Chapter 27

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Wyn

A group of us have been in the hospital waiting room for hours, and for most of that time, I’ve been staring numbly out the window. I’m still wearing the same blood-soaked clothes, and I haven’t even washed my hands. Truth be told, I’m afraid to. I know it’s crazy, but Lucas’ blood on my hands feels like my last, very tenuous connection to him—and I can’t bear the thought of washing that down the drain.

Tears roll down my face as I watch cars pull in and out of the parking lot. It’s so weird—people just going on with their lives, totally unaware that this catastrophic thing has happened. It feels like the Earth should have stopped rotating the second that knife sank into Lucas’ chest. But it didn’t. How strange.

I guess it was just my world that stopped rotating.

“Here,” Lux says, pushing a paper cup into my line of vision. “I got us some coffee. It’s a latte. I mean, allegedly. It's from one of those vending machines, so who knows.”

Everyone is here—Lux, Roman, and the rest of the guys. Turns out, Jackson and Ash weren’t badly hurt. Christian had a deep knife wound on his arm that needed stitches. Gabriel is dead, and Lucas is hanging on, but in critical condition. They rolled him into surgery about an hour ago.

I accept the latte, but I don’t drink it.

“Maybe we should get you home, so you can get some rest,” Lux offers gently. “The doctor said Lucas would be in surgery for a couple more hours, at least.”

I shake my head. “No, I can’t—” Emotion rises in my throat like bile. “—I won’t leave.”

“Right, totally,” Lux says. “I get it.”

I turn to look at her, gesturing helplessly with my free hand. “He just…threw himself in harm's way to save me.”

I keep replaying that moment, over and over, in my head, wondering if I could have done something different. If only I’d gone into the house when Lucas told me to…

Lux rubs my back. “I know, babe. He’s going to be okay.”

There’s no way she could know that. Jackson’s uncle called in a team of world-class surgeons, and they don’t even know if Lucas will make it.

I glance around the room. Jackson is sitting in a chair, staring off into space. Ash is on the phone, and Christian is pacing on the far side of the room, talking to Roman.

“Are Lucas’ parents coming?” I ask Lux, worried for Christian. He looks rough, and Christian never looks rough. He usually has a chill, relaxed vibe that’s completely gone now. I wonder if it’ll ever come back.

“Um, apparently, they’re in the Bahamas right now,” Lux says.

“But they’re getting the first flight out, right?”

Lux pushes out a breath. “They asked Roman to keep them updated, but they don’t have plans to leave until tomorrow morning. Something about a financial meeting their dad can’t miss…”

I blink at her. “Are you serious? Their son could be dying, but fuck that, because they have a meeting? ”

“Yeah,” Lux says, pulling air through her teeth. “I know. It’s, uh…yeah.”

Wow, Lucas wasn’t lying when he said his parents don’t give a fuck about him or his brother. The fucking cunts. My parents are pretty checked out, too, but I’d like to think they’d cancel a fucking meeting if I were knocking on death’s door.

Jezus.

Anger burns in my chest for Lucas, but I try my hardest to put his shitty parents out of my mind, because, in the end, they don’t fucking matter. What matters is Lucas living past the next few hours.

God, bile rises in my throat just thinking about that.

“Do you know who those guys were?” I’m finally brave enough to ask Lux. “I’m guessing they’re another secret society? I heard them call themselves Shadow and Ash.”

She shakes her head. “If Roman knows, he won’t talk about it. I think he’s trying to shield me from as much secret society drama as possible.” She lifts her hands helplessly. “He obviously can’t shield me from all of it, but I know he tries.”

“I can’t blame him,” I say, glancing down at the coffee that’s going cold in my hand. I take a sip and immediately regret it. Even with milk, the coffee is so bitter it makes me wince.

It’s another hour before one of the surgeons finally walks in, and we all immediately come to attention.

“How is he?” Christian asks.

