Chapter 19

I awake once more, my eyelids heavy as if weighted down by the nightmares that plagued me in my sleep. I blink rapidly, and everything comes into view slowly before they fall shut again. I breathe slowly, happy air isn't being shoved up my nose anymore.

Get it together, Hunter.

Focus.

This time, when I muster the strength to open them, I'm met with a stark realization that sends my heart into overdrive.

I'm in a hospital bed, that much is clear. But this isn't any hospital room I've ever seen before. There are no windows to offer a glimpse of the outside world, and the dim, muted lighting casts an eerie shadow over everything, enveloping me in a darkness that feels almost oppressive instead of cozy.

Not that hospitals are ever cozy. I should know.

I swallow, shoving that thought away.

My tired eyes slowly scan the room, from the unassuming white door to the ground. The floors gleam with an almost unnatural sheen, but not the usually sterile white you'd expect from a doctor's office. The walls, stark white like blank canvas', enclose me in an unfamiliar coldness that seeps into my bones.

Or maybe it's because I almost died.

I did, right? Or did I just imagine that?

The room lacks the telltale signs of a conventional hospital setting—the absence of professional medical equipment, the sterile precision that I've come to associate with life-saving efforts. Instead, it feels more like an at-home setup in someone's basement.

The thought has me struggling to sit up with a groan.

I have to get the fuck out of here.

"Hunter?" a tiny voice cracks, and my heart goes right along with it. It feels like my head whips to follow the sound, but I can tell I'm moving way slower than intended. Doesn't matter. She's always been worth the wait. "Oh my God, Hunter!"

Then, she's on me, and my body releases a pained sound that pisses me off. Ella immediately shoves herself away, and I grit my teeth. Fuck, I'd kill myself all over if I could. I didn't want her to leave.

Blinking against the pain that's steadily spreading across my chest, I meet her eyes, and everything else disappears.

She's been crying. More than crying if her swollen red cheeks and puffy eyes are anything to go by. She looks fucking wrecked, but still, so damn beautiful.

"Ba-by," I rasp, the sight of her so sad, breaking my heart. Her mouth opens and closes. Her blue-green eyes go wide at the name, but I don't take it back. Wouldn't if I could, which I definitely can't , as I spiral into an intense coughing fit.

The heaving coughs rip through the heavy silence in the room. Ella reacts swiftly, her anxious hands reaching for a small green pitcher by the hospital bed. With a shaky grip, she slips one hand under my head, helping me sit up while offering the cup to my lips.

"Slow sips," her words are barely a whisper. I comply, taking measured sips, my eyes locked on hers, ignoring the pain that burns and aches in my chest. The cool water offers relief to my parched throat, and my coughs finally subside.

After I've had enough, she delicately removes the cup, placing it back on the nightstand. Her own hands tremble with uncertainty, her worry and nervousness palpable.

"How long have I been out?" I grunt, licking my lips.

Her eyes flit to a clock on the wall, and her brows crash together. "You went into surgery as soon as you got here, and then you took a while to wake up. It's been about six hours since…" She breaks off, and I know what she's referring to.

Since I was shot.

Since our world went to shit.

Ella wrings her hands together, a nervous tic she's always had. My lips nearly twitch, but then she speaks, and the vulnerability in her voice has my pulse thrumming.

"Do you need anything?" Her voice quivers as she asks, her gaze darting toward the door. Her movements are disjointed as if she's trying to anticipate every possible need while fighting the urge to flee. "An extra pillow? A blanket? Oh, maybe the doctor should come to check on you. Yes. Definitely." She takes a hesitant step away, her intention clear.

"Stop," I interrupt firmly, my voice surprisingly strong. She freezes, her wide eyes fixed on mine.

"W-what?" Her stammered response slips from her lips. I can see the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes, but I hold my ground, determined.

"Come here," I command, my voice carrying the weight of authority, even as it rasps with disuse. Her eyes widen, and for a fleeting moment, I worry she might leave. But she silently obeys, shuffling across the cold floor in her long black gown.

My brows furrow when I notice her feet are bare, but I don't comment on it. Not yet.

Ella stops beside my bed, her fingers hesitatingly tangling with the stark white sheets.

"Look at me."

She shakes her head, refusing to meet my gaze, her eyes fixated on her own fingers.

I utter her name, a deep rumble, "Isabella. Look at me, baby."

