Chapter 30
Elowen
The light of the operation theatre glows red, an indication that someone inside is battling death. My eyes are fixed on it. My mind is blank, exhausted from conjuring the worst that could happen. I’m no longer crying; there are no tears left to shed.
The light turns green, and I’m on my feet instantly. My legs carry me to the door as it opens from inside. A doctor steps out. I can’t find my voice, I’m trying to speak, but no sound comes.
“I’m sorry. We couldn’t save him,” he delivers the words in a professionally calm tone.
Death in that room is not new to him. But it is to me. My feet stumble backward. I’m forcing myself to move forward, but my body refuses.
“Hunter.” I cry out, finally, my voice breaking free from my burning throat.
My eyes snap open, and I jolt upright, dragging in desperate breaths to smother the suffocation.
With trembling hands, I reach for the tumbler on my bedside table, lift it to my lips, and drink.
The nightmare still plays in my head. I try to chase it away, wipe the tears from my face, and take more sips of cold water.
I can’t fall asleep at night, and whenever I do, all I see are nightmares of him dying, sometimes in a hospital, sometimes in my arms. I wake up like this every single night. It’s been this way for the past week.
One week has passed. One week since I came back from that forest. One week since Hunter nearly lost his life, and it was all because of me.
The men who attacked us were sent by Chris.
Hunter never told me that the very reason he and Logan got close to my family was to help Chris kill my dad, my uncle, Leo, and Zo.
All of this came out during the investigation my family conducted over the past few days, with Salvario’s help.
He knew more about Chris because Chris had held him captive to use his hacking knowledge.
Now Hunter is under my family’s watch, and Logan is missing.
It’s possible he got close to me with the intention of harming my family.
Hunter told me that wasn’t true, but I can’t fully trust him.
Maybe his memory was never gone either, and he’s been lying all along.
The truth can only be dragged out of him through torture.
A cold shiver snakes across my skin, raising every hair on my arms.
They’ll torture him once he’s recovered from his wound. My father promised me he wouldn’t kill him, but I can’t stop him from torturing him.
That night, after he lost consciousness, I called Logan and told him about the attack.
Within twenty minutes, their men arrived and took us to the hospital.
There, I dialed my dad’s number from Hunter’s phone and called him, telling him where I was, since he couldn’t trace Hunter’s phone to find the location.
It took Dad’s men three hours to reach us. I spent those three hours sitting outside the operating theatre, staring at the red light. Those hours have haunted me every day since. My mind drags me away from reality and back to them, even when I’m not asleep.
My therapist said it’s PTSD. She advised me to stay on medication for a few days to make it easier to cope.
It isn’t a long-term trauma response but a reaction to a single event, and the environment I’m in now is conducive to healing.
A few days of medication, followed by therapy, should help me recover completely.
The only flaw in her calculation is that my environment isn’t as perfect as it seems. My head is completely screwed, and the trauma of watching Hunter nearly die isn’t the only reason, there’s another way he has fucked me over.
I can’t move on from him.
Salvario is here, taking care of me, and yet all I can think about is Hunter. The guilt it brings is insufferable.
My mind compares every one of Salvario’s actions to Hunter’s without my permission, and whenever it does, I want to reach into my skull and gouge my sick brain out.
There are these voices that whisper his name every time Salvario stands before me.
Every time I hear his voice—which is slightly different from Hunter’s because of his Italian accent—Hunter’s voice echoes in my head.
Every time Salvario tries to touch me, my fucked-up mind reminds me that it was Hunter in his place just a few weeks ago.
I want to convince myself it’s because of guilt. I left him there, struggling between life and death.
I know he’s alive, but it changes nothing.
I left him in that operating room and came to San Diego with Dad’s men. The next day, Salvario told me he survived. Salvario is happy about it, because now he can kill him in the most painful way imaginable.
I lie down on my bed, turn my head toward the glass window, and stare absently at the bright moon until it blurs from my vision. Silent tears slide from my eyes, soaking into the pillow beneath my head.
The bed dips as Bruno climbs onto it. I’m not sobbing, but he must have sensed me crying and left his bed, where he was sleeping snuggled up with Rosie, to come here.
He licks the tears from the bridge of my nose and curls up against my chest. I hug him close, kissing his nose.
“Thank you, baby,” I whisper.
Dad had someone bring Rosie and Bruno from Naples to San Diego the day after I was kidnapped. After I came back, Dad, Mom, Ma, and Pa came here too. Mom and Dad left after three days, once I’d assured them I was perfectly fine. Ma and Pa left this evening.
The act of pretending to be normal comes naturally to me now.
My family isn’t easily convinced, but somehow I still make them believe I’m fine.
No one knows about the wrist-cutting incident, or they wouldn’t have bought any of it.
Even Salvario doesn’t know, Hunter knocked him unconscious right before he found me in my bathroom.
When they saw the wound on my wrist, I lied and told them I’d gotten it while fighting Hunter.
That intensifies their hatred for him. It’s better than them knowing how pathetic their daughter is.
