27. The Choice
The Choice
The hospital room was too white.
White walls. White sheets. White light that hummed overhead, casting everything in a sterile glow. I sat propped against the pillows, my wrists bandaged, my body bruised, my mind a blank expanse of nothing.
They'd kept me for observation. Twenty-four hours, the doctor said. Just to make sure there was no internal damage. No lasting effects from the kidnapping, the ropes, the terror.
I told them I was fine. I told them I wanted to leave. They told me to rest.
So I rested.
Aleksander sat in the chair beside my bed. He hadn't moved in hours—his eyes fixed on my face, his hands clasped in his lap. He'd changed out of his bloody clothes, but there was still a smear of red on his collar, a shadow of violence that he couldn't wash away.
Nathan stood by the window, his back to me, his silhouette sharp against the grey morning light. He'd been pacing earlier, restless, unable to sit still. Now he was still, watching the city wake up, his shoulders tense.
They'd both been here all night. Neither of them had left.
I looked at them—father and son, predator and heir, the two men who had claimed me in different ways. I thought about Gabriel, somewhere across the country, starting a new life without me. I thought about the farm, the barn, the girl I used to be.
"I can't do this anymore," I said.
Aleksander's eyes met mine. "Do what?"
"Being passed between you. Being the reason you hate each other." I pulled my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them. "I'm not a possession. I'm not a prize. I'm a person. And I'm tired of being torn apart."
"Monika—"
"Don't." I held up a hand. "Don't tell me you love me. Don't tell me you'll protect me. I've heard it all before. And it doesn't change anything."
Nathan turned from the window. His face was unreadable, but I saw the tension in his jaw, the way his hands curled at his sides.
"Then choose," he said. "Choose one of us. End it."
"What if I can't?"
"Then we'll choose for you." Aleksander's voice was soft, almost gentle. "We'll make the decision. We'll let you go."
I stared at him. "You'd do that?"
"If that's what you want." He reached out and took my hand, his fingers warm against mine. "I love you, Monika. I will always love you. But I won't keep you here if you want to leave."
Nathan stepped forward, his eyes dark. "I won't let you go. Not without a fight."
"Nathan—"
"She's mine, Father. She's always been mine. You just got to her first."
"This isn't about ownership." Aleksander stood, facing his son. "This is about what she wants."
"What she wants is to be loved. Really loved. Not used, not manipulated, not fought over." Nathan turned to me, his voice cracking. "I know I've been terrible. I know I've hurt you. But I love you, Monika. I love you more than I've ever loved anything."
I felt the tears building, hot and sharp, behind my eyes. "You don't love me. You want me. There's a difference."
"Maybe." He knelt beside the bed, his hands on mine. "But I'm willing to learn the difference. If you give me a chance."
I looked at him. At the desperation in his eyes, the raw vulnerability that he'd never shown anyone. I looked at Aleksander, at the love and the guilt and the weight of twenty years of grief.
I looked at the two of them, and I realized that I couldn't choose.
Because choosing one meant losing the other.
"I can't," I said. "I'm sorry. I can't."
They left.
Aleksander kissed my forehead, his lips soft and lingering. He said, "I'll be outside." And then he walked out, his footsteps echoing in the hallway.
Nathan stayed longer. He held my hand, his thumb tracing circles on my palm. He said, "I'm not giving up on you." And then he followed his father.
I was alone.
The room was quiet, the only sound the hum of the machines and the distant murmur of the hospital. I stared at the ceiling, at the white tiles, at the fluorescent light that flickered ever so slightly.
I thought about what they'd said. About choosing. About leaving.
I thought about Gabriel. About the life he'd offered me, the clean slate, the fresh start.
I thought about the cages. The warehouse. The things I'd seen and done and agreed to.
I should run.
I should get up, walk out of this hospital, catch a bus to somewhere far away. I should start over, the way Gabriel had started over. I should become someone new, someone who wasn't Monika Mire, someone who wasn't caught in the web of three men who loved and destroyed in equal measure.
But I didn't.
I lay in the hospital bed and stared at the ceiling and waited.
For what, I didn't know.
But I stayed.
The hours passed.
The sun rose higher, the light shifting across the room. Nurses came and went, checking my vitals, asking me questions I didn't want to answer. I told them I was fine. I told them I wanted to be alone. They left.
Aleksander came back at noon. He brought food—sandwiches, fruit, something that was supposed to be soup. I ate because he was watching, because I didn't want to disappoint him.
Nathan came back at three. He brought flowers—white roses, the same ones that had been at the gala. I set them on the windowsill and pretended they didn't mean anything.
They stayed. Both of them. They sat on opposite sides of the room and watched me, waiting for me to make a decision I couldn't make.
The sun set. The room grew dark. The nurses brought dinner, and I picked at it, and Aleksander and Nathan watched.
At midnight, I finally spoke.
"I'm not going to leave," I said. "I'm not going to choose."
Aleksander's eyes met mine. "Then what are you going to do?"
"I'm going to stay. Here. In this house, in this family. I'm going to finish school. I'm going to become a veterinarian. I'm going to live my life." I paused. "And I'm not going to let any of you make me feel guilty for it."
Nathan stood, walking toward the bed. "You're willing to stay. But you won't choose."
"No."
"Then what happens when one of us wants something you can't give?"
I met his eyes. "Then I'll tell you no. And you'll have to accept it."
He stared at me for a long moment. Then he nodded—a slow, reluctant nod—and stepped back.
Aleksander walked to the other side of the bed, his hand reaching for mine. "You're stronger than you know, Monika. Stronger than any of us."
"Maybe." I squeezed his hand. "Or maybe I'm just too tired to fight anymore."
He kissed my forehead. Nathan kissed my hand. And then they left, one after the other, their footsteps fading in the hallway.
I was alone again.
I looked at the flowers on the windowsill. The white roses, the symbol of a world I didn't understand.
I thought about Gabriel. About the life he'd offered me.
I thought about the cages. The warehouse. The things I'd seen.
And I realized, with a clarity that felt like a knife, that I was never going to be the same person I was before.
I was Monika Mire now. For better or worse.
And I was going to make it work.