Chapter 28
twenty-eight
Zach
The room is too quiet.
Not silent, there are sounds, the steady rhythm of the monitors, the soft hum of machines, the occasional shift of movement from somewhere down the hall, but everything inside this space feels muted, like the world has been turned down to something softer than it should be, like even noise knows better than to disturb her.
I stand at the foot of the bed and don’t move.
I haven’t moved properly since they brought us in here.
Not really.
Because if I do, if I step too far away or shift my focus for even a second, it feels like something might change, like I’ll miss something important, like she’ll wake up and I won’t be right here to see it.
So I stay.
I watch.
I count the rise and fall of her chest without meaning to, my eyes tracking every breath, every slight movement, every indication that she’s still here.
Still breathing.
Still alive.
The machines do most of the work for me, numbers flickering, lines rising and falling in steady rhythms that I’ve memorized without trying, and still it doesn’t feel real.
She looks too still.
Too quiet.
Too far away.
Elijah hasn’t moved at all.
He sits beside her, close enough that their arms brush, one hand wrapped around hers like he’s anchoring her there, like if he lets go she might slip somewhere he can’t follow.
His thumb moves over her skin in slow, repetitive strokes that don’t seem conscious, something his body is doing on its own while everything else in him stays locked, focused entirely on her face.
He hasn’t looked away.
Not once.
Not since we walked in.
Jackson is on the other side of her, leaning close, his hand moving gently through her hair, smoothing it back from her face, tucking it behind her ear, undoing the mess it had been left in after everything that happened.
Every few minutes, he leans down and presses a kiss to her temple, her cheek, her forehead, like he needs to remind himself she’s real, like he needs the contact just as much as she does.
“Come on, sweetheart,” he murmurs quietly, his voice softer than I’ve ever heard it. “You’ve slept long enough. You’re going to wake up and tell me I look like shit, yeah? That’s what you do. You insult me and then pretend you didn’t.”
There’s a small break in his voice.
He swallows it down.
Keeps going.
“You don’t get to skip that part. I’m waiting.”
She doesn’t move.
Doesn’t react.
And the longer it stays like that, the heavier the room feels.
I drag a hand over my face slowly, my fingers catching on dried blood I haven’t cleaned yet, and I don’t stop to fix it. I don’t want to leave the room long enough to wash it off. I don’t want to step away from her at all.
My gaze drops to her stomach without meaning to.
Lower abdomen.
That’s where the doctor said.
That’s where...
My chest tightens.
Pregnant.
The word still doesn’t sit properly.
It keeps catching on everything else.
On the image of her on that floor.
On the blood.
On the way her body didn’t move.
And now this.
Six weeks.
That means she didn’t even know.
Or maybe she did.
Maybe she was going to tell us. The thought lands wrong. Heavy. Sharp.
“What are you thinking?”
Jackson’s voice pulls me back.
I look up.
He’s watching me now, his hand still in her hair, his eyes tired, red, but sharper than before, like he’s forcing himself to stay present.
I shake my head slightly.
“Nothing,” I say, but it comes out too quickly, too tight to be believable.
He doesn’t push it.
Doesn’t need to.
Because we’re all thinking the same thing.
Everything that almost happened.
Everything that could have been taken from us.
Elijah shifts.
Just slightly.
It’s the first real movement he’s made since we got here.
He lifts her hand a fraction higher, pressing it closer to his chest, his head dipping just enough that his forehead brushes against her knuckles for a second before he stills again.
“I’m here,” he murmurs quietly, the words meant only for her. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Something tightens in my chest.
Because I know he means it.
Because I know he would sit here for days if that’s what it took.
A quiet knock sounds at the door. All three of us look up at once.
It opens slowly.
Lucian steps in first, his presence calm, controlled in that way that always feels deliberate, his eyes taking in the room in a single sweep before shifting slightly to the side.
Evelyn steps in behind him. And she stops.
The moment she sees Lia. The moment she sees us. The blood. The stillness.
Her hand comes up to her mouth without thinking, her eyes widening as everything lands at once.
“Oh my God,” she whispers, the words breaking apart as she takes a step forward. “Lia!”
She hesitates near Jackson’s side, like she doesn’t know if she’s allowed to get closer, like she’s afraid of what she’ll see if she does.
“Is she...” she starts, her voice shaking. “Is she okay?”
Jackson nods quickly, too quickly.
“She’s alive,” he says, like he needs to say it out loud. “She made it through surgery. We just...she hasn’t woken up yet.”
Evelyn nods, her eyes filling, her hand pressing tighter over her mouth as she looks down at Lia.
