Undercover Hate

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Love/Hate Relationship-More Hate Than Love

I wake up in a hospital room, the antiseptic smell assaulting my senses. My body aches, a dull throb radiating from my side where the dagger had pierced me. I look down to find a bandage wrapped around my waist, white and pristine against the hospital gown I'm wearing. My fingers graze over the material, the realization that I'm safe washing over me, but it's tainted with the bitterness of failure.

I squint against the bright light, blinking to clear my vision. My gaze lands on Ace, slumped in a chair beside my bed. His navy blue dress shirt is blood-stained, the fabric clinging to him in a way that makes him look ruggedly worn. His head tilts slightly, and I can see the dark shadows under his eyes, evidence of sleepless nights and stress. As I stir, his eyes shoot open, wide and alert, like he's just chugged a full cup of coffee.

"Adriana!" His voice is a mix of relief and something else I can't quite place. "You're awake!"

"Unfortunately for you," I mumble, my voice rough from disuse. I try to sit up, but pain shoots through my side, and I wince, falling back against the pillow. "Ugh. What happened?"

"You were out for a few days," Ace explains, leaning forward, the concern etching deeper lines on his face. "They had to treat the wound. It was pretty deep."

I take a breath, feeling the weight of failure settle in my chest. "The mission... I failed, didn't I? The art... it's still at risk."

"Not yet," he says, his tone turning serious. "We're going back tonight. One last chance to restore the art. The enemy agents went down, but the artwork needs to see the world."

My heart races at his words, a surge of determination coursing through me. "You mean it? We can still fix this?"

"Yeah, but first, you need to rest," Ace replies, though the gleam in his eyes tells me he's eager to get back out there. "You've been through a lot."

I shift slightly, trying to get comfortable. "What about you? You look like you haven't slept in a week."

He runs a hand through his hair, ruffling the dark strands. "I've been... busy," he says, his voice softer. "But I'm glad you're awake now. I can finally stop worrying."

A moment of silence hangs between us, charged with something unspoken. I reach out, brushing my fingers through his hair, a gesture that surprises even me. "You look like you need some calming," I say lightly, trying to ease the tension in the air.

Ace freezes for a second, then smirks, amusement lighting his features. "Wow, look at you, wanting to touch me. What's next, a heartfelt apology?"

"Shut up," I shoot back, rolling my eyes, though I can't suppress the smile tugging at my lips. "I'm just trying to be nice for once."

"I can't believe I'm hearing this," he teases, leaning into my touch. "Adriana, the ice queen, being all nurturing. Who would've thought?"

I laugh despite myself, the sound feeling strange and foreign after days of silence. "Don't get used to it. I'll go back to being a bitch as soon as I can."

"Please don't," he says, the sincerity in his eyes making me pause. "I kinda like this version of you."

His words hang in the air, and I feel a warmth spread through me, softening the harsh edges of our usual jokes.

"But seriously," he continues, his expression turning earnest. "You scared the hell out of me back there. I thought... I thought I was going to lose you."

My heart skips a beat at the vulnerability in his voice. "You didn't lose me, Ace. I'm tougher than I look."

"I know," he replies, a small smile breaking through. "But you can't always be the tough one. You need to let someone help you."