With a small gasp, her eyes slowly lift to meet mine.

"Are you okay?" I ask, my voice laced with worry.

She shakes her head once more, and I feel a pang of dread. I'm flooded with concern as I scan her face, searching for any signs of injury.

"Were you hurt?" The thought of her being harmed sends my heart racing.

Again, she shakes her head, this time more firmly. My lip twitches with a mixture of relief and frustration.

"Are you going to speak to me?" I ask softly.

She exhales, her nostrils flaring, her mouth opening and closing in an attempt to form words. But nothing comes out. She offers a helpless shrug.

God, she's so fucking adorable.

But she still doesn't move or speak. My eyes rake down her body, taking in every detail. The tiny scrapes on her exposed knuckles. Her face is red but free from makeup. Her tangled mess of smashed curls. The diamonds still draping her delicate throat, her ears.

Gifts from the guys.

Guilt swamps me.

I should have gotten her something.

My gaze snags on her wrists, where I know leather cuffs are doing their best to keep her calm. It's not working, though, not really.

I watch as her eyes cloud over with unshed tears, and my girl does everything she can to keep from falling apart. Her hands are trembling, her body swaying with exhaustion.

And it hits me then.

Ella is fucking terrified .

I don't know why, but I have a few guesses. Maybe because of what happened in that parking lot, to me, to the guys. I swallow thickly. Damn, I don't even know what happened to them. My stomach twists, and my heart throbs, but I shove it away. I'll ask about them soon.

She's my priority.

Now.

Always.

Slowly, so slowly, I reach out and grab her hands, stilling her erratic movements. Her eyes snap to mine, glossy and shadowed. I grip her hand, bringing it to my lips. I press a shaky kiss to the tips of each finger, watching her eyes dilate, her breathing turn to pants, her jaw tremble.

"I told you I love you," I murmur. She jolts but doesn't speak. She also doesn't pull away, so I'm counting it as a win. "I told you I love you, and I want to be with you. I told you I've always loved you, that you're mine, and I'm yours. I told you I'd die for you so you could live the life you deserve. I told you all those things as I lay dying in your arms, Isabella."

Her head shakes, her tears now flowing freely down her round cheeks, and it's an achingly beautiful sight even in the middle of devastation. I swallow hard, my voice trembling with a potent blend of emotions.

"I said all those things, baby…" I suck in a sharp breath. "And I meant them."

At that moment, as our emotions collide and entwine, I can feel the overwhelming depth of my love for her coursing through my veins, an unbreakable bond that defies death and transcends fear.

"Hunter!" she wails, falling into me. I jerk when her small body collides with my chest but ignore the pain as I wrap her in my arms. There's nowhere else I want her to be, ever . Her tears hit my neck as she sobs into me, and I hold her as tight as I can. "I was so fucking scared. I thought you died!"

I rub her back with one hand and palm her head with the other, keeping her tucked in tightly, refusing to let her go.

"I know, babe," I croak, my own eyes filling with tears. I squeeze them shut, inhaling her scent. Beneath the sweat, the tears, the coppery scent of blood, mine probably , she still smells like my Ella. "I'm so sorry."

She tries to pull away, but I can't for the life of me let her. She huffs a small sound of annoyance, and even through our tears, I smile, but it falls as her lips ghost over my throat. A shiver races down my spine.

"It's not your fault," she breathes. "I'm still mad at you for diving in front of that bullet, but, fuck , Hunter…" She breaks off, her body tensing before another wave of sobs hits her. I can feel her shaking, the effort of staying on her feet and bent over the bed too much for my exhausted girl.

I groan in pain as I slide my hand down her back and palm her ass. She jerks in my grip with a little squeal, and I chuckle before sliding a bit lower to grip her upper thigh. I tug her hard but can't pull her where I want her. Luckily, she knows what I want and helps me up, climbing onto the bed as gingerly as possible, avoiding all the wires connected to me.

I tuck Ella into my side, an arm wrapped under her so I can thread my fingers through her hair. I pause when I realize it's tangled and soaked, but I don't comment.

We're a fucking mess.

I don't know how long we sit there, no sound in the room beyond our combined breaths, her sobs that turn to quiet sniffles, and the beeping from my monitors. I can tell I was seriously injured, but the pain meds are doing their job for the most part. I remember being shot, remember her, but not much else, and I'm not sure when the right time to ask is.

