21. Eva
EVA
Something tugs at me before I’m ready to wake up, but I can’t sit up or open my eyes. My eyelids feel stuck together.
I flinch weakly as someone hushes me with a gentle voice.
“Hey, easy. Don’t try to sit up.”
I try anyway.
Pain shoots through me, sharp and unbearable, as if something inside has ripped open. I let out a broken sound before I can stop myself.
“Hang tight. Almost there,” the voice says again.
The words float around me, far away and heavy.
Almost where?
I try to hold onto the thought, but everything slips away again.
The second time I wake, sunlight is spilling across the room.
I blink slowly, my lashes stuck together while my vision tries to focus. For a moment, nothing makes sense.
The ceiling above me isn’t concrete.
No pipes.
No vent with a metal grate.
No dark basement.
Only white walls and bright, clean light.
I pull in a careful breath.
Every inch of me aches.
“He—hey! She’s awake!” someone yells.
The voice is familiar.
“Loo-see-en?” I manage to garble.
“Shhh…shhh. It’s okay. You’re okay.”
Recognition comes slowly.
I manage to turn my head slightly before pain flares through my shoulder and ribs hard enough to stop me.
My body feels heavy and distant, like it belongs to someone else.
“Don’t move,” Lucian says quickly, and moves closer, his face hovering somewhere in my blurred vision. “Seriously, don’t move. Just stay still.”
My vision clears enough to make out a hospital bed.
A window.
Medical equipment.
Lucian is sitting beside me with his hand wrapped around mine.
I try to sit up anyway and regret it immediately.
Pain hits my stomach, knocking the breath out of me.
“WhereamI?” I slur. “Whahappened?”
“Hang on,” Lucian says, glancing toward the door. “Maya!”
A moment later, Maya comes into view, dark hair pulled back, expression calm and focused.
“You’re in my clinic,” she says gently.
I blink at her.
“Clinic?”
“A small health center,” she says. “Quiet enough not to attract attention.”
“How long…” The question dies halfway out.
“How long have you been unconscious?”
I nod weakly.
“About twelve hours since we stabilized you,” Maya says. “You drifted in and out before that.”
“Twelve hours,” I echo quietly.
Beside me, Lucian exhales hard.
“You scared the hell out of us.”
I look at him properly for the first time.
Grease still smears one of his forearms. His blond hair is messy, and his eyes are bloodshot, like he hasn’t slept at all.
“Eva,” Maya’s tone is gentle but firm. “Stay still for me, okay?”
She asks Lucian to step outside, then moves around the bed to check the monitors and quickly takes my vitals.
Her fingers rest lightly against my wrist while she counts my pulse.
She adjusts my IV and looks me over carefully.
“How are you feeling?”
I breathe out, weak and tired.
“Wrecked.”
The corner of her mouth twitches.
“Fair.”
“Thirsty,” I add.
Maya fills a paper cup from the sink and helps me take a few careful sips.
One of my hands is wrapped in thick bandages.
The other has an IV taped to it.
“I had to sedate you,” she says as I sip. “You’ll probably feel nauseous as it wears off, so take it slow.”
I nod slightly and sink back into the pillows.
“My whole body hurts.”
“I imagine it does.”
She folds her arms loosely.
“You have a broken finger, a fractured clavicle, multiple cuts, burns, and enough bruises to make me angry on your behalf.”
I close my eyes.
And suddenly the memories start coming back.
Martin.
The restraints.
The branding iron.
His hand around my throat.
My stomach clenches.
Maya notices immediately.
“There's something else we need to talk about.”
My heart races.
The room spins.
A memory of Martin climbing onto the table flashes through my mind so clearly I almost gag.
A broken sound escapes.
“Did he…”
Maya’s expression softens instantly.
“No.”
The answer comes without hesitation.
“No. They got you out before that happened.”
Relief hits me so hard it almost hurts.
“But,” Maya says carefully, “he did cause significant damage to your abdomen.”
The relief evaporates.
“I don't think there's internal bleeding,” she continues. “But there's swelling, and I'm concerned about possible reproductive injuries.”
I stare at her.
“What does that mean?”
Maya hesitates.
“It could affect your fertility.”
The words land like a punch.
“We won't know for sure until we can run more tests.”
“Oh.”
That’s all I can manage.
Just one word.
I never spent much time thinking about children. Not with Baron Roybal waiting in my future.
A husband like him didn’t exactly inspire dreams about motherhood.
But losing the choice?
That hits differently.
Grief settles heavily in my chest.
Another thing taken from me without my say in it.
Maya's expression softens.
“You’re lucky Hudson found you when he did.”
Hudson.
My brows pull together immediately.
“What happened?”
“I wasn’t there,” Maya says. “Lucian can probably explain better than I can. Do you want him back in?”
I hesitate.
Maya notices instantly.
“Eva.”
Her voice is gentle.
“I need you to understand something.”
She steps closer.
“Right now, I'm your doctor before anything else. If you want the police called, I'll call them. If you want to leave, we'll talk about that too.”