“He’s out of surgery,” the surgeon answers. “We ran into a few problems, which is why it took us so long, mainly with…” I’m listening without actually hearing her. She throws out several medical terms, and I cling to them without having any real idea what they mean. “...but he’s stable now. It was close when he was brought in, though. Very close. Lucas is a lucky guy.”

Christian shifts on his feet. “How close was it?”

The surgeon sighs. “If someone hadn’t put pressure on his wound until the paramedics arrived, then he wouldn’t have made it. The blood loss would have been too great. It was that close.”

Christian nods. “When can we see him?”

“He’s on his way to the recovery room. You can see him as soon as we get him situated.”

We all thank the surgeon, and after she leaves, Christian turns to Ash. “Yo,” Christian says. “I know that was you, jumping in right after the attack. My brother is here because of you, and I just wanted to say thanks.” He gives Ash a fist bump. “You’re solid.”

Oh, damn. “You’re solid” is basically bro-speak for “You’re one of us now,” which is huge because the other guys never really accepted Ash as a Sacred Son. I guess that’s changed, now. A trauma bond is a powerful thing.

It’s another hour before a nurse comes to tell us Lucas is awake, and that we can see him, one at a time. “Which one of you is Wyn?” the nurse asks.

All eyes shift to me.

“Um, that’s me,” I say, stepping forward.

“He’s asking to see you.”

Oh. My gaze shifts to Christian, and he nods, just slightly, giving me permission to see his brother first.

“You can follow me,” the nurse says, walking out. “I’ll show you where he is.”

“Okay, thanks,” I say, following the nurse. She leads me up to the second floor, and through the maze of white, sterile hallways. Abruptly, she stops and holds her hand out, indicating the open door in front of us.

“Thanks,” I say as she walks away.

I can hear machines beeping inside the room, which makes me hesitate. What am I walking into? How will Lucas look? I suck in a deep breath and focus on calming my nerves. Just thinking about him hooked up to a bunch of machines is going to gut me, and I don’t want to cry.

Another nurse walks by, stopping when she notices me. “Can I help you?” She glances at my visitor sticker. It has Lucas’ last name written in big block letters. “Oh, are you the girlfriend? Thank God.” She pulls her clipboard to her chest and waves me over to his door. “He’s been asking for you since he woke up.”

As she walks into his room, she calls out in a cheerful tone, “Mr. West, I have someone here to see you.”

Thank God for her, because having her here gives me a second to acclimate. First, I take in the enormity of Lucas’ room. It’s huge, painted in soothing whites and grays, with plants, a couch, and a huge television on the opposite wall. The only thing that gives it away as a hospital room is the oversized bed to the left and the wall of beeping machines surrounding it.

I swallow, my eyes traveling to Lucas. He’s lying in the middle of the hospital bed, hooked up to a million different machines. Just seeing that causes emotion to bubble up in my chest.

The nurse fusses with one of the machines as I stand in the doorway awkwardly. Finally, she waves me over. “Come on, hon. He’s not going to bite.” She flashes him a cheeky smile. “Well, I don’t know, maybe he does bite, but he’s still coming off the anesthesia, so he should be pretty docile.”

I laugh at the joke and step deeper into the cold, cavernous room. Lucas is sitting up slightly, a thin gray blanket covering his lower half, a mess of cords taped to his tanned chest, and arms. As I enter his line of vision, his lips stretch into a smile, and he tilts his head back against his pillows.

“Thank you,” I say to the nurse. She throws me a wink as she walks past me and out the door.

As I step closer to the bed, I squeak out an awkward, “Hey.”

His eyes search my face, and when he speaks, his voice is raw, “You came.”

I glance down at my bloody hands and sweatshirt. Maybe I should have cleaned up a little before seeing him. “I never left,” I half-laugh.

He reaches out for my hand, threading his fingers through mine. “I thought you hated me.”

I just can’t get over the fact that he’s lying here, in front of me, alive. For a second there, I was convinced he would die. I couldn’t imagine anyone surviving a knife to the chest. And in that moment, when I thought he was lost to me forever, I forgave him.

