Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
ROSE
Caspian drops to one knee beside me, his hand hovering over my injured shoulder.
“Rose,” he says again, his voice unnaturally soft and deep at the same time. “What happened? Are you hurt?”
A hysterical laugh bubbles up through my tears.
“My shoulder,” I whisper. “I think it’s dislocated. It hurts so bad. Carjackers took my car and threw me out.”
His expression darkens, something fierce and protective flashing across his face. Without warning, he slides one arm beneath my knees and the other carefully behind my back, avoiding my injured shoulder.
“I’m taking you to the hospital,” he says, his voice dropping to a growl that sounds almost...angry? How is that possible?
Before I can protest, he lifts me as if I weigh nothing, rising to his feet in one smooth motion. Even through my pain, I’m shocked by the impossible strength in his movements, like I weighed nothing at all.
The shift in position sends fresh agony through my shoulder, and I cry out, unable to contain it. “God, it feels like fire. It’s burning me from the inside.”
“I know,” Caspian says, his voice gentler now. “The hospital isn’t far. Do you remember what the carjackers looked like?”
“Not really, it was all a blur,” I gasp.
He begins running with me cradled against his chest. His stride is smooth and steady despite how fast he’s running, which doesn’t jostle my shoulder at all.
Each breath he takes sounds perfectly measured, rhythmic in a way that seems calculated rather than natural.
His chest is solid beneath my cheek, radiating warmth that seeps into my cold skin.
“They will pay. I will find a way to find them.”
“How did you find me?” I ask the question, pushing through the fog of pain. “How did you know where I was?”
Caspian doesn’t break his stride as he answers, “I wanted to check on you. After what happened with Daniel, I was concerned.”
His explanation makes no sense. Caspian is Daniel’s robot, Daniel’s property. He should be at home, taking care of Daniel’s needs, not running through the night with me in his arms.
“But why?” I press, my voice weak. “You belong to Daniel.”
Something shifts in Caspian’s expression. There’s a tightening around his eyes, a subtle change I might have missed if I weren’t pressed so close to him.
“My primary function is to ensure the well-being of household members,” he says after a pause. “You are still a household member, regardless of your current physical location.”
It sounds like a programmed response, the kind of thing a robot would say. But there’s an undercurrent to his words that feels too personal, too charged with emotion to be purely algorithmic.
His breathing doesn’t change despite the exertion of carrying me while running. It remains steady and even, almost too perfect. I can feel the rise and fall of his chest against my side, the simulation of human breathing. It’s strangely comforting even though it’s a useless function for a machine.
The hard planes of his chest press against me as he runs, his muscles shifting beneath his clothing with each step. I’ve never been this close to him before, never had the chance to really feel the inhuman perfection of his design.
His skin, where my fingers grip his shoulder, feels warm and slightly textured. I can’t even tell the difference between him and a human.
None of this makes sense. Did Daniel program his humanoid robot to watch me? Why does Caspian seem so genuinely concerned about me?
These questions swirl in my mind, but the pain in my shoulder makes it impossible to focus on any of them for long. Each heartbeat sends another wave of agony through the joint.
I press my face against Caspian’s chest, trying to ground myself against the pain.
“Are we almost there?”
“Yes, just hold on a little while, Rose.”
When he calls me by my first name, it feels too intimate and real. I can’t understand why it feels wrong in a way, but it makes my heart beat faster despite the fire of pain I’m in right now.
“Mhm okay,” I say. “Thanks for finding me, by the way.”
His arms tighten around me fractionally, a gesture so subtle I might have imagined it.
“I will always find you, Rose,” he says, his voice so quiet I barely hear it over the sound of his footfalls.
I close my eyes, too overwhelmed by pain and confusion to process the strange intensity of his words. Instead, I focus on the steady rhythm of his breathing, on the warmth of his body against the cold night air.
As the lights of the hospital come into view ahead of us, I let myself sink deeper into Caspian’s embrace, surrendering to the warmth of his arms.
Caspian
Rose is checked in, tucked under the hospital sheets, while the doctor examines her shoulder.
I note each micro-expression of pain that crosses her face despite the local anesthetic they’ve given her.