Bruno licks my jaw with the tip of his tongue. I pat his head. “Are you missing him?”
He isn’t the same with Salvario as he was with Hunter.
He doesn’t like Salvario, which is strange, because dogs are supposed to never forget their masters.
He can’t be confusing them like I am. With Hunter, he and Rosie used to train for hours.
Now, he won’t even go near Salvario. Most of the time, he doesn’t react, but when Salvario sits on my bed, he turns fierce and lunges at him.
I’ve used that as an excuse to keep Salvario in another room.
Salvario had been staying in a hotel in San Diego. After I came here, he moved into Leo’s mansion. Since his dissociative identity is no longer present, my family no longer sees him as a threat.
During the weeks I was missing, they worked with him to find me, and now Dad and Leo regard him as a reliable, intelligent man. I don’t think they’ll bring him fully into their inner circle just yet, but I can see it happening over the months.
He stayed in my room one night, and then Bruno came in.
Now he’s in the room beside mine. It’s better this way.
With him so close, I live under a constant weight of guilt and self-loathing.
These tiresome emotions can lead me toward severe self-destruction, and then the worry of what my family will have to go through will add to my misery.
“Do you want to see him?”
He stares up at me.
“Hunter. Do you want to see Hunter?”
His tail wags.
I kiss his head. “I’m sorry, baby, but we can’t see him. He’s a closed chapter now.” I chuckle, tired and empty. “You must think I’m a crazy woman, asking you only to say no.” My already faint smile fades. “I think I’m going crazy.”
I run my fingers through the thick fur around his neck. “Will you still love me even if I lose my mind?”
He presses his snout against my nose.
The smile finds its way back. “I know you will.”
I massage around his neck until my fingers still on their own, and sleep pulls me under once again.
A knock on my door wakes me. Another morning where sleep has left me more exhausted than rested, but I drag myself up to open it.
Salvario stands outside with a cup of tea in his hand, steam rising from the surface.
It’s my morning herbal tea, prescribed by Lyn.
I have another blend for the night. This one is a deep yellow; the night one has a reddish hue.
She suggested Salvario bring me these, and he hasn't missed a single morning.
“Good morning, Princess.”
“Good morning.” My voice is groggy. I clear my throat, moving deeper into the room and settling on the couch instead of the bed, because he won’t be able to sit there. Bruno is already sitting there, watching him with a look that is anything but friendly.
He moves to settle on the same couch, close to me, but Bruno’s sharp bark stops him. He chuckles, shakes his head, and retreats to the side couch, placing the tea on the table in front of me.
“He’s still mad at me. God knows how long he’ll sulk.”
I smile, making sure my lips form something that looks natural. “You know he’s stubborn.”
“You didn’t sleep well last night either.”
“It was fine.” I force more energy into my words.
“Why don’t you leave Bruno and Rosie here tonight and come sleep in my room?” He leans closer and takes my hand in his warm one. “I don’t understand why you need to stay away from me to heal. You know I hate any distance between us.”
I look down at the cup of tea, its steam already faded. “I just want to stay alone,” I murmur, barely moving my lips.
I lift my gaze to his. The same gray stares back at me, and yet a different man looks out from behind it.
His eyes hold warmth and love too, but they aren’t the same.
The warmth in them was born from the fire in his soul, the one that used to burn bright and fierce whenever he came near me.
The love in those eyes was obsessive, nothing could dilute that obsession.
It was the obsession of a man who knew no life other than the one I had breathed into him.
That’s how Salvario used to look at you, like you’re his reason for living. And he no longer looks at you that way. But someone else does. The ugly voices that have made my head their home whisper.
Shut up. That’s not true. Salvario loves me the same.
“Hey, what happened?” Salvario squeezes my hand.
“Huh?” I snap out of my head. “Nothing.”
His frown deepens. “Tell me what’s bothering you, Princess. You know it makes me feel so fucking helpless when you won’t let me see what’s troubling you so I can get rid of it.”
The guilt surges up, filling my throat with its familiar lump. I don’t deserve this man’s love and care. He’s so worried about me, and I’m fucking comparing him to another man. How disgusting is that? How fucking disgusting am I? I’m the worst woman he could have loved.
His gaze stays fixed on me, his brow knit with concern. The self-loathing must be written all over my face. I can’t hide it, it’s too fierce to conceal.
I pull my hand from his grip and avert my eyes. My fists clench tight, along with my jaw.
Don’t think. Shut down all the thoughts, I command myself, looking around the room to flood my brain with sensory input so it stays too busy to spiral. Slowly, my jaw and fists unclench, and I look back at Salvario.
“I think I need to get out for a while. I’ve been cooped up at home all week. I’ll go on a girls’ day out with Lyn and Avi.”
He nods. “That’s a good idea. You should go.”
I take my tea and drink it down in one gulp. It’s lukewarm now.
I rise from the couch. “I’ll ask Lyn and Avi after breakfast if they’re free.”
I avoid any further eye contact and walk to the bathroom.