For everything.

“I thought I hated you, too,” I say with a shallow smile. “But then you had the audacity to throw yourself at a lunatic for me, so…” I shrug. “...I guess I hate you a little less now.”

He laughs, which quickly dissolves into a cough. He lifts his other hand and holds it lightly against his chest. “Oh, shit, that hurts. Don’t make me laugh.”

I start to pull away. “Should I get the nurse?”

He tightens his fingers around mine and pulls me back. “No, no.” He holds my hand against his lips, his eyes fluttering closed, like just having me close is everything. “Stay. Please, Wyn. You’re all I need.”

I squeeze his hand. “I’m not going anywhere, baby.”

Opening his eyes, he lifts a brow. “Oh, I’m your baby, ” he says with a groggy, sexy-as-fuck smile. He’s so loopy, I wonder if he’s going to remember any of this later.

“I didn’t say that,” I say, pulling my hand away, so I can grab a chair and pull it next to his bed.

“Oh, you said it,” he teases. “I heard it. You can’t deny it now.”

I sink into the chair, and he reaches out to me again. It’s like he doesn’t want to be separated, even for a second. We sit like that for a few minutes, holding hands, listening to the beeping machines, and just…I don’t know, absorbing each other.

Finally, his eyes meet mine. “Christian told me that Gabriel didn’t make it.”

I nod, swallowing, remembering the moment that knife was pulled across Gabriel’s throat. “Yeah,” I say, glancing down, so he doesn’t see the tears gathering in my eyes. I blink a few times, then look back up at him. “Who are Shadow and Ash?”

What’s truly terrifying is that those monsters are still out there somewhere. What will they do when they find out Lucas survived? Will they come back to finish what they started?

Lucas looks away, and I can tell he doesn’t want to tell me.

“Lucas, you have to be open with me,” I say, practically pleading with him. “Whatever’s happening, involves me, too. I have to know what’s going on.”

He squeezes my hand, and I can see the hesitation on his face.

“Fine,” I say abruptly. “Just tell me one thing—do you think they’ll be back?”

He sits up a little and leans toward me, wincing at the pain moving causes him. He looks into my eyes, and my heart jolts in response. “Gwendolyn Barker, I love you more than anything, and I’d rather die than let anyone hurt you.”

Now I know that’s true. He just showed me how far he’s willing to go to protect me. But that’s the problem…

I sit back in my chair, holding his gaze. “See that’s what you’re not getting, Lucas…” I pause, so I can swallow back the tears that are threatening to break free. “Watching you die is something I never want to do again, because…” I pull in a deep breath. “I love you, too.”

There’s a long stretch of silence as he stares at me, his handsome face blank, like he can’t comprehend what I’m saying. “So, what does this mean?” he finally asks. “For us?”

“No idea. I mean, you’re arrogant, controlling, toxic as fuck , a little murder-y…” I sigh and shake my head. “But when I saw that knife—” I cut myself off before the sob escapes my throat. I swallow it back. “—it felt like something was being ripped out of me. It felt like…” My eyes flick up to meet his. “...something inside me was dying with you.”

With a groan, he sits up, reaches over, and pulls me awkwardly onto the oversized bed with him, which fucks with his spider web of tubes. A few alarms start going off as I curl against his warm body, careful not to touch his injury. My head rests on the pillow next to his, and when he turns his head, our lips meet.

A team of nurses skids into the room, ready to respond to the alarms. Lucas holds his hand up. “I’ll pay you each triple your salary if you give us ten minutes.”

They glance at each other and shrug, and two of them leave the room. The third nurse comes over to silence the machines. “You’re lucky these aren’t critical.” As she turns to leave, she points at Lucas. “ Five minutes. And if you say anything to anyone, I’ll deny everything.”

“Deal,” he mutters, brushing his lips across my forehead. When she leaves, he kisses me—but there’s something different about this kiss. It’s soft, filled with emotion, and with the promise of a new beginning…