chapter 59
Sleep came and went in broken pieces after Abdie left and the realization of everything kicked in.
Ferial drifted through it like someone caught between worlds—never fully awake, never fully gone. Every time she surfaced, there was something form of pain waiting for her.
Sometimes it was sharp and sometimes dull.
Sometimes it was so heavy that it felt like inside her bones were bruised and broken. Perhaps they were and she was still not allowing her body to accept it.
But every single time she opened her eyes, Dante was there. Always there and always comforting her. He fussed over her as though her injuries were his fault. Perhaps that was the truth. He did shout for her to jump.
The room slowly became more familiar over the next day. As though it was now her daily routine and environment. Yeah... it was infact exactly that.
The soft hum of machines. The pale cream walls. The faint sterile scent that drifted through the ventilation system of the estate’s medical wing. Nurses moving in and out with practiced efficiency. Doctors speaking quietly at the foot of her bed.
And Dante—
Sitting beside her like he belonged there more than anywhere else.
At some point during the night, Ferial woke again to quiet voices.
“…nerve response still limited,” one doctor murmured carefully.
“She regained partial sensation in her right leg this morning,” another replied. “That’s promising.”
Ferial frowned weakly.
Leg.
Right—
The memory slammed back hard enough to make her stomach twist.
The cave.
Not being able to move.
Her breathing hitched and instantly, Dante leaned forward from the chair beside her bed.
“Hey,” he said softly. “Easy my moon.”
His hand slid over hers before panic could fully take hold.
“You’re okay.”
Her eyes darted toward him. “My legs—”
“They’re injured,” he said honestly. “Your spine took trauma during the fall and the impact against the rocks. The doctors don’t know the full extent yet, but they are monitoring.”
The honesty hurt more than lies would have. He saw it immediately and wanted to wrap her in gentle lies.
“But you are improving,” he added firmly. “You’ve already regained some response.”
One of the doctors stepped closer then, an older woman with silver threaded through dark hair and kind but direct eyes.
“Luna Ferial,” she said gently. “I need you to try something for me.”
Ferial swallowed. The doctor touched her right foot beneath the blanket.
“Can you feel that?”
A pause.
Then—
Faint.
Weak.
But there.
“…yes,” Ferial whispered.
The doctor nodded once.
“And this?”
Her left foot.
Ferial concentrated hard.
Nothing.
Her throat tightened.
“I… no.”
Dante’s grip on her hand tightened slightly.
The doctor remained calm. “That’s all right. Recovery after trauma like yours takes time.”
Time.
Ferial hated that word lately.
Everything seemed to require time now.
Healing.
Trust.
Adjustment.
Even surviving.
The nurses moved around her again after the examination. One adjusted the IV line while another carefully checked the bruising spreading across her ribs and shoulder.
Ferial hissed quietly when they shifted her slightly.
“I know,” the one nurse murmured sympathetically. “I know, sweetheart.”
Dante looked like he wanted to stop them entirely.
The older doctor noticed Dante becoming agitated for his mates sake.
“She has to be moved periodically, Alpha.”
His jaw flexed. “She’s in pain.”
“And if we don’t manage her body properly,” the doctor replied calmly, “she’ll suffer worse complications later.”
Dante went silent.
But Ferial saw it. Dante always looked composed. Controlled. Like he could handle anything placed in front of him.
But now—
Now he looked like someone being forced to stand still while the world hurt the person he loved. And there was nothing he could do to fight it. That realization softened something in her chest.
Later that afternoon, once the doctors finally left them alone for a while, the room settled into quiet again.
Rain tapped softly against the windows. Ferial shifted slightly against the pillows, immediately regretting it when pain flared through her ribs.
Dante stood at once.
“What do you need?”
The urgency in his voice almost made her smile.
“You look more tired than I feel,” she murmured.
“That’s impossible.”
“It’s not.”
He exhaled softly and sat back down beside her bed.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then Ferial looked at him carefully.
“You really stayed here the whole time?”
His eyes lifted to hers.
