Chapter 60 WHOLE HEARTS
I pace outside his ICU room as the doctors complete their exams.
“Why aren’t you inside?” a quiet voice murmurs.
I glance to my right as Sofia sidles up next to me, her head wrapped in a white bandage. Thankfully, she was only knocked unconscious and wasn’t otherwise injured.
A whiff of vetiver laced with lavender hits my nose. She’s wearing her brother’s cologne.
“I didn’t want to be in the way,” I murmur, motioning to the team of five inside. “There are student doctors and everything. Dr. Hayden will debrief me once he’s done.”
My phone buzzes again. I ignore it.
I know it’s probably Scarlett or my family. After the shootout yesterday, I called them so they would hear from me before they flew down themselves.
And sweet Aria, even amid her grief—Blake didn’t make it—she came up and consoled me this morning. Part of me feels guilty for being relieved about Elias when she just lost everything.
The news cycle is vicious, the headlines wild. “Anderson Princess Crossed Paths with Mobster Husband,” “Is It True Love if He Doesn’t Die for You?”
I don’t care anymore.
My body aches—bumps and bruises from the scuffle—but none of it matters. Not when the man inside has been unconscious since they wheeled him into surgery after the SWAT team took control of the scene.
“Gunshot wound to the chest, left side. Hypovolemic shock. Through and through lung shot.”
Words I remember from nurses speaking in hushed tones.
The last twenty-four hours have been the most terrifying of my life.
“But we’re lucky,” as Dr. Hayden, the surgeon, said.
The bullet missed his heart and the major vessels. And because we were already in the hospital, they stabilized him fast.
He should wake up soon.
God, I miss his gravelly voice and brilliant green eyes.
I miss the way he calls me his zemer.
His heart.
A breath whispers from me as I take the music box out of my bag and flip it open. Dazzling red gems glimmer, a splash of color against the sterile white walls. “Für Elise” tinkles in the hallway.
“He finally gave it to you, huh?” Sofia comments.
I smile. “How long did he have it?”
She frowns, thinking.
“Decades. It was the first thing he got when he cashed in on a secret he overheard while working at a nightclub. Fake ID and all. So he was eighteen, maybe. Around that time.”
Almost twenty years.
He’s been carrying my dream all along.
Sofia traces a petal with her finger. “He’d never let me touch it. I knew then.”
“Knew what?”
Her lips curve up, the smile transforming her normally reserved face. Hints of the exuberant little girl she once was shine through.
“You were it for him. He’s never dated anyone else.”
My heart skips a beat. “No one?”
I look through the viewing window at the doctors hovering over him. A man like Elias Kent, with his money, dangerous good looks, and power, should have no shortage of female attention.
“No. My brother acts like a cold-hearted bastard, but he’s a secret romantic. Faithful and loyal, just like our dad.”
Sofia squeezes my hand. “You stole his heart twenty years ago and never gave it back. But I don’t think he’d have it any other way.”
A knot forms in my throat. I press my palm to the glass, my breath fogging up the window.
Deep down, I know I waited for him too.
And now, I just need him to wake up.
I want to spend more Christmases with him.
“Not dead yet, huh?” a sardonic voice drawls from behind us.
A flash of silver twirled around knuckles. A perfectly pressed shirtsleeve.
“Reactions,” Sofia mutters, elbowing Sebastian, who chuckles under his breath.
“Emotions are liabilities,” the man mutters.
“Look at you two pining over Romeo over there. Useless pining. He either lives or dies. My bet? He’s fine.
Surgery was successful. Two liters of blood loss but a transfusion fixed that.
The damn scar from the bullet wound would probably make him look sexier. ”
Sebastian sneaks a glance at me, the arrogant smirk still on his lips. “There’s no reason to worry. It’s illogical.”
Sofia rolls her eyes. “How did you get in? You aren’t family.”
The Irish mobster winks. “Lawyer. Professor. More accurately, a mob lawyer in Chicago. I can get in anywhere.”
“Not worried your family will put two and two together and think you’re working with Elias to overthrow them?” I straighten when I see the doctors gathering their things.
