The initial feeling that I experienced was warmth.
Not mine.
Another people.
It was faint but there—around my fingers, grounding me, stopping me in my tracks before I even opened my eyes.
And then the pain. A throbbing, aching pain in my leg, spreading like wildfire in my nerves. My body was weighed down by exhaustion. The antiseptic smell filled my lungs, pure and strong.
A hospital.
The recollections overwhelm me like a crashing wave.
The warehouse. The shot. The look on Lorenzo's face when I fell.
I breathed in deeply. My fingers tightened. The warmth surrounding my hand constricted.
I pried my eyes open, wincing at the light. The ceiling had been white, odd. Machines hummed softly by my side, their rhythmic beeping filling the silence. And then—I saw him.
Lorenzo.
His forehead rested on the edge of the mattress next to me, his hand still around mine. It was a tight, hard hold, as if even in sleep, he refused to let go. I swallowed hard. He looked different.
Not the ruthless tycoon with sharp tongue and impenetrable eyes. Not the master planner who was always one step ahead.
Just Lorenzo.
His otherwise impeccable hair was dishevelled, his shirt rumpled. The lightest shadow of stubble shaded his jaw and his face—God, his face—carried exhaustion in every line.
He hadn't left.
Something inside my chest constricted, odd and terrifying. Before I could stop it, my fingers curled slightly around him. Lorenzo moved.
His hand clamped mine more tightly for a split second before his head lifted. His inscrutable, dark eyes locked onto mine. Relief overwhelmed his face. For a moment only.
Then, he was moving.
Doctor, he bellowed loudly, his voice raw from lack of sleep and something else. "She's awake.".
I hardly had time to process it before he confronted me once more, his eyes scanning my face, my body, as though he had to double-check that I was actually there.
"You with me?" Now his tone was softer, contemplative.
I swallowed, my dry throat. "Yeah.".
Lorenzo breathed deeply, stroking his face with a hand. He felt up straighter, but his hand—his hand did not release mine.
My beeping alarm clock betrayed me, my heart racing.
Lorenzo's gaze darted to the machine. His lips compressed slightly together, but he remained silent.
The physician arrived, asking questions, checking my vital signs. I answered in staccato responses; my mind split between the doctor's terminology and the guy next to me.
Because he was still holding my hand. Because something had shifted.
I should have stepped back. Should have said something, anything, to break whatever was happening. But I didn't. And neither did he.
The physician finished his checkup and prescribed Lorenzo instructions for looking after me—like he was looking after me. Lorenzo nodded, taking in every detail, his fingers still wrapped around mine like a silent promise.
As the physician departed, the quiet between us became more pronounced.
I ought to have spoken sooner.
But Lorenzo did.
His voice was quiet. Controlled.
"You killed the living daylights from me", Reina.
I swallowed. "I had to do something.".
His jaw muscles contracted. "No, you didn't.".
"Yes, I did." My voice was husky but firm. "Sofia—"
"Is still alive," he snapped. "And you almost weren't."
I winced. Not at what he said, but at how he said them.
The edge in his voice.
The rawness.
I had never seen Lorenzo Hudson lose his temper. Had never heard his voice crack with anything short of calculated intent.
But now—
Now, his eyes had something I didn't yet know how to name.
Something too deep. Too dangerous.
I stretched in order not to look.
"How long have I been out?"
"Nearly a day."
I nodded on purpose. "And you…?
He didn't reply.
Didn't have to.
The exhaustion on his face said it all.
He hadn't gone.
Something stupid and reckless stirred inside me.
I tightened my fingers around his.
Just slightly. Just enough for him to notice.
His eyes rapidly returned to mine.
The tension shifted.
Thickened.
I could feel his pulse against my palm. Strong. Steady.
My own treasonous heartbeat stuttered. The machine beeped
once.
Lorenzo heard it.
I saw the glimmer of humour in his eyes, how the corner of his mouth curled upward slightly. Damn him. I drew my eyes back. "We need to find Sofia." We will. His voice was firm. No doubt. No scepticism. I met his eyes again. And for the first time, I did believe him. Not because I wanted to. But as I knew Lorenzo Hudson never made a promise he couldn't keep. And he wasn't letting me go now, sure as heck.
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