Part of me doesn't want to disrupt this peaceful moment we've found. Having Ella in my arms after everything I admitted, everything that happened, with it all out on the table—it's nearly too much.

But, fuck, it feels so damn right.

"Hunter," she breathes, breaking the silence. I hum in response, continuing to gently detangle her hair, my eyes heavy. Ella exhales slowly and leans up, her clouded eyes meeting mine. I brush her tears away, loving the way she sinks into my touch. "Everything is so fucked up."

I almost laugh at her eloquent way of stating the obvious. Instead, I give her a stern nod. "I know."

Her eyes search mine, and my gut twists. "Did you really mean it?" she whispers, her voice cracking.

My heart rate kicks up, and I curse the damn monitor for betraying my nerves, my excitement, my love.

I rub her cheek, my thumb making slow strokes across her face, tracing it, rememorizing it like I've done hundreds of times before.

"What part?" I murmur. She gives me a look that has my lip twitching. I pinch her chin, bringing her face closer, closer, closer , until we're only a breath away. "If you're asking about the part where I died so you could live," I whisper, pinching harder when she tenses. I press a kiss to her cheek, murmuring against her skin, "Yes. A hundred times over, yes."

"Hunt…" she breathes.

I tug her in closer, and she comes willingly. "Or about when I said that it's always been you. From the day we met until the day I actually let Heaven or Hell take me, it has been and will always be you ."

A kiss to her jaw.

Her nose.

Her eyes flutter closed, so I kiss them, too.

There's not even an inch between us now, but I don't stop, not until she tells me to. Even then, it would kill me, but I'd stop. For her, I'd respect every boundary she needed. There was a time when I couldn't, and I will never take that from her again.

"What about the part where I said that I love you, hmm?"

She whimpers at my words, and I smile, kissing the corner of her mouth, this time slower, longer. Ella shakes in my hands, leaning in further, leaning into my touch, into me.

Despite the fucked up situation we're in, despite the throb in my chest, my cock kicks up to full-mast, eager and willing now that she's here.

We're alive.

My lips hover over hers. "Look at me," I rasp. Her eyes flutter open as I slide my thumb over her jaw and grip the back of her neck. "Or are you asking about when I said you're mine, Isabella?"

"That one," she chokes out.

I smirk, running my lips across hers, inhaling her sweet scent.

"Yeah," I murmur. "I meant that, too."

And then, she's kissing me.

Or maybe I'm kissing her.

I don't know, and I don't care, but her lips are on mine, and for the first time in my life, I feel whole . I don't waste a damn second of this opportunity, using my grip on the back of her head to pull her into me until I have no idea where she ends, and I begin.

There, on a hospital bed in an unknown place, I kiss the love of my life the way I should have in the back of that fucking SUV before our lives went to shit. I should have kissed her so deep, so hard, her lipstick was smeared across my soul, and everyone knew what I'd done—who she belongs to.

Ella moans into my mouth, and somewhere, in the back of my head, a voice whispers that she doesn't belong just to me. But then, I remember the way Maddox gave me his, their, blessing to pursue her. The way he taunted me as if she'd never choose me.

But she's choosing me now just like I've chosen her always.

A thought I'd had out there on that pavement lot flits through my mind again, slamming into me like a ten-ton boulder.

I should have loved her loudly .

I rip my mouth from hers, one hand cupping her cheek, the other keeping her close so she doesn't get any crazy ideas about leaving me. Her hazy eyes meet mine, and for one brief second, I get distracted by her lust-filled gaze, her puffy lips, her red cheeks. Not from tears, but from me . Because I turned her on. Because she wants me .

"I love you, Ella," I rasp, emotion choking me. "I love you," I say it again and again, needing her to truly know . God, I've waited so fucking long for this. I swallow hard. I'm not one to beg, but I'm begging now. "Please tell me you still–"

"I love you so much," she chokes out, and my heart fucking soars.

But I have to be sure. My lip kicks up. "Like sexy love, right? Not like a brother?" Or a friend, or sidepiece or gay-bestie, or….

She slaps my chest softly, and I wince with a gasp. Ella's eyes go wide as she frantically tries to soothe the hurt with pets and kisses across my bandaged chest. "I'm so sorry. Fuck, Hunt. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm—"

"Ella," I chuckle, guiding her face back to mine. I cock a brow. "Answer me, baby."

