Chapter 28
Slow pieces.
A sharp beep. The distant wail of a siren. The jostling sensation of movement.
Maddie tried to swallow, but her throat screamed in protest, a deep, raw ache blooming across her neck. Her pulse throbbed behind her eyes, and her limbs felt heavy, weighted down by exhaustion and pain.
Maddie blinked, forcing her vision to focus. Fluorescent lights flickered above her, too bright against the metal ceiling of the ambulance. Everything felt too loud, too sharp, too real.
Then—movement.
A large, solid presence at her side.
Heath.
His face was tight with tension, his jaw locked, eyes dark with something fierce and unreadable. He was in uniform. When had that happened?
Her voice came out broken, barely more than a whisper. “Heath?”
Heath’s head snapped down instantly, his eyes locking onto hers with a sharp intensity, as if he had been holding his breath, waiting for her to wake up. Relief flickered across his face, raw and unguarded, before something harder settled in—something darker, something lethal barely kept in check.
His hand found hers, warm and solid, grounding her in a way that had nothing to do with the IVs in her arm or the oxygen mask resting just above her collarbone. His grip was firm, like he needed the contact as much as she did, like he was holding himself together by sheer force of will.
“I’m here,” he said, voice low and steady, but there was an edge to it—something rough, something shaken.
She tried to wet her lips, but her mouth was dry, her throat resisting every movement. “My neck—”
“I know.” His jaw clenched, his other hand ghosting over the bruising there, fury flashing in his gaze before he swallowed it down. “You took some damage, but you’re okay. You’re safe.”
Safe.
The word unraveled something deep inside her, something tightly wound and fragile. She let out a shaky breath, trying to move, trying to process, but even the smallest shift sent a wave of fire through her throat, down to her ribs.
“What—” She had to pause, had to force her voice out through the ache. “What happened?”
His grip tightened. “He hurt you.” The words were razor-sharp, definitive, as if spoken aloud they became law. An undeniable truth. “But I stopped him.”
Stopped him.
She blinked up at him, disoriented as memories began hitting her in pieces—David’s hands closing in, her lungs screaming for air, the darkness creeping in at the edges of her vision. And then—chaos.
Shouting. Thrashing. Heath.
Her gaze drifted downward, catching the streaks of red across his knuckles.
Oh, God.
Her stomach twisted. “Heath…”
He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand over his jaw, like he was trying to physically shake off the weight of what had happened. “Don’t,” he muttered, voice low and tight. “Don’t ask me if he’s okay.”
She didn’t.
Not because she didn’t care. But because she already knew the answer.
The siren wailed again, the ambulance taking a sharp turn. She winced at the movement, her body protesting every jolt and bump.
“I’m sorry—” Her voice cracked before she could finish, guilt pressing against her ribs, suffocating.
His grip on her hand didn’t waver. “Don’t. Don’t you dare apologize.”
Her frown deepened. “How—”
“Natalie gave me the address.” His voice was softer now, like the fight had bled out of him, like all that mattered was that she was here, with him. “We’ve all been looking for you. And I didn’t care if I had to break down doors, walls, or tear the whole damn place down to find you.”
Something thick and hot lodged in her throat—not from the pain, but from him.
From what he had done for her.
From what he had risked.
She didn’t know what to say to that, didn’t have the words to convey the enormity of what she felt.
So she just whispered his name. “Heath.”
He exhaled, shaking his head slightly before leaning in, the warmth of his palm cupping her cheek, his thumb brushing just below the bruises.
“Baby,” he murmured, voice rough with emotion. “I was scared.”
Tears burned at the edges of her vision, slipping free before she could stop them. He caught one with his thumb, his touch impossibly gentle, reverent.
“I love you,” she said.
The words were barely a breath, but they carried the weight of everything—every fear, every truth, every piece of her that she hadn’t even realized belonged to him until now.
He inhaled sharply, his forehead pressing against hers for a fleeting second before he pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes burning.
She squeezed his hand—weak, trembling, but there.
“I’m here,” she whispered.
He swallowed hard.
“Yeah,” he said. “You are.”
And then his lips brushed over her temple, lingering, holding, promising.
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