I barely touched it.
The nurse checked her vitals every hour.
Her breathing stayed shallow but steady.
Once she stirred slightly, a soft sound escaped her throat before she sank back into sleep.
My eyes stayed on her.
Hawking her.
Watching every movement.
She looked smaller without all that anger standing up in her body.
I leaned back in the chair, rubbing my jaw.
I had five girlfriends who loved my money, my power, my life.
Not one of them ever made me sit in a chair for six hours watching them breathe.
I finally stood and stepped out onto the balcony.
Night had fallen over Monaco. The sea stretched dark and endless beyond the hills.
I lit a blunt and leaned against the railing.
The smoke curled up into the cold air.
“She’s crazy,” I muttered to myself.
Arguing with me while she could barely stand.
Crazy.
And still… something about her made me stay until she was stable.
The balcony door slid open quietly.
The nurse stepped out.
“Her blood pressure is stabilizing,” she said.
“Good.”
“She will likely sleep through the night.”
I nodded once and flicked ash over the railing.
“You can head to sleep, and we will call you if anything changes.”
“I’m up watching. I’ll sleep in here.”
She studied me for a moment but didn’t comment.
Inside the room, the monitors continued their quiet rhythm.
Sometime after midnight, the nurse guided Yuna out of bed.
I stood instantly.
“Relax,” she whispered. “Bathroom.”
Yuna moved slowly, half asleep, leaning slightly against the nurse’s arm.
Her eyes were open but unfocused.
“She doesn’t even know I’m here,” I said quietly.
The nurse shook her head.
“She’ll remember you later.”
Yuna paused in the doorway, blinking like she was somewhere between dreams and waking.
Then she disappeared into the bathroom.
I exhaled slowly.
A few minutes later, the nurse walked her back to bed.
She collapsed into the pillows like gravity had doubled.
“See,” the nurse said softly. “She needs rest.”
I didn’t answer.
I just watched her again.
Morning came.
Then afternoon.
Twenty-four hours of sleep broken by small moments of movement.
Water.
Bathroom.
Medicine.
Vitals.
Her breathing got stronger.
Her color improved slightly.
Finally, the doctor returned.
He checked her chart, examined the IV line, and nodded.
“She is stable now.”
I leaned back in the chair.
“Define stable.”
“She is receiving fluids properly. Her kidneys are responding. Her body is beginning to recover. We should take some blood and send it to the lab to really make sure her organs are okay.”
I nodded slowly.
Thirty-five hours after she fainted, my phone finally buzzed.
Darius.
I stepped onto the balcony again and answered.
“What?”
“Boss,” he said, “you need to get back to Los Angeles.”
“Why?”
“Business that you don’t let anybody else touch.”
I closed my eyes briefly.
Of course.
Everything always moved when I stepped away.
“I’ll be there soon,” I said.
I hung up and stared out at the sea for a moment.
Then I went back inside.
The nurse was adjusting Yuna’s blanket.
She was still asleep, breathing deeper now.
“Can she be left alone for a few days?” I asked quietly.
The nurse looked up.
“Yes. She is stable enough to continue treatment without you here.”
“If anything changes, you call me immediately.”
“Of course.”
I stepped closer to the bed.
Yuna didn’t move.
Didn’t wake.
Didn’t even know I was there.
I studied her face for a long moment.
“You,” I murmured softly, almost amused, “are a lot of trouble.”
I straightened and looked at the nurse again.
“Make sure she eats.”
“We will.”
“Make sure she doesn’t run.”
A faint smile touched her lips.
“That will be difficult in her current condition.”
“Still,” I said calmly.
She nodded.
“And make sure she’s comfortable.”
“We will.”
I picked up my jacket.
Los Angeles was waiting.
But as I walked toward the door, my eyes drifted back to the bed one more time.
Just to make sure she was still breathing.