Chapter 39
Russ
ICU smells like antiseptic and exhaustion.
The lights are dimmer here.
Softer.
Machines hum behind closed doors while nurses move through the hall in quiet rubber-soled footsteps.
A nurse leads me to Olivia’s room, then stops outside the door.
“She’s still heavily sedated,” she says gently.
I barely nod.
My hand closes around the door handle.
And the second I walk inside—
everything in me fractures.
Olivia lies motionless beneath stark white blankets.
Too pale.
Too still.
Bandages disappear beneath her hospital gown. Clear tubes run from her arms to hanging IV bags. Oxygen rests beneath her nose while the monitor beside the bed marks every heartbeat with steady green flashes.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
The sound should calm me.
Instead it reminds me how close I came to losing her.
I move toward the bed slowly, like the room itself might shatter if I breathe too hard.
“Hey, sweetheart.”
My voice comes out wrecked.
No response.
Of course not.
I reach for her hand anyway.
Her skin is cool against mine, but warmer than it was back at the compound.
Thank God.
I sink into the chair beside her bed and hold on tighter.
“I’m here.”
The words feel different now.
Back there, I could fight.
Shoot.
Break down doors.
Kill anyone who touched her.
But this?
This is helplessness.
And I hate it so much my chest burns with it.
I glance at the monitors again, like staring hard enough might force them to keep her alive.
“They got Hannah and Stephen out,” I tell her quietly. “Two of the kids too.”
My thumb brushes across her knuckles.
“You were right. They needed us there.”
The ventilator in the next room hisses softly through the wall.
Olivia doesn’t move.
Doesn’t squeeze my hand back.
Nothing.
Fear crawls higher up my throat.
I lean forward, elbows braced against my knees, refusing to let go of her.
“You’re gonna wake up and tell me how stubborn I am,” I murmur. “Probably tell me I should’ve listened to you sooner.”
My mouth almost twitches.
Almost.
Then it’s gone.
Because she still isn’t answering.
The silence presses harder.
Heavier.
I lower my head for a second, staring at our joined hands.
At the bruises on hers.
The cuts across her knuckles.
Proof she fought until the very end.
Emotion wedges sharp beneath my ribs.
“I didn’t fight my way across the world just to lose you in a hospital room.”
My throat tightens hard enough to hurt.
This time I let it.
No walls.
No armor.
Just her.
“I’m not done with you yet,” I whisper. “We still have a whole life waiting for us.”
The monitor continues its steady rhythm.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
I bring her hand to my forehead and close my eyes.
And for the first time since this nightmare started—
I pray.
“Stay with me, Olivia.”