53. Laila
53
LAILA
I’m still mired in the muddy waters between consciousness and unconsciousness when I hear a gasp. “She’s awake.”
Someone laughs. “You might wanna give her some space, babe.”
I recognize the voices, but I can’t put names or faces to them. The effort is exhausting. I want to slip right back under the surface of my mind.
I’m on my way to doing exactly that when I feel a hand on my face. “She doesn’t need space. Not from me.”
I blink my eyes open, cringing against the bright hospital lights. Someone flicks them off, and I’m about to thank them when a face fills my vision.
She’s smiling down at me. Somehow, I find the energy to smile back. “You were supposed to meet me for lunch.”
My voice is hoarse. I’m not sure she can even understand me, but Guilia snorts and squeezes my hand like she’s afraid I’ll disappear. “If you ever get a printed invitation from me again, toss it in the trash and text me instead. I’m a twenty-first century girl.”
“Noted.”
She kisses the back of my hand and looks over her shoulder. “Enzo, fetch Arsen. He’ll want to be here.”
As soon as Enzo is gone, she lowers her voice. “Your husband has been a real worrywart. The doctors told him you just needed rest, but he’s probably down the hall funding new research studies as we speak. Hell, he might be running the studies himself.”
“How long have I been asleep?”
“Sixteen hours. How are you feeling?”
“Like I could sleep for another sixteen hours,” I joke. But I take a moment to think about it. Other than the stiffness in my legs and a slight headache, I feel fine.
“You should feel badass,” Guilia says with a laugh. “I heard all about your heroic exploits. I’m impressed. I knew you were tough, but I didn’t know you were action-movie tough.”
I blink and see my father’s empty face… the blood puddling around his body on the floor…
“I didn’t have another choice,” I say quietly.
As if she can read my dark thoughts, Guilia pats my hand. “I was tempted to build a shrine in the exact place where you went all Tomb Raider on Charles and Jasper, but Enzo thinks we should raze the whole thing instead. He’s planning on buying the property and tearing it down. We’re going to turn it into something nice. A garden, maybe.”
Some invisible weight I didn’t know I was carrying is lifted off my shoulders. “That’s good to hear.”
The door opens, and I know he’s here before I even see him.
Guilia steps out of the way without a word, and then he’s in front of me, holding me. Warmth floods my body as I cling to him.
“ Roza ,” Arsen whispers, his lips fluttering against mine for the briefest moment. “You’re okay. You’re okay.”
“And she’s got her wits about her,” Guilia informs him from the corner where she’s retreated. “You have nothing to worry about, Arsen. Not even a concussion can slow down our girl.”
Enzo clears his throat. “Guilia, maybe we should clear out. Give Arsen and Laila some privacy?”
“If we must,” Guilia sighs. Her hand grazes my arm. “You are incredible, Laila. I’m glad you’re safe.”
As soon as our friends are gone, Arsen slides into bed beside me. He coils around me, tucking me into his body just like I want. His taut muscles, the steely grip with which he holds me—everything about him is so damn solid. It anchors me to reality, to the future we’ve assured ourselves by taking care of the men who tried to rob us of it.
“How are you?” I ask, reveling in the feel of him.
“I was fine the moment I knew you were.”
“Spare me the tough guy talk, Arsen.” I pull back a little so I can give him a good once-over. “No wounds, injuries?” I tug on the hem of his shirt. “No bullets lodged in your sternum?”
“None whatsoever. I got out of that building with a couple of scrapes and bruises. Nothing I can’t walk off in a day.” Then he shakes his head, a small, wondrous smile playing across his lips.
“What?” I ask. “What’s so funny?”
“Every time I think you can’t amaze me more, you do.” He twists a lock of hair around his finger, tugging on it like he wants to make sure I’m real. “You were held at gunpoint by two raving madmen and you’re still worried about me.”
“You’re my husband. Of course I’m worried.”
Grinning, he dips his lips to mine. “How are you feeling?”
“I told Guilia already: I feel fine. A little headache but?—”
“Not out here,” he says, his tone softening at the edges. He pats my heart. “In here. What you did back there… It was big.”
“I killed a man,” I whisper, meeting his gaze. “I killed my own father.”
Saying it out loud drives the reality home, and I blow out a harsh breath.
“You did what you had to do,” he reminds me.
“I know. Would you think less of me if I said I don’t really feel anything other than relief?”
His eyes flare for a moment. And my stomach sinks.
He thinks I’m a monster.
Then he touches his finger beneath my chin, forcing my eyes to his. “ Roza , there’s no one on this planet that thinks more highly of you than I do.”
My chin wobbles, but I’ve done more than enough crying for a lifetime. “I think it just hit me at that moment… It was either him or me. And after everything he put me and Mom through, I couldn’t let it be him who survived.”
“Damn right.”
I squeeze his hand. “How about you? You did something pretty big back there, too.”
Arsen sighs softly. “That was necessary, too. I should’ve done it sooner. It was either Jasper or my family, and there was no competition. I will never compromise your safety like that again.”
“You didn’t, Arsen.”
“I did,” he insists. “The moment I decided to let Jasper back into my life—and by association, your life—I put you at risk. From now on, it’s inner circle only. No one else gets trust handed to them on a silver platter.”
“What about Enzo and Guilia?” I venture. “Do they count as the inner circle?”
“After you lost consciousness, I called Dominik and Gedeon. They arrived with Enzo, who’d apparently refused to leave without giving us backup.”
I smile. “He’s a good friend.”
Arsen shrugs nonchalantly. “He’s a good ally. ‘Friend’ is a long ways away.”
I chuckle and roll my eyes. “Boys. So unwilling to be emotional with each other.”
Arsen silences my laughter with his lips. He only pulls away when the doctor enters, carrying a clipboard.
“Mrs. Adamov, I’m happy to say there’s no medical reason for us to keep you with us any longer. I’m here to sign your discharge papers. You’re cleared to leave.” He makes a show of signing off on the clipboard. “The bruise on your forehead did require three stitches. I’m afraid it’ll leave a scar.”
He looks baffled at the smile on my face. Arsen wraps an arm around my shoulder and presses a kiss to my temple.
“That’s okay, Doc,” he murmurs cheerfully. “In this family, we don’t mind scars.”