Checkup is done.
Sebastian whistles. “Queen of the underworld, all right. Playing chess beautifully.”
“I had a good teacher,” I murmur.
He leans in. “I told them I wanted to see if the Albanians pointed the finger at our family. Those slippery Berishas…half fleeing, half resisting. Zero strategy.”
The last I heard, the remaining Berisha brothers have gone into hiding. They’re no doubt afraid of the other families.
There’s probably an extirpation with their names on it.
Dr. Hayden exits, and his team disperses.
I hold my breath.
“Mrs. Kent, his vitals are good. He’s responding to external stimuli. We thought we’d need to intubate him longer, but he’s breathing on his own. He should wake up soon.” He scribbles some notes onto his clipboard.
Should being the operative word.
“Should he wake up, we’ll keep him here for two to three days and then transfer him to a regular room for monitoring.” The doctor caps his pen and smiles. “All things considered, your husband’s a lucky man. It could’ve been much worse.”
A heavy exhale escapes me. “Thank you.”
Dr. Hayden nods and turns to leave.
But I stop him.
“Yes?” He arches his brow.
My voice trembles. “Our friend Ren…any updates? They wouldn’t tell us anything. And he doesn’t have family…”
Ren’s technically a John Doe—no last name, no next of kin. He doesn’t even carry an ID. They rushed him into surgery at the same time as Elias.
The doctor hesitates. “I can’t share details since you aren’t related. They’re doing the best they can, and I think it’s positive.”
Without saying more, he pivots and strides away.
“Ren will live,” Sebastian comments.
We whirl to him.
“And how do you know that?” Sofia asks.
The man twirls his penknife. “They told me.”
“And why would they tell you and not us? You’re not family.” I cross my arms.
Another sardonic brow lift. “Mob. Lawyer.” He smirks.
“And how do you think Ren got a heart transplant,” he snaps his fingers, “just like that?”
I blink. Sofia’s mouth drops open.
From the bits and pieces I gathered, Ren’s heart gave up during surgery.
It turned out he had a congenital issue all along and was on the transplant list, which explained his pills and his strange wheezing and chest-clutching these past few months.
When Blake was declared brain dead from oxygen deprivation because the bullet severed his trachea, they had to act fast.
Because he was an organ donor.
“You think they just hand out hearts like candy?” Sebastian mutters. “There’s a mile-long list. Tons of red tape. Ren wasn’t even remotely at the top. But the massacre helped.” He smirks.
“Sebastian McEntyre,” Sofia whisper-shouts, “don’t smile when you say ‘massacre.’”
Sebastian’s smirk vanishes. “Hospital was in lockdown. I came as soon as I heard. A heart’s only good for a few hours, you know? A little leverage, a small threat here and there, and boom!”
He stiffens. Sofia freezes, her nostrils flaring.
The reason for the sudden solemnness hits me.
Boom.
Aleksei’s word.
Their friend betrayed them. He fed Ren bad information about a conspiracy within The Six to kill Elias, which sent Ren on a hunt for clues while Elias was planning the hospital siege. Our best guess was, Aleksei thought Ren could thwart his misguided revenge plans.
And now, Aleksei vanished after trying to stop the events he’d started.
No one’s heard from him since.
It must be heartbreaking to lose one of their own this way.
“Will you look for him?” I ask. “Aleksei, I mean.”
The duo doesn’t answer me, but I can tell they’re conflicted.
“I’m a psychopath. I don’t have feelings,” Sebastian says. “So it doesn’t matter to me. Aleksei’s just another person passing through.”
“Liar. You feel something,” Sofia whispers. “Or else you wouldn’t convince the hospital to give Ren the heart.”
She nudges Sebastian, a soft smile curving her lips.
He scoffs. “Don’t think too much of it. He’s just more useful to me alive than dead.”
Silence falls—heavy and suffocating.
My heart clamors to be beside its partner.
“Thanks for being here,” I murmur. “I’m going inside. I want to be there when he wakes up.”
And he will.
I have faith in him.
In us.