"You're so demanding all of a sudden." She scoffs and rolls her eyes, but the sniffle she sniffs takes away from her sassiness.

Leaning in, she presses another kiss to my lips, her tongue sliding slowly against my mouth, asking for entrance. I groan, letting her tongue play with mine in a slow, exploratory way.

We've kissed before. When we were younger, but I've done everything I can to forget those moments. They were forced, and though they made my heart soar in the darkness, they were tainted. Then, just a few months ago, I kissed her at that club, and while it had meant a hell of a lot to me, we'd been shitfaced, completely drunk. Those memories are tainted, too.

But here, now, with my hands cradling her sweet face, hers roaming my chest, my bare neck, threading through my long hair as her tongue slides against mine, it's different.

It's everything.

"I love you in a sexy, boyfriend kinda way," she whispers against my mouth. "A very sexy way."

Her eyes flick up to mine as she smirks before biting down on my lower lip. I groan, my eyes rolling to the back of my head. Unable to help myself, I palm her ass and grind my erection into her thigh, letting her see just how much I want her. Ella whimpers, rolling her hips back before pulling away slightly. She has to shake the lust from her mind so she can think straight, making me chuckle and her huff.

We stare at each other for a long moment, and I give her space to find her words, sensing something on her mind. A lot, no doubt.

Her fingers trace my brow, my nose, my jaw. "I love you in a forever kind of way, Hunter Morris."

I swallow, my eyes burning. "Yeah?"

The smile she graces me with is one I'll never forget. "Yeah." All too soon, her smile's fading. "But, Hunt," she murmurs. "I love them too."

I nod, my teeth grinding. "I know you do."

Her eyes search mine. We're still close, too close for any kind of civilized conversation that requires me to think, but I don't dare remove her body from where she's cradled next to mine.

"And that's okay with you?" she murmurs.

I sigh a long breath, stroking her hair again. "I won't say I love the idea of sharing you. I've loved you for as long as I can remember, and somewhere in the back of my mind, I'd always hoped…" I shrug, watching as my fingers trace her earrings.

The diamonds are huge, heavy, and ostentatious as fuck, but it's everything she deserves. It's also something I could never hope to give her myself. And therein lies my answer. What I've already figured out. What I've already accepted.

My gaze flicks to hers. "You deserve every ounce of love and adoration the world has to offer. You deserve pretty jewels and fancy houses, fast cars, and nights on the town. I can't give you all that." I swallow, my pride taking a massive hit. "But they can."

"I don't need all of that," she interjects, her voice hard.

I smile softly, kissing her jaw. "I know you don't, baby. But you should have it."

"That's not why I'm with them," she grumbles, trying to pull away. I keep her cute little ass banded to my chest, chuckling when she grunts in frustration.

"Oh, I'm one hundred percent aware that's not why you're with them."

"How do you know?" she huffs.

I smirk. Little brat.

"Three reasons," I grunt, holding up the fingers of my free hand. "One, you're not like that." I give her a knowing look.

I know Isabella better than I know myself. She'd rather live in a shack and eat nothing but cheese and potatoes for the rest of her life than live in a mansion if it meant she could be truly happy.

"Two, I've seen the way those men love you." I cup her cheek, making her look at me. "You are their fucking world, baby, and I will never take that from you. As long as you keep me as part of your harem, I'm in this shit with you for life." I waggle my brows. "We should get matching shirts."

"Oh yeah?" I nod and Ella bursts out laughing, her head rubbing against my shoulder. "You said three," she mumbles.

"Ah, yes. Three reasons as to why you're with them." I smirk, my eyes scanning the hospital room as she settles into me again. "Those guys are hot as fuck."

"Oh my God," she cackles, her body shaking against mine. The sound of her happiness lights me the fuck up. When she goes quiet, and her fingers start to dance along my chest, I know she's back in her head. "So," she whispers. "You think they're hot, huh?"

My throat bobs, and I'm suddenly glad she can't see my face. "Well, yeah." I clear my throat, trying to play off the way my stomach flips. "Who wouldn't think that?"

Ella giggles. "All of them, or anyone in particular?"

My brows lift. I feel like she knows something she can't possibly know. "Uhh…"

Fuck .

Why did I say anything?

My mind swirls with images of the guys. Each of them is attractive. Anyone with eyes would agree. They're all big and tattooed and growly, some more than others.

