Fated Series. Book #2
"Be possessive of me, own me, keep me, because if you do then nothing and no one else can." - Maddox.
My name is Maddox Vallero, and I'm dead.
Well, that's not quite true. I'm alive in the breathing, walking, talking sense-but...
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Chapter 37 Is this what healing means? Maddox
The knock on the door pulled us apart. I expected the doctor, but instead, Kirsan strolled in, hands stuffed into his jean pockets, looking like he had all the time in the world. "These doors aren't soundproof, you do realize that, right?" His tone was flat, but there was a slight edge of amusement lurking beneath it.
I frowned, already too drained for his observations. "Aware now," I muttered.
"You've given the nurses' station enough gossip to last them the rest of the night. Hell, I think even the corpses in the morgue are fully up to date on how much you love Sophia." He cocked a brow, clearly enjoying himself. "But since you two seem to have reached some kind of grand resolution, let me share the actual important information I've gathered. Based on what the nurse told me—and, granted, I don't know her qualifications, but I also managed to get a glance at the chart—it seems like the kid's condition is pretty standard."
He walked further into the room, completely uninvited, as if he owned the place. Behind him, Mateo followed, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else. He shot me a slanted look of annoyance. "I kept him out as long as I could," he muttered. "But you know how he is."
Kirsan barely glanced over his shoulder. "You said they needed to talk it out. They've talked."
Mateo zipped up his red jacket, his hair a bit of a mess like he'd just rolled out of bed. "And how exactly are you sure they were done?"
Kirsan shrugged. "Didn't know, didn't care. But a hospital, of all places, is not the best setting for a dramatic declaration of undying love."
I scoffed. As far as I was concerned, this place was as good as any. It got me results, and that's all that mattered. "And what would you know about undying love?" I shot back, purely irritated at the fact that Sophia had shifted away from me the second he walked in.
"Nothing," he admitted with a lazy smirk. "But you won't catch me shouting about it in a hospital, either." His nose wrinkled slightly as he took in the room. The disgust in his expression wasn't much different from the one curling in my stomach, but for entirely different reasons. Kirsan hated hospitals because of their sterilization, always muttering that "if they have to bleach it to kill it, I want nothing to do with it." For me, the sharp scent of chemicals was a permanent fixture in my memory, something that lodged itself deep into my bones like a stain that wouldn't wash out. The memory hit me like a freight train, uninvited and unstoppable. The chaos. The blood. The way Mateo had collapsed in my arms the moment the paramedics arrived. His weight, all muscle and dead weight, nearly took me down with him, but I held on. I had to. Because even as he slipped out of consciousness, his grip on my shirt was iron-clad, as if letting go meant losing everything, he begged.
Even as his breath rattled in his chest, even as the paramedics worked frantically around Lina, pressing gauze against her wounds, injecting her with painkillers that barely seemed to register—he begged.
