KEIFER POV
"Jay-jay, please wake up. Come on, sis, open your eyes," Jare pleaded. His voice, usually so steady and commanding, was cracking like glass. He was hovering over her, his hands trembling as he tapped her cheek.
Nothing. She remained limp, her face as pale as the silk sheets—a ghost of the girl who usually gave us so much headaches. Seeing her like this, so fragile and broken by memories that should have stayed buried in hell, made my blood run cold.
"Jare, move!" I barked. My patience was gone, replaced by a raw, territorial instinct that screamed at me to take control.
I didn't wait for his permission. I shoved past him and scooped her up. Hell. She was too light. It felt like I was holding a dandelion that the wind was trying to steal. I didn't wait for the medics Jare had called; waiting meant losing time, and time was the one thing I wouldn't gamble with. I sprinted out of the house, my boots slamming against the pavement, and laid her in the back of my car like she was made of the finest porcelain.
I drove like a demon possessed. Behind me, the brothers followed in a frantic, screeching convoy. Every time I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw her pale, unconscious form, my grip on the steering wheel tightened until my knuckles turned white and the leather groaned in protest. Don't you dare leave me, Jay-jay. I haven't even punished you for scaring me yet.
When we burst through the ER doors, the atmosphere shifted instantly. Nurses rushed forward with a gurney, and for a split second, I didn't want to let go. My hands felt empty the moment they took her into the trauma ward.
We waited in the hallway—four of the most dangerous, feared men in the city, reduced to pathetic silence by one girl. Jare was pacing a hole in the floor. Aries was staring at his scarred arm, his face a mask of suppressed rage. Percy was leaning against the wall, eyes closed, probably praying to whatever god still listened to us.
Finally, the doctor emerged. He looked like he'd aged ten years in an hour. "You guys are her family?"
We stepped forward as one—a wall of muscle and menace. The doctor blinked, swallowed hard, and cleared his throat.
"Okay. I think you're aware of Miss Mariano's history," he said, his tone heavy. We all nodded. We knew the physical scars, but it was the mental ones currently ripping her apart from the inside.
"Physically, she's stable," he continued, "but her brain has undergone a massive 'unblocking.' When trauma of that level hits the conscious mind all at once, the nervous system shuts down to survive. It's a state of shock."
"Is she going to be okay?" I growled. It wasn't a question; it was a demand.
"She's waking up, but she's in a reactive state," the doctor warned. "She's experiencing 'Body Memories.' Her brain knows she's safe, but her body thinks it's still sixteen and trapped in that room. Be careful. Any sudden move, any touch... she might see you as her tormentors."
My stomach did a slow, painful flip. I was her fiancé. I was the man who was supposed to be her sanctuary, and now I was told my touch might be her worst nightmare.
"Can we see her?" Jare asked.
"One at a time. And keep your hands visible."
I looked at Jare. As much as I wanted to shove everyone aside, he was her blood. He'd been looking for her while I was still just a stranger to her world.
"Go," I muttered, leaning my head against the cold wall. "But tell her... tell her I'm right outside. I'm not moving an inch."
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JARE POV
I stepped into the room, and the sterile smell of the hospital hit me like a physical blow. Jay-Jay looked so small in that bed, her hand bandaged where the glass had sliced into her.
I sat down, my shoulders slumping. The weight of the last four years finally felt like it was crushing my bones.
"Jay," I called softly. I wanted to grab her hand and never let go, but I remembered the doctor's words and kept my hands on my knees where she could see them.
"I'm sorry," I whispered to her closed eyes. "I'm your big brother. I was supposed to be your shield, but I let the world hit you anyway."
The guilt was a physical ache. I thought finding her was the end of the nightmare. I didn't realize that while I was searching the streets, she was trapped in a mental cage. And the fact that our own mother had a hand in it... I wanted to burn everything to the ground.
"I didn't know, Jay. If I'd only fought harder to keep you with me instead of letting you go to the Philippines... none of this would have happened."
I saw her eyelashes flutter. A small, pained moan escaped her. My heart hammered against my ribs.
"Jay? Sis? It's Jare. You're safe. I've got you."
Her eyes opened, glazed and wild. For a second, that terrifying panic returned, but then she saw my face. She saw my hands.
"Jare?" she whispered.
"Yeah," I said, forcing a smile through the lump in my throat. "It's me. Your big, annoying brother. You're okay now."
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JAY JAY POV
Everything was heavy. The air felt thick with the smell of medicine, and every time I blinked, I saw those six shadows lurking in the corners of the room. I felt like a bird in a cage, and I needed out.
"Jare, can I go home? I don't want to be here," I pleaded.
Jare looked at me with that 'Kuya' look—the one where he wanted to argue but knew he'd lose. He knew me. He knew that for a girl like me, hospital walls felt like the walls of that basement. He nodded.
"I'll settle the papers. Keifer is outside. Do you... do you want to see him?"
"Keifer?" My heart did a weird little flip-flop. I was scared of him seeing me like this, but I needed him like I needed oxygen.
Jare squeezed my foot through the blanket—a safe, 'brotherly' distance—and left. A moment later, the door creaked.
Keifer didn't walk in with his usual 'I-own-the-world' swagger. He walked like he was stepping on landmines. He looked terrible—hair messy, shirt stained with my blood, eyes red. He sat in the chair, looking at me with so much intensity it made my skin tingle.
"I'm sorry," I whispered.
He didn't hesitate. He reached out and covered my hands with his. His palms were warm, solid, and real. They didn't feel like the cold hands in my dreams.
"Don't be. You did nothing wrong," he said, his voice deep and rough.
"I almost hurt you, Keifer. I didn't even know who you were." I looked down at our hands. "I'm dangerous. My head is... it's broken."
Keifer leaned in, making me look him in the eye. There was no fear there. Just that stubborn, arrogant devotion I'd fallen for.
"Jay, listen. I've been hit by professionals. You swinging a piece of glass because you were scared? That doesn't make you dangerous. It makes you a fighter. You were protecting yourself from ghosts, and honestly? Your aim was terrible anyway."
A small, watery laugh escaped me. Typical Keifer.
"I'm not going anywhere, Jay-jay. You're stuck with me. Scars, ghosts, and all."
I looked at him, feeling a tiny bit of the weight lift. "How can you still want this? I'm a mess."
"Because you're my mess," he insisted. "We're going home. We're going to get you some rest."
I gripped his hand tighter. The thought of going back to the house—even with the guys—felt too crowded. Too many eyes. Too many people waiting for me to break again.
"Keifer," I called out, my voice trembling. "I was thinking... can we go somewhere? Just us? Where nobody can find us?"
Keifer's eyes darkened, but he didn't ask why. He just squeezed my hand.
"Pack your things, wifey," he whispered, a hint of his old smirk returning. "If you want to disappear, I'm the best person to disappear with. Just tell me where, and I'll take you there, even if I have to kidnap you from your brothers myself."