"Kiara, I am fine… not dead… yet. Stop crying."
My voice comes out weaker than I intend, but the teasing tone is still there—just enough to pull her back from completely falling apart.
Kiara sits beside my bed like she's guarding something fragile. Me. Her eyes are red, swollen from crying too much, and her fingers keep twisting the edge of my blanket like if she lets go, I'll disappear.
"It's been a week," I add softly, trying again. "I'm still here."
That should've been enough reassurance.
But she just sniffles harder, wiping her nose quickly like she's embarrassed to be seen like this.
Honestly…
I don't blame her.
A week in this hospital feels like I've been removed from my own life. Like everything outside is still moving—deals, people, chaos, power—but I've been paused in the middle of it all.
Frozen.
Left behind.
The room smells like antiseptic and something faintly metallic. The machines beside me beep in slow, steady rhythms that I've memorized without trying. My bandages have changed from something terrifying into something… manageable.
Healing.
That's what they call it.
But healing doesn't feel clean.
It feels slow.
Heavy.
Like every inch of my body is reminding me of what happened, again and again.
The pain isn't sharp anymore.
Not like that night.
Now it's dull.
Constant.
A quiet ache that settles deep and refuses to leave.
It's strange how quickly pain becomes familiar.
Like it belongs to you.
Like it was always there.
I shift slightly against the pillows, and even that small movement sends a ripple through my side. My breath catches, but I hide it quickly.
Kiara notices anyway.
Of course she does.
"You're not fine," she whispers, her voice breaking again.
I give her a small look. "I said fine enough."
A weak attempt.
But she lets out a tiny laugh through her tears, and that's enough for me.
For now.
I glance toward the door without meaning to.
It's half-open.
Guards outside.
Always.
And inside—
I'm never alone for long.
Either Zane.
Or Adrian.
Sometimes both.
Like I've become something breakable they don't trust the world with anymore.
It's… suffocating.
And yet—
a part of me doesn't hate it.
That's the strange part.
Zane is worse in the quiet way.
He doesn't hover.
He doesn't speak much.
But he sees everything.
The way my breathing shifts.
The way I wince when I think no one's looking.
The way I pretend I'm stronger than I feel.
And he never calls it out directly.
He just… adjusts.
Moves closer.
Stays longer.
Like he's silently refusing to let anything happen again.
Adrian is different.
Louder in his silence.
There's always tension in him now, like something is constantly pressing against his control. His eyes don't rest. His mind is somewhere else even when he's standing right beside me.
Planning.
Calculating.
Rebuilding whatever cracked the moment I got shot.
And honestly?
That scares me more than the bullet ever did.
Because I know what Adrian does when something crosses the line.
And this—
this crossed every line.
I exhale slowly, leaning back into the pillow, staring at the ceiling.
"Wild," I murmur under my breath.
Kiara looks at me. "What?"
"Nothing," I say softly.
But it's not nothing.
Because they are.
Both of them.
Wild in completely different ways.
Zane is controlled chaos—quiet, dangerous, always thinking ahead even when he pretends he isn't.
Adrian is pressure—contained rage that doesn't move until it breaks something.
And somehow—
I'm standing right in the middle of both of them.
The thought should make me uncomfortable.
It does.
But not entirely.
Because there's something else there too.
Something I don't want to name yet.
Zane's family has been visiting too.
That part still feels unreal.
His mother brings flowers sometimes—soft colors that don't belong in a room like this. She speaks gently, like she's trying to understand me without asking too many questions.
His father doesn't say much.
He just watches.
Observes.
Like he's measuring what I am and where I fit in all of this.
And his grandfather—
I let out a quiet breath at the memory.
He looked at me like the world made a mistake.
Like something happened that shouldn't have been possible.
Like this wasn't just about me being hurt—
but about something bigger being disturbed.
And maybe he's right.
Because everyone is acting like this wasn't just an attack.
It was a message.
A crack in something that was never supposed to break.
I feel it.
In the way people speak lower outside my room.
In the way conversations stop when I'm awake.
In the way no one says the word war out loud—
but it lingers anyway.
The underworld doesn't forget things like this.
It doesn't forgive either.
It waits.
And when it moves—
it doesn't move lightly.
My chest rises slowly as I close my eyes for a second.
And like always—
my mind drifts back.
To that night.
The music.
The lights.
The warmth of the garden.
Zane's hand on my waist.
The way everything felt… suspended.
Like time had slowed down just for us.
And then—
the sound.
The impact.
The way everything shifted in an instant.
I can still feel it sometimes.
That moment.
That break between before and after.
My fingers tighten slightly over the blanket.
Zane's arms around me.
Strong.
Unshaking.
Holding me like I wasn't allowed to fall.
I swallow slowly.
I don't know what to do with that memory.
Because it doesn't feel like fear.
It feels like something else.
Something deeper.
More complicated.
And I'm not ready to understand it yet.
"I hope they don't find him too quickly," I whisper, almost without realizing I said it out loud.
Kiara frowns. "What?"
I shake my head slightly. "Nothing."
But it's not nothing.
Because I know what happens if they do.
If Adrian finds him first—
or Zane does—
there won't be questions.
There won't be explanations.
There won't be anything left to understand.
Only consequences.
Final ones.
I sigh softly, opening my eyes again.
The ceiling hasn't changed.
The room hasn't changed.
Nothing has.
And yet—
everything has.
I turn my head slightly toward Kiara.
She's still watching me like I might disappear.
I give her a faint smile.
"I'm still here," I say quietly.
More to myself than to her.
Still alive.
Still healing.
Still watched.
Still caught between something I don't fully understand yet.
And for now—
that's enough.