“Yes.”
“Dante…”
“I left once.”
That surprised her.
He leaned back slightly in the chair, exhaustion visible in every line of his body.
“Your surgery lasted almost nine hours,” he said quietly. “They forced me to shower because I had blood on me.”
Her breath caught.
Blood.
His wolf.
The ocean.
Fragments returned in flashes.
“You carried me,” she realized softly.
“I wasn’t letting anyone else do it.”
She stared at him quietly.
“You scared me,” he admitted suddenly.
The honesty in his voice made her chest ache.
“I know.”
“No,” he said, shaking his head slightly. “You don’t.”
His eyes darkened slightly, distant now.
“When they told me they couldn’t reach you immediately… when they said the cave could collapse…”
He stopped.
His hand tightened around hers unconsciously.
“I could feel my wolf losing control.”
Ferial watched him carefully.
“Did you?”
A humorless smile crossed his face.
“I almost tore apart half the coastline looking for you. Infact I might have thrown my Beta and Gamma overbaord once or twice.”
She laughed gently. That sounded believable. Very believable.
“And afterward,” he continued quietly, “when they brought you onto the boat…”
His voice roughened.
“You stopped responding for forty-three seconds. I counted every fucking second Ferial. I wanted to die with you. Join you in whatever realm you were lost to.”
Ferial went very still.
Dante looked away briefly, jaw tightening.
“The medics got you back quickly,” he said. “But I heard the flatline.”
The room suddenly felt colder.
She stared at him, unable to speak.
Forty-three seconds.
Dead.
Almost dead.
Dante finally looked back at her.
“There is nothing in this world,” he said quietly, “that has ever terrified me more.”
Emotion rose suddenly and fiercely in her throat.
Not because of the danger.
Not because of the injuries.
But because she believed him completely.
Ferial shifted her hand weakly in his grip.
“I’m sorry.”
His expression immediately hardened.
“No.”
“But—”
“No,” he repeated firmly. “You do not apologize for surviving anything this damn world has put you through and what i have put your through.”
The words settled deep inside her. A knock interrupted the moment before she could respond. A younger nurse stepped in carrying a tray.
“Pain medication,” she said softly. “And food.”
Food turned out to be broth, soft bread, fruit cut into tiny pieces. Ferial looked deeply unimpressed. Dante noticed immediately.
“You hate it.”
“It looks sad.”
A faint smile tugged at his mouth for the first time all day.
“It’s hospital food.”
“In the district we at least seasoned suffering.”
The nurse choked back a laugh.
Dante actually smiled it was-
Small.
Real.
God, she liked that smile. He picked up the spoon carefully.
“Come on,” he said. “You need to eat.”
“I can feed myself.”
“You can barely sit up.”
“That’s rude.”
“It’s a fact not a statement Ferial. ”
Still—
He fed her slowly anyway. The intimacy of it surprised her more than anything else. Not dramatic intimacy. Just—
Gentle.
Careful.
Real.
At one point broth dripped slightly down her chin and Dante quietly wiped it away with the napkin before she could protest.
Ferial stared at him afterward.
“What?”
“You’re very… domestic for someone who looks like they could lead a war.”
One brow lifted.
“I can do both.”
She huffed softly, exhausted but amused.
Hours later, when the pain medication finally began pulling her toward sleep again, Dante adjusted her blankets carefully.
“You should rest too,” she murmured drowsily.
“I will.”
“You’re lying.”
“Yes but for a valid reason my moon”
Her eyes fluttered.
“Dante.”
“Hm?”
“If my hair looks terrible when I recover, I’m blaming the ocean.”
A quiet laugh escaped him.
“I’ll personally finance every oil and conditioner you want.”
“Good, because even in the district it was a rats nest of hair.”
Sleep pulled at her again. But before she disappeared fully beneath it, she felt Dante lean forward. His lips brushed softly against her forehead.
“You came back to me,” he whispered.
And somewhere between the machines, the pain, the exhaustion, and the warmth of his hand wrapped around hers instantly warmth and love.