Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Henry
Fluorescent lights hummed overhead as I hurried through the maze of hospital corridors, searching for the correct room number.
The flight from Atlanta to Fort Lauderdale had only been a couple of hours, but my mind hadn’t quieted for even a second. All I could think about was how I’d never thought to call area hospitals on the off-chance Blake might have survived that explosion.
I’d seen it with my own eyes. Saw the night sky light up with the force of the fire. I’d assumed there was no way he’d survive it.
Then again, if anyone could survive something like this, it was Blake. He had a talent for slipping through death’s fingers. It was practically a hobby at this point.
Or a game to see how many times he could tempt death and win.
Which was why I should have done some digging. Scoured police reports and hacked hospital records. But I hadn’t.
Ariana attempted to comfort me during the flight, reminding me I’d been a bit pre-occupied over the past twenty-four hours, first with getting to her before Victor did, then disposing of Victor’s body and making sure all traces of him were erased from my house.
Not to mention the possibility Sarah might still be alive.
But it didn’t help. It only made the guilt fester even more.
Finally, I reached the room number I was given and burst inside, not bothering to knock.
The room was dimmer than the hallway, the blinds only partially drawn, letting in thin strips of the fading Florida sunlight. I moved toward where Blake lay propped up in the hospital bed, my feet moving in time with the steady beep from one of the machines.
Bandages wrapped his head, covering one ear. Bruises bloomed across his cheekbone and jaw in dark purples and blues, countless gashes marring his forehead and arms. I was certain there were probably even more I couldn’t see.
I scanned his frame, barely recognizing him. If it weren’t for the familiar tattoos snaking down his arms, I’d wonder if this was the same man who’d become one of my most trusted confidants, especially over the past several months.
I’d only ever seen him in black suits. Immaculate. Polished.
Invincible.
With the things I knew he was capable of, you’d have to be.
But seeing him in a hospital gown, covered with cuts and bruises made him look…human.
As if sensing my presence, his eyes fluttered open and met mine.
“Hey,” I said, the word coming out rougher than I intended.
“Hey.” His voice was gravelly, but unmistakably his.
“I’m sorry I’m just getting here now. I thought you were…” I trailed off.
“Dead?” he finished for me, exhaling a long breath and floating his gaze toward the ceiling. “I thought I was, too.”
I lowered myself into the chair beside his bed. “How… How did you survive?”
He shifted, his face scrunching up in pain. “It’s still a blur. All I have are flashes. I remember thinking that since the bomb and wiring seemed to be somewhat rudimentary, there might be a delay.” He smiled weakly. “Apparently, I was right.”
“I’m glad you were,” I said with a sincere smile.
“I didn’t know how much longer I’d be able to remain perfectly still.
So I made a run for it. Barely made it through the door before the blast threw me.
Next thing I remember, I’m waking up here.
” He gestured around the room, wincing before bracing his arm over his stomach.
“Apparently, I was blown toward the dock. A passing fisherman found me and called for help.”
“How bad are your injuries?” I scanned his frame.
“Not as bad as the alternative,” he replied with a self-deprecating laugh.
That only made him scrunch up his face in pain yet again.
“I have a mild concussion and some bruised ribs. A bunch of lacerations, especially on my back from where glass got imbedded. My shoulder was dislocated, and I have a pretty nasty sprain in my ankle. One of my eardrums got blown out, too.” He lifted his arm to the bandage covering his ear.
“Guess I’ll have to put any dreams of being a pilot on hold. ”
“You’d hate having a real job,” I remarked.
“You’re right about that,” he said, attempting to adjust himself.
As he did, his hospital gown slipped, revealing a brand on his chest I’d never seen before. I squinted, trying to decipher it, but he quickly covered it.
I only caught a glimpse of it, but there was something familiar about the cross that turned into a sharp blade with a crown askew at the top. It reminded me of a mark my high school girlfriend had in the same spot.
At least the crown. Something about the jagged lines sparked a memory of asking her about it.
About telling her how I got the scars on my back so she’d feel more comfortable sharing with me.