“She’s going to wake up,” she whispers, more to herself than to us.
Lucian moves further into the room, his steps quiet, measured, and he doesn’t go straight to the bed. He stops just slightly behind Elijah instead, his presence there solid, grounded, like he’s placing himself between what’s happened and what comes next.
He doesn’t speak.
Not at first.
Elijah looks at him.
Just once.
A silent exchange passes between them, something I can’t fully read but can feel all the same.
Then Elijah’s voice comes. Low. Controlled.
“Is he at the warehouse?”
Lucian nods.
“He is.”
The air in the room shifts. Subtly. But enough.
“You need to stay here,” Elijah says.
Lucian’s gaze sharpens slightly.
“What do you mean?”
Elijah doesn’t look away from Lia.
“I mean I’m not sitting here waiting while he’s still breathing.”
The words land heavy.
Jackson straightens.
“Elijah—”
“I need to finish this,” he says, and there’s something in his voice now that wasn’t there before, something quieter but far more dangerous. “I need to know it’s done before she wakes up.”
“She might wake up,” Jackson pushes back immediately. “You’re going to leave and...what if she wakes up and you’re not here?”
Elijah’s hand tightens around Lia’s slightly.
“I’m not letting her wake up knowing he’s still out there,” he says. “Not after this. Not after what he did.”
The room holds that.
Evelyn looks between us, confusion and fear mixing in her expression, and I can feel the shift in Jackson beside her, the moment he realizes we shouldn’t be having this conversation in front of her.
“Come outside,” he says quietly.
We move.
Reluctantly.
Stepping out into the hallway, the door closing softly behind us, leaving Evelyn alone with Lia.
The second it shuts, the tension snaps tighter.
“You want to leave her right now?” Jackson demands, his voice low but sharp. “You want to walk out while she’s like this?”
Elijah finally looks at him properly.
“I’m not leaving her,” he says. “I’m making sure the man who did this to my wife never gets another breath.”
“She’s not just your wife,” I cut in, the words coming out before I think them through, before I soften them. “You don’t get to act like this only happened to you.”
Elijah’s gaze shifts to me.
Sharp.
Measuring.
“She is my wife,” he says.
“And she’s ours,” I fire back immediately, my chest tightening as everything I’ve been holding in pushes up at once. “He didn’t just take her from you. He took her from all of us. He put her in that position. He...”
My voice catches.
I push through it.
“He risked her life,” I say, quieter now but no less intense. “He risked the life of our child.”
Lucian goes still.
Elijah’s eyes flick to him briefly.
“Is she pregnant?” Lucian asks.
Elijah’s jaw tightens.
“Yes.”
The word lands heavy.
“We didn’t know,” he adds, quieter now. “She’s about six weeks.”
Lucian swears under his breath.
Jackson drags a hand through his hair again, pacing once before stopping.
“I don’t want her waking up alone,” he says, his voice breaking slightly. “I don’t want her waking up and we’re not there...”
“She won’t be alone,” Lucian says, calm, steady. “Evelyn and I will stay. The warehouse is thirty minutes from here. If anything changes, we call you, you’re back before it matters.”
Elijah nods once.
“I’m going,” he says.
There’s no hesitation in it.
No doubt.
Jackson looks at him for a second.
Then exhales sharply.
“I’m coming too,” he says. “He doesn’t get to walk away from this. Not after—” his voice breaks, anger and grief colliding in it. “Elijah, she fucking died in my arms. I’m not letting that go.”
Silence hangs for half a second.
Then Elijah nods.
Lucian reaches into his pocket, pulling out his keys and holding them out.
“Take my car,” he says. “It’s out the front.”
Elijah takes them.
I don’t hesitate.
I don’t think.
I just turn and push the door back open, stepping inside again.
Lia hasn’t moved.
She looks exactly the same.
Still.
Quiet.
Like she’s somewhere we can’t reach yet.
I walk to her slowly, my chest tightening with every step, and when I reach her, I lean down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, my hand coming up to rest against her cheek.
“I’m going to fix this,” I murmur softly. “I’m not letting anything like this ever happen to you again. I swear to you, I will keep you safe. You and...”
My voice catches.
I swallow hard.
“You and our baby.”
The word feels strange.
Heavy.
Real.
I press another kiss to her skin.
Then step back.
Elijah leans in next, his mouth close to her ear, his voice too low for me to hear, something meant only for her.
Jackson follows, brushing his fingers through her hair again before pressing a soft kiss to her lips.
“We’ll be right back, sweetheart,” he whispers. “You just wake up, yeah? You wake up and we’ll be right here.”
I look at her one last time.
Then I turn and follow them out.