Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHASE
Six Weeks Later
Tyler's recovery is slow but steady. The doctors are cautiously optimistic, the fractures are healing, and he's been off the ventilator for five weeks now. The medication for the pain makes him more drowsy, but he's awake more often, though still weak and in considerable pain.
Ivan and I have barely left the hospital. I sleep in the uncomfortable chair beside his bed, eat cafeteria food, and spend my days watching him heal while my laptop sits open on my knees.
I'm writing my book. The protagonist uses clinical knowledge and personal observation to create a profile so detailed, so intimate, that the line between professional analysis and personal captivation blurs completely.
It's cathartic, and hopefully it's profitable if I can get enough interest.
Noah spends a large block of time with me and sometimes disappears for a few hours.
I know what he's doing. Ivan told me during one of his visits that Noah has been doing more interrogation for the clubhouse and occasionally for Dima. His complete emotional detachment and quickness has made him valuable, but he is doing it to deal with the fact he hasn’t had me to himself for weeks.
I appreciate that he hasn’t said anything, but Noah won’t understand my attachment to my brother, respecting my decision anyway.
"He's terrifying," Ivan said quietly one evening while Tyler slept. "Even Lev is impressed.”
I should be disturbed by this, horrified that the man I love has found his calling in torture and death.
But I'm not. I'm curious about it and want to write down every detail Noah shares from the psychology of breaking someone, to the different ways the violence manifests itself.
Evidential proof from the darkest source imaginable.
Tyler stirs in his bed, his eyes opening slowly. "Chase?"
"I'm here." I close my laptop and move to his side. "How are you feeling? You’ve slept a lot today."
"Like I got hit by a car." He manages a weak smile. "Which I did."
"The doctors say you're healing well. Not long now until you'll be able to go home."
"I can’t wait." He looks at me, his expression serious despite the pain medication. "You look tired."
"I'm fine."
"You're not fine. You're living in a hospital." He reaches for my hand. "Chase, you don't have to stay here every day. I'm okay, Ivan is here,” he says as he nods over to his devoted man next to him. “You should go home and be with Noah."
"Noah understands."
"No he doesn’t, go be with him." Tyler squeezes my hand weakly and I don't argue because he gets it.
"I'm writing a book," I tell him, changing the subject. "A psychological thriller."
His eyes brighten slightly. "Yeah? What's it about?"
"A psychiatrist who studies psychopaths. Gets too close to one and loses himself in the process."
Tyler studies my face for a long moment. "Art imitating life?"
"Something like that."
“It will be a best seller,” Ivan says and I laugh at his optimism.
Noah arrives an hour later, his appearance immaculate despite whatever he's been doing. He greets Tyler warmly, asks about his recovery, which I can tell he has practiced.
"How's the manuscript?" he asks quietly.
"Almost finished with the first draft."
"And the protagonist?"
"Completely lost and utterly devoted."
Noah's hand finds mine, his fingers threading through mine. "Sounds familiar."
"It should be."
We sit in comfortable silence with Tyler and Ivan, as Tyler drifts in and out of sleep, and I realize this is what our life has become. Noah doing the dark work he was always meant to do and me by his side finding my own way.
And I'm okay with that.
More than okay.
I'm exactly where I'm meant to be.