But she didn’t.
She shut down, saying she didn’t want to talk about it.
“What happened with Victor?” Blake asked, pulling me back to the present. “Is Ariana okay?”
“She’s fine,” I replied, my voice somewhat distant. “She wanted to come see you, but I didn’t think it smart considering she’s technically missing. She’s at my place in Coral Gables right now.”
“That’s a relief.” He pushed out a breath. “What about Victor? Was I right? Was it a trap?”
I gave a small nod. “When I got back to the farm, he was there. Managed to override all my security protocols. I couldn’t even open the front gate. Had to scale a tree and jump over the fence.”
Blake scrunched his brow. “That shouldn’t be possible.”
“I thought the same thing,” I said around the tightness in my jaw.
The fact that Victor got past all the security I had in place bothered me more than I was willing to admit. I prided myself on being the best of the best. Finding vulnerabilities in systems before anyone else.
And yet I never caught the vulnerabilities in my own system.
Because of that, I’d nearly lost Ariana.
“How did he know she was there?” Blake asked. “That’s the part I don’t understand.”
“Probably because I answered when he called one of the Bratva soldiers I’d taken out up in Maine,” I explained. “He must have recognized my voice from when we spoke at the gala.”
Blake closed his eyes in realization.
This was the reason I’d insisted on observing Ariana and Victor from afar. Not engaging. Not interacting. I didn’t want to do anything that could connect me to either of them.
But there was something about Ariana that night.
As much as I regretted how my actions put Ariana in harm’s way, allowing Victor to track her down, I didn’t regret approaching her.
If I hadn’t spoken to her that night, I wouldn’t have been intrigued by her. Wouldn’t have been outside her house when she’d been abducted. Wouldn’t have been able to intervene.
Wouldn’t have been able to save her.
Wouldn’t have taken her to Maine and gotten to know who she really was.
Wouldn’t have fallen in love with her.
So I couldn’t regret anything.
But I could do everything in my power to always keep her safe going forward.
“I assume you…took care of your unwanted house guest?” Blake asked, arching a single brow.
“Actually, Ariana had the situation under control by the time I got back,” I replied, a smile tugging on my mouth as the image of walking in on Ariana overpowering Victor flashed in front of my eyes.
“Did she really?” Blake chuckled.
“She did. Although, if it were up to me, I’d have strung that bastard up and spent the next few weeks making him experience the same fear Ariana did.”
He pinched his lips together in contemplation, then admitted, “I think it needed to be her.”
I exhaled a long breath. As difficult as it was to watch her attempt to cope with the reality that she’d taken a life, I couldn’t help but agree. For the last sight Victor saw in this world to be that of the woman he’d belittled and abused, hovering over him, holding all the power?
There was justice in that.
Vengeance.
Maybe even closure.
“What are you going to do with all your free time now that it’s over?”
I ran a hand over my face. “I’m not sure it is over.”
“What do you mean?”
“Sarah.” A lump formed in my throat. “Victor told Ariana he didn’t kill her. Said she was ‘chosen’.”
Blake’s eyes widened, his hand rubbing his chest… In the same location as his brand.
“Do you know what that means?” I asked carefully.
“Not a clue,” he answered quickly.
Almost too quickly.
“Did Victor say anything else?” he pressed, keeping his eyes locked on mine, almost as if purposefully refusing to look away. “What was she chosen for?”
“I have no idea,” I answered cautiously. “He attacked Ariana before she could ask any questions, so she killed him.”
Blake nodded, staring straight ahead, a contemplative expression crossing his face.
I’d seen that look before. When he was desperately attempting to put together a puzzle.
But then he shook it off, shifting his attention back toward me. “What can I do to help?”
“Not sure you’d be much help right now.” I gestured down his frame.
“I still want to help in any way I can.”
“You can help me by getting better. Think you can do that?”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Good,” I answered with a tight smile, unsure if I shrugged off his offer of help because I truly wanted him to focus on getting better.
Or because I couldn’t shake the feeling he was keeping something from me.
Something important.