Stone is objectively attractive, but he's not my type. Never has been. Something about him reminds me too much of myself, and I can't stand myself on the best of days.

Gage is hot as fuck, but he's also beyond obsessed with Ella in a way that makes me want to peel my skin off with a carrot shaver when I'm near them. Not that I'm not equally obsessed, as are the rest of the guys, but the dude acts like he wants to put her in a glass case and worship at her pussy-alter.

Again, same dude, but fucking hell. He's constantly all, eat more protein. Have you had enough water? Take a nap. It's exhausting.

I run a hand through my hair, wincing at the tangles.

Nyxon King is a growly, demanding prick. I hate him because of how awful he's been to my girl. For everything he's done to her. But damn, if I wouldn't let him bend me over any goddamned solid surface and fuck me into oblivion.

My body shudders at the thought, and I swear, she grins against my throat.

I groan, my cock already throbbing at the thought of Maddox.

Fuck me.

I don't know what it is about him. He's annoying, smug, cocky to the point that I want to scream and stab his stupidly pretty eyes out with a dull knife. He's also tall, muscular as fuck, tattoed up to his goddamned throat, and beyond adorable. He's loyal, sweet and funny. He's got a lip ring I've ached to tug between my teeth, a body I crave to explore, and dimples I've imagined filling up with cum.

More than once.

My cock throbs, and I shift to hide my reaction.

But Ella is apparently refusing to drop it because seconds later, her delicate fingers are trailing over the tented sheet as she presses a kiss to my throat.

"Is this for me or for him?" she quietly rasps, her voice husky.

I suck in a breath and pull away enough to meet her eyes. "What?" I choke out, my face burning hot.

She bites down on her thick lip and shrugs. "I've seen the way you are together." Her words are damn near silent, but I hear them loud and clear.

My eyes flick between hers. "Who?"

Her head tilts. "If you want to keep pretending, it's okay. We don't have to talk about it." I watch as her hand rubs my cock with a bit more pressure before sliding up my body to wrap around my jaw. I shiver at her touch. "Just know, I support you in all ways. Both of you." Her lip kicks up. "In fact, I more than support you. If you decide to pursue him or any of them, it's okay with me. I just want all of us to be happy."

My mouth gapes, opening and closing, until I finally find the words to say. They aren't eloquent, but I get my point across. "How can you be okay with that?"

Her brows crash. "How could I not?" She licks her lip, and my fucking cocks drips precum at the sight. "You all share me so I can be happy. How could I not give you that respect right back?"

"But," I object, not understanding.

She shakes her head. "I'm not saying I want all of you sleeping with just anyone, but if there comes a time when you find someone outside of our group that you love, that you need, just talk to me, to us. I want this to work out, and I know it will be hard, but it's worth it." She kisses my jaw. "You're all worth it and—"

Ella breaks off with a soft sob, and I cradle her to my chest. "And what, baby?"

"And I almost lost you, Hunter," she whimpers, her body shaking with the force of her tears. "I almost lost you. You bled out in my fucking arms. You said goodbye !" God, the grief in her voice is enough to break my heart. "And then, the guys, they, they—"

Again, she falls into a fit of sobs so hard I worry she might pass out. I drag her into me so we're as close as possible without her ripping out my IV or any wires and rock her the best I can, murmuring words of love and praise until she can breathe again.

"That's it, that's my good girl," I whisper, stroking everywhere I can reach. "Breathe for me, baby. In and out. In and out. Such a good, sweet girl." She shivers, sniffling. "Keep going, nice and slow."

When she can finally breathe normally, I wipe her tears away and guide her eyes to mine. I kiss her cheeks all over, making her smile softly. My finger trails down her nose, across her freckles.

She's so fucking stunning, she knocks the air from my chest.

"Ella," I whisper, my eyes flicking between hers. "Tell me what happened, baby."

"So much," she whimpers, inhaling deeply. "So fucking much."

I nod. I'd figured. "Okay. Start with something small." She eyes me questioningly. "Where are we? What is this place?"

Her mouth opens, but before she can get anything out, a sharp voice cuts through the room.

"You, Mr. Morris, are in the Intensive Care Unit of the Les Beaux Voyous Compound, hidden twenty feet under the heart of San Francisco. Now, please remove your hands from Ms. Moreau before I have the guards remove them for you."