Chapter Two #3
"Security," Kade said into the device, never taking his dead, icy eyes off Marcy. "We have an unauthorized individual trespassing on the eighth floor VIP wing. Have her removed immediately. If she resists, contact the Ashford PD and have her charged with harassment."
Marcy physically recoiled, as if he had struck her. The ruthless finality in his voice shattered the last, desperate hope to which she had clung. He really hated her. He truly, deeply despised her.
Within seconds, the elevator pinged again, and two burly hospital security guards stepped out, flanked by one of Kade’s personal detail.
"Ma'am, you need to come with us," one of the guards said, grabbing Marcy firmly by the upper arm.
"Let me go!" Marcy sobbed, struggling uselessly against the man’s grip as he began to drag her backward toward the elevator. "Kade, please! You have to listen to her! Just let me stay!"
Cruz Tate watched her being manhandled toward the doors with an expression of boredom. He didn't blink. He didn't flinch.
As the guards forced Marcy into the elevator, Kinsley burst out of the adjacent stairwell, chest heaving, her raincoat dripping wet onto the floor. She saw Marcy being restrained and let out a furious scream, launching herself toward the guards.
"Take your hands off her! Let her go!" Kinsley shrieked, batting at the security detail with her wet umbrella.
"Kins, stop!" Marcy cried, using her free hand to grab her friend before she could get arrested. "Stop. It's over. They don't want us here."
The guards shoved Marcy into the elevator car. Kinsley stumbled in after her, turning back to glare with murderous intent at the assembly of families.
"You are all going to regret this," Kinsley spat, her voice echoing in the hallway. "When she wakes up, you are all going to look like the monsters you are!"
Kade didn't respond. He simply reached out and pressed the button to close the elevator doors, effectively erasing them from his sight.
When the doors sealed shut, Marcy collapsed against the back wall, sliding down to the floor, wrapping her arms around her knees, and finally breaking down into deep, racking sobs.
Kinsley dropped to the floor beside her, wrapping her arms tightly around Marcy’s shaking shoulders, resting her chin on her friend’s wet hair.
"I'll wait," Kinsley whispered fiercely, her own tears mixing with the rain on her face. "I'll wait in the lobby reception. I don't care how long it takes. When Gabriela tells them the truth, I am going to make Cruz and Kade get down on their damn knees and beg you for forgiveness."
Upstairs, the double doors of the ICU suite finally clicked open. The lead neurologist, Dr. Aris Thorne, stepped out into the hallway, pulling off his surgical mask. He looked exhausted, but there was a brilliant, undeniable smile on his face.
"Mr. and Mrs. Monroe," Dr. Thorne said quietly, his voice carrying over the sudden, breathless silence of the families. "The sedation has fully cleared her system. Her vitals are stabilizing rapidly."
Camille let out a choked, desperate sob, gripping Arthur’s arm to keep from collapsing. "Is she... is she awake?"
"She is," Dr. Thorne nodded. "She's disoriented, of course. The muscular atrophy and the neurological bridging will take time. But she is conscious. She is responsive."
A collective wave of ecstatic, relief washed over the hallway. Edward Lancaster buried his face in his hands, weeping silently, while Sherry embraced Camille.
Kade and Cruz exchanged a look. For the first time in two years, the impenetrable steel that encased their hearts fractured, revealing a blinding, brilliant light. The nightmare was over. Their world was returning to its proper axis.
"Can we see her?" Kade asked, his voice rough with an emotion he hadn't allowed himself to feel in twenty-four months.
"Only two at a time for now. Do not overwhelm her," Dr. Thorne cautioned, stepping aside.
Arthur and Camille went first, rushing into the room with muffled cries of joy. Kade and Cruz followed slowly behind, standing near the doorway, their eyes fixed on the hospital bed.
The room was bathed in the soft, gray light of the rainy afternoon.
And there she was.
Gabriela Monroe looked small, fragile, and achingly pale amidst the white hospital linens. The tubes that had kept her alive for two years were mostly gone. Her golden hair was lank, her cheekbones sharp, but she was still, unequivocally, the ideal.
Slowly, as if lifting a weight, Gabriela fluttered her eyelashes. She turned her head, her beautiful, unfocused eyes drifting past her weeping mother, past her stoic father, until they landed on the doorway.
Her gaze locked onto Kade and Cruz.
A tiny, weak flutter of a smile touched Gabriela’s pale lips. Her voice, unused for two years, was nothing more than a dry, raspy breath, but in the silence of the room, it was the loudest sound in the world.
"Kade," she breathed.
Kade Lancaster closed his eyes, a single, rogue tear escaping and tracking down his cheek. He stepped into the room, leaving the darkness of the past two years behind him.
His golden girl was back. And nothing, and no one, would ever hurt her again.