Chapter Thirty-Six
Greyson
Iam the physical embodiment of pain. It radiates through my muscles, ligaments, and down to the marrow of my bones.
A stasis of sheer agony becomes my home for what feels like an eternity.
Nothing penetrates through the pain except for a single thought—Scarlett.
I don’t know where she is or if she’s hurt.
I don’t even know if she’s alive. A clawing need to get to her, hold her, is my only tether to life.
It’s the only reason I endure the pain rather than allowing myself to slip into a void of nothingness.
Gradually, over time, the sharp, stinging, searing agony dulls into a slightly more manageable yet pounding ache. Then, the ache itself dulls, and awareness begins to return to me—one drip at a time.
The last time I woke up in a hospital after a long bout of unconsciousness was when Scarlett poisoned me and escaped.
When I manage to force my eyes open this time, the fear I felt nearly a year ago returns.
Only, in this instance, I’m not afraid of Scarlett running away.
I’m terrified of her escaping into a much more final end.
She was on her knees, bleeding from her head, eyes foggy when I got to her.
She looked like she was hanging onto life by a thin thread.
At the time, I wasn’t faring much better, which prohibited me from taking care of her and checking her wounds.
I don’t know what happened to her in my absence, while I was fighting off the men who came to invade the Nighthawks compound—I only know that when I got to my office, there was a corpse beside Luther, who was strangling the life from Scarlett.
I’m alone in a sterile, empty, fucking lonely hospital room.
There’s a clip on my finger and a few stickers on my bare chest, connected to a monitor beside me.
My entire torso is covered with bandages patching up the bullets that penetrated around my vest—I don’t know how long I’ve been out, but it’s long enough that I manage to sit up without ripping open any stitches and killing myself.
As soon as I start tearing the sticky pads off myself, an alarm goes off. My mind flashes back to the alarm that announced Luther breaking into the compound, and I wince. A desperate need to find Scarlett overwhelms me. She has to be alive. If she isn’t…
I’ll say goodbye to Max and my unit before joining her in whatever life follows this one.
I manage to swing my legs over the side of the bed, groaning at the many aches and pangs in my body, just as the door to my room opens and Doctor Ross walks in, shortly followed by Cain.
“Ah, you’re awake,” Ross says with a nod. “Good. You were out for so long, we weren’t sure you’d make it.”
“Where’s Scarlett?” I rasp.
Ross exchanges a glance with Cain. My very soul rebels at the severity of their gazes.
“You’ve been out for two weeks,” Cain says. “Blood loss and a fuck ton of bullets put you out of commission for a nice, long while. Lucky for you, most of the damage incurred to Headquarters during the fight was cleared in your absence—”
“Where the fuck is my woman?” I shout. I'm no better than a feral beast right now; I'll stand in the way of anything that gets between me and Scarlett. Whether it's one of these bastards, or life itself.
“In our newly constructed ICU,” Ross responds carefully. “She had an acute subdural hematoma. We were hoping it’d resolve on its own, but it showed signs of rupture about two days ago, so we went ahead and operated. Her brother flew in the best neurosurgeon in the world for the operation—”
A hematoma? Jesus Christ, those have a 50% mortality rate. I’ve seen more than one man die after nasty concussions.
“Will she survive? Is she going to be okay?”
Ross pauses. Looks to Cain for instruction. Cain nods his head, silently giving permission.
The news must be very fucking bad if Ross doesn’t want to divulge it.
“There are good signs,” Ross says carefully.
“The hematoma ruptured mid-surgery, so Scarlett wasn’t expected to survive more than a few minutes, but she pulled through.
She’s unconscious, but everything we’ve seen so far indicates a good chance of survival.
That being said, we won’t know anything for certain until she wakes up… if she wakes up.”
“She’ll fucking wake up,” I say. I don’t know if she’ll wake up in this life, or if I’ll end up following her into the next one, but there’s no scenario where we don’t end up together again. I won’t allow it.
I will bend the rules of nature, life, and death, to stay with her. But, fucking hell… if my last moments in this world are punctuated by Scarlett’s loss, I don’t think my soul will ever recover.
“I want to see her.”
“I don’t think that’s advisable—”
“I’m fucking seeing her,” I cut Ross off. “Ask me if I give a shit about your advice.”
Ross turns his head to look at Cain again, but I interject. “Don’t look at him. Look at me. I don’t require his permission, Ross. In case you forgot, I’m second in command, and we’re discussing my fucking woman.”
“Give the man what he wants,” Cain says after a belated pause, offering me a nod.
Ross sighs. “Alright. Her brother’s with her right now, sitting at her bedside. He hasn’t left the position since she came out of surgery. I have to warn you… the sight of her could be jarring.”
Minutes later, armed with a walking cane and a pounding headache, I realize just how right the doctor is.
Jarring barely begins to describe Scarlett’s state.
There’s a white bandage around her head, and a breathing tube in her mouth, hooked up to a machine that’s keeping her alive. Her eyes are closed, and she lacks the luster of life. Her skin is pale. Her body is still—too still.
The anger, pain, and fear that pours out of my soul, invading every cell, is crippling.
I nearly fall to my fucking knees at the sight of my Scarlett, barely clinging to life.
Seeing her like this is a blow to every fiber of my being.
It’s disorienting. It’s devastating. It fractures whatever’s left of my soul.
“Looks like you pulled through.” Eric’s sitting beside Scarlett in a chair, elbow on the armrest, chin listing heavily on his hand. Exhaustion’s written into every line of his face, but his eyes are open and alert. His mind’s fighting his body, staying awake only for his sister.
Any doubt I had in their connection goes up in a cloud of smoke. This man loves my Flower fiercely, which is the only reason I tolerate having another person near her right now.
“Sorry to disappoint,” I quip.
He waves a tired hand, straightening in his seat and facing me.
Similarities between his appearance and Scarlett’s, ones that were previously lost on me, jump out.
They have a similar shade of hair. The same eyes.
Their facial structures are a bit different…
Eric has Luther’s aquiline nose and a stubborn jaw, whereas Scarlett’s features are more delicate.
“I got here with medical backup just as she passed out,” Eric says. “Both of you were minutes from death. You’re welcome.”
If he saved my life, he is owed a thank you… only problem is, with my reason for living hooked up to a machine keeping her breathing, I don’t much value my life right now.
Still, I say, “Thanks.”
“Yup.”
I take the spare seat by Eric, joining him in staring at Scarlett.
“What’s her prognosis?”
“No way to know until she wakes up.” He swallows hard. “If she wakes up.”
“And if she does?” I ask quietly.
He shrugs, but I see the turmoil swimming in his eyes.
“She might not have any memories left. Doc thinks it’s likely that her short-term memories of the last year or two will be most heavily impacted, if she does have any memories.
Aside from that… her motor skills might be gone.
She could be paralyzed. It’s… fuck.” He shakes his head, jaw clenching. “I failed her.”
“We both did.” If she dies, this is on both of us. Neither of us got to her soon enough.
“You didn’t. Luther would’ve killed her. You enabled her to kill him.” He looks away sharply. “She put four bullets in him. I promised I’d put three in him. One for her, one for me, and one for our mother. She added an extra for you.”
My eyes squeeze shut. My brave, strong girl fought back and won. She’s the reason Cain had a fortress to return for, the reason I’m alive. She’s… everything.
And I might never see her evergreen eyes again.