She holds my gaze.
“Tell me what you need.”
There’s something about her that makes me trust her completely.
Even knowing she treated people at the mansion.
Even knowing she had to understand what kind of men lived there.
“I should talk to Lucian,” I say finally.
Maya nods and heads for the door.
A moment later, Lucian slips back into the room.
He looks different.
Older somehow.
Like the last twenty-four hours stole whatever was left of his innocence.
Like he saw something he can't unsee.
“You okay?” he asks carefully.
I let out a humorless breath.
“I honestly don’t know.”
He awkwardly shoves his hands into his sweatpants pockets and looks at the floor.
For a second, neither of us says anything.
Then I swallow.
“So... what happened?”
Lucian drags both hands down his face.
“Hudson came back from the road trip and went looking for you,” he says quietly. “He asked if I’d seen you, and I told him Martin took you downstairs after he got back.”
My stomach knots up.
“How long was I down there?”
Lucian's jaw tightens.
“Maybe a day.”
He looks sick just saying it.
A day.
I stare up at the ceiling.
Trying not to think about it.
Trying not to remember.
“He was angry,” I say eventually. “My father wouldn’t negotiate.”
Lucian swallows and nods.
“I’m sorry, Eva.”
The guilt in his voice catches me off guard.
“It’s not your fault.”
His shoulders tense.
“Maybe not.”
A bitter laugh slips out.
“But maybe I should've done something.”
I briefly close my eyes.
“What could you have done?”
Lucian doesn't answer.
Because we both know the truth.
Nothing.
Not against Martin.
Instead, he shifts his weight.
“Hudson freaked out when he realized where you were.”
I turn my head slightly toward him.
“He ran downstairs, and I followed him.”
A shadow crosses his face.
“Martin was...”
He trails off.
I lift a hand weakly.
“No need.”
Lucian nods.
“Hudson knocked him out. Then he grabbed you and got you out of there.”
The room goes quiet.
“There’s probably hell waiting for him back at the mansion,” Lucian says after a moment. “Martin's got people looking for us already.”
I don't know what to do with that.
Part of me doesn't care.
Part of me cares more than it should.
“And where is Hudson now?”
“At the arena.”
I blink.
“The arena?”
Lucian rubs the back of his neck.
“He went to talk to the team. Figure out taking some time off.”
I stare at him in disbelief.
My heart monitor immediately speeds up.
“He went to hockey practice after all this?”
Lucian winces at the machine.
“Not practice. Just... trying to figure things out.”
“What exactly is his plan?”
Panic creeps into my voice.
Lucian looks completely defeated.
“I’m not sure if he has one.”
I let out a bitter laugh.
“Well, that’s comforting.”
“Eva.”
“He kidnapped me,” I say sharply. “He left me in that house. He doesn’t become a hero just because he stopped his uncle from raping me.”
The room goes quiet.
Then Maya steps back inside.
“He still saved your life,” she says calmly.
I let out another laugh.
This one hurts.
Everything hurts.
My ribs.
My shoulder.
My hand.
My thoughts.
I look back at Lucian.
“Will you be okay?”
He blinks.
“Me?”
“You helped your brother.”
Lucian shakes his head.
“Martin never saw me. Hudson made me stay outside.”
“But people saw you leave with us.”
“It’s fine.”
“Actually,” Maya says gently, “You probably shouldn’t stay here.”
Lucian’s jaw tightens.
“She's my friend.”
The words surprise me.
“And Hudson's my brother. I'm not going back to live in a house with a man who would do this.”
“This,” I say quietly. “Torture. Attempted rape. Lucian, I doubt I'm the first person he's done that to.”
“I...” Lucian looks sick. “I swear to God, Eva. I didn't know.”
And somehow, that’s what finally breaks me.
Not the pain.
Not the terror.
Not even Martin.
It's the genuine horror on Lucian's face.
Because it means this wasn’t normal, even here.
I held myself together through the basement.
Through the knives.
Through the branding iron.
I had to.
Survival didn't leave room for anything else.
But now it's over.
And suddenly, nothing is holding me together.
The tears come without warning.
Hot.
Relentless.
Every breath catches painfully in my chest.
I hate it.
I hate crying.
I hate looking weak after fighting so hard not to be.
But I can't stop.
Through the blur, I hear Maya's gentle voice.
“You need rest. Your body's been through severe trauma.”
“I’m not tired,” I choke out.
Even I can hear how pathetic that lie sounds.
She gives me a look.
“You don't have to be strong right now.”
That breaks whatever is left of me.
The tears come harder.
Maya quietly sets a box of tissues next to me, then looks at Lucian.
“We should give her some space.”
He hesitates.
“Should I stay?”
“Rest, Eva,” Maya says softly. “We'll talk when you're feeling better.”
A moment later, the door clicks shut behind them.
And suddenly, I’m alone with the pain, the fear, and the awful realization that I have absolutely no idea what comes next.