After Zane leaves the room, the silence changes.
It doesn't feel empty anymore.
It feels heavier.
Like the air itself knows something is still unfinished.
The beeping beside me steadies everything in small, annoying reminders that I'm still here. Still breathing. Still not allowed to fall apart even if my body feels like it's been dragged through something I can't fully explain yet.
I turn my head slightly.
It takes effort.
But I do it anyway.
And I see him.
Adrian.
Standing near the edge of the room like he's trying not to take up too much space in a place that already feels too fragile.
His posture is straight—always straight—but it's different now.
Tighter.
Like something inside him is being held together by sheer force alone.
His eyes meet mine the moment I look at him.
And for a second—
just a second—
I see it.
Not the brother who runs things.
Not the man people fear.
Not the Gambino name everyone whispers carefully.
Just Adrian.
My brother.
And he looks like he's been hit by something he can't control.
I swallow slightly, my throat dry, my voice softer than I expect when I finally speak.
"It's not your fault…"
His expression shifts immediately.
A flicker.
Like he doesn't want to hear that.
Like he's already rejecting it before it reaches him.
I try again, weaker but steadier.
"Danger is our second name."
A faint, tired breath leaves me.
It almost hurts to talk, but I don't stop.
Because I know him.
I know what he does when things go wrong.
How he turns everything inward.
"How we live… what we are…" I pause, blinking slowly, trying to focus. "This was always possible."
His jaw tightens slightly.
And I can see it—
he's blaming himself anyway.
I hate that.
I shift a little more on the bed, wincing softly, but I force my hand to move anyway.
A small gesture.
A reminder.
I'm still here.
"I am strong," I whisper.
My voice is quieter now, but more certain.
"I promise."
That word sits between us for a moment.
Promise.
It feels heavier than it should.
Adrian doesn't move right away.
Doesn't speak.
Just watches me like he's trying to decide whether to believe it… or whether believing it will make it hurt more if something happens again.
His silence makes my chest tighten.
So I force a small, tired smile.
Not perfect.
Not strong.
Just… mine.
"You don't get to fall apart," I say softly.
A pause.
"Not now."
His eyes flicker at that.
Something cracks—just slightly—in his expression.
Like he wasn't expecting me to still be me in all of this.
I let out a slow breath and sink back a little into the pillow.
Everything still aches.
Everything still feels far away and too close at the same time.
But I keep my eyes on him.
Because I need him to hear this.
Not the brother.
Not the Gambino head.
Just Adrian.
"I'm still here," I whisper.
A beat.
"So you stay here too."
And for the first time since I woke up in this room…
the silence between us doesn't feel like fear.
It feels like something we might survive.