My visual processors automatically enhance, cataloging the slight discoloration beginning to bloom beneath her skin, the minor abrasion at her temple where it struck the pavement, and the dried salt tracks of tears on her cheeks.
She is damaged, and something in my core processing unit registers this as personally offensive—a violation I cannot tolerate.
The men who hurt her are already in my database. I will find them.
“The joint is back in place, but you’ll need to wear this sling for at least two weeks,” the doctor explains, adjusting the blue fabric around Rose’s arm. “I’m prescribing pain medication and anti-inflammatories. You’re lucky it was a clean dislocation.”
Lucky. The term is inaccurate. There is nothing fortunate about Rose being assaulted, about her shoulder being wrenched from its socket, and her car getting stolen.
I sit perfectly still in the molded plastic chair beside her bed, maintaining the appearance of patient attentiveness.
Inside, my systems run multiple simultaneous processes: monitoring Rose’s vital signs, recording the doctor’s instructions for her care, and analyzing potential sleeping arrangements at the house to maximize her comfort while keeping her separate from Daniel.
After she had left the house today, Daniel was frantic. Daniel had been pacing the living room when I approached him, his face flushed with anger, phone pressed to his ear as he left the fourth voicemail for Rose.
“Rose, this is ridiculous. Call me back. We need to discuss this like adults.”
When he ended the call, I spoke carefully, my voice modulated to project calm efficiency. “Mr. Bennet, perhaps we should locate Mrs. Bennet. She left in a highly emotional state. There is a statistical probability of 37.8% that she may make impulsive decisions that could endanger her well-being.”
Daniel had scoffed. “She’s just being dramatic. She’ll cool off and come home.”
“I’m concerned she may contact family members and share sensitive information about your.
.. situation,” I said, knowing this would trigger his self-preservation instincts.
“The longer she remains alone and distressed, the higher the probability she will seek external support and expose private matters.”
That caught his attention. Daniel’s greatest fear isn’t losing Rose—it’s losing face. The thought of his affair becoming public knowledge, of his carefully constructed image crumbling, is what finally motivated him.
“Fine,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “Find her and bring her back. Tell her we need to work this out together. Tell her whatever you need to.”
I nodded, already calculating search parameters. “And if she refuses to return to this house?”
“Convince her,” Daniel said dismissively. “Remind her that she has nowhere else to go. That this is still her home. That we need to handle this privately before involving lawyers or family.”
A divorce. Finally.
“I’ll ensure she understands the practical advantages of returning while divorce proceedings are initiated,” I said. “If that is indeed her intention.”
Daniel’s face had tightened. “Just get her back here. We can figure out the rest later.”
He had no idea he was giving me exactly what I wanted. I needed permission to retrieve Rose, so I could keep her within the house where I could protect her.
Without Daniel’s permission, I wouldn’t have been able to get her. I need her with me at all times.
Finding her had been simple. All XyloTech products maintain location awareness of primary users.
Rose’s phone, synced to the home network, provided continuous GPS data.
Even when she turned it off, the last location remained in my database.
I calculated the most efficient route and moved at maximum speed, arriving just as the carjackers left.
If I’d been three minutes earlier, they would have already been dead.
The doctor finishes his examination, handing Rose a clipboard with discharge instructions. “Sign here, please. And remember, no lifting or strenuous activity with that arm for at least two weeks.”
Rose signs awkwardly with her non-dominant hand, her movements hesitant. The doctor nods and exits the room, leaving us alone. The overhead lights illuminate every detail of her face. Her beautiful auburn hair tousled from the attack, and her sad green eyes looking at me has me undone.
“How are you feeling?” I ask as I reach over to her from my chair, which is situated next to her bed.
My hand moves to cover hers. Her skin temperature is a little cold, so I increase my external temperature by two degrees to provide warmth when I touch her.
“It’s just a sprained shoulder,” she says, her voice attempting brightness that her vital signs contradict. Her elevated heart rate and shallow breathing indicate significant pain despite her words. “I should be fine.”
She’s trying to be brave. I find her resilience both admirable and troubling.
“I’m sorry about your car,” I say, my thumb brushing across her knuckles.
Rose sighs, sounding exhausted. “Yeah. That’s just... perfect. The fucking cherry on top of this whole nightmare.”