LOGINAnya's POVHe gestured toward the door. "Just opposite, across the hall. Close enough that you can call me if you need anything, but far enough to give you privacy. There's an intercom system too—there's a panel by the bed if you need to reach me and don't want to get up."Of course there was an intercom system. Of course this penthouse had every possible amenity and convenience."Thank you," I said again, feeling like the words were inadequate but not knowing what else to say. "Thank you for all of this, Orion. For the room, for bringing me here, for everything. I don't know how I'll ever—""Stop," he said gently but firmly, holding up a hand. "You don't need to keep thanking me, Anya. I want to help you. I *need* to help you. After everything that's happened, after..." He trailed off, his jaw tightening. "Just let me do this. Please."I nodded, my throat tight with emotion.Then a thought occurred to me—something I'd been wondering about but had been too afraid to ask until now. I b
Anya's POVI tried to take a step toward the building entrance, determined to walk on my own, to not be completely helpless. But my knees wobbled dangerously, and I had to grab onto Orion's arm to keep from falling."I'm sorry," I whispered, frustrated with my own body's weakness. "I thought I could—"Before I could finish the sentence, Orion had swept me up into his arms, lifting me effortlessly like I weighed nothing at all. One arm supported my back while the other came under my knees, holding me securely against his chest."Orion, you don't have to—" I started to protest, but he cut me off with a look."You're exhausted and you're healing," he said firmly but gently. "Let me help you."I wanted to argue, wanted to insist that I could walk, that I didn't need to be carried like some helpless damsel. But honestly, being in his arms felt safe and warm, and I was so tired that the thought of trying to walk all the way to his penthouse—however far that was—made me want to cry.So I jus
Anya's POVWe made our way through the hospital corridors—past the nurses' station where several nurses called out warm goodbyes and well-wishes, past other patients' rooms, through the main lobby with its institutional furniture and outdated magazines. People stared at me as we passed. I knew I still looked pretty bad—the bruises on my face were fading but still visible, and I moved stiffly and carefully like every motion hurt.Let them stare. I was alive. That was more than Kennedy had intended.Finally, we made it outside into the bright afternoon sunshine. I squinted against the light, my eyes having gotten used to the dim hospital room over the past week. The fresh air felt amazing after days of breathing recycled, antiseptic-scented hospital air. I took a deep breath—as deep as my ribs would allow—and felt something in my chest ease slightly.Orion's car was waiting at the curb, his driver standing beside it. The same driver who'd rushed me to the hospital that terrible night, t
Anya's POVWhat if he let me down again? What if this care and attention was just temporary, just guilt over what had happened, and eventually he'd go back to his regular life and leave me behind again?I hated that I thought that way. I hated that I couldn't just accept his help and his kindness without questioning it. But five years of Kennedy's manipulation and abuse had taught me not to trust easily, not to believe promises without proof.Today, though, I was trying to focus on the positive.I was finally leaving the hospital.The doctors had cleared me this morning, declaring that while I still needed rest and follow-up appointments and probably some physical therapy for my ribs, I was stable enough to continue my recovery at home rather than taking up a hospital bed. I'd been both relieved and terrified when they'd told me.Relieved because I desperately wanted to get out of this sterile, antiseptic-smelling room with its uncomfortable bed and constant beeping monitors. Relieved
Anya's POVI had been in the hospital for a week now, and slowly—so painfully slowly—my injuries were healing.The doctors kept telling me I was making good progress, that my body was responding well to treatment, that I was lucky to be alive. Lucky. That word felt strange every time I heard it. I didn't feel lucky. I felt broken and bruised and like every single part of me hurt in ways I hadn't even known were possible.But I was alive. And I was getting better. That had to count for something.The swelling in my face had gone down considerably over the past few days. I could finally open both eyes now, though the left one was still tender and the skin around it was a sickly yellow-green color as the bruise faded. My split lip had scabbed over and was healing, though it still pulled painfully whenever I talked or ate. The worst of the bruises on my face were turning from deep purple to lighter shades of blue and brown, slowly working their way through the rainbow of colors that meant
Orion's POVI couldn't leave. The thought of walking away from her right now, of not being here if she woke up scared or in pain or needing me—it was unbearable. So I stayed.Very carefully, I eased her back down onto the pillows, making sure her head was properly supported, making sure the IV line wasn't tangled, making sure she was comfortable. She made a small sound in her sleep—not quite a whimper, not quite a sigh—and my heart clenched painfully in my chest.I pulled the thin hospital blanket up over her shoulders, tucking it gently around her. Then I settled into the uncomfortable plastic chair beside her bed, positioning it as close to her as I could get it without being in the way of any of the medical equipment.And I watched her as she slept.Her face was still a mess of bruises and swelling, the colors already deepening into darker purples and blues that would probably get worse before they got better. Her lip was split and crusted with dried blood that the nurses hadn't qu
Anya’s POVI jumped, a wave of panic running through me. It was Orion. “Have you picked up my clothes?” His voice was calm, but I could sense the edge beneath it, the kind that made me obey instantly.“Yes, sir,” I replied quickly, my voice trembling. “I’ve delivered them to your house and… I’m abo
Anya’s POVThe grief that hit me that day still had sharp edges. I remembered clutching the hospital blanket to my chest, feeling empty, like a part of me had been ripped away forever. I hadn’t just lost a baby—I had lost a piece of my soul, a piece of hope that I had clung to for so long. My hands
Anya’s POVI picked up my fork and took a cautious bite. The honey melted on my tongue, sweet and rich, and the bacon was perfectly crisp. I had barely tasted food like this in days. The simple act of eating, under his watchful gaze, felt both comforting and tense. I chewed slowly, trying not to ma
Anya’s POVMonday morning came too quickly. My alarm rang, sharp and annoying, and when I opened my eyes, they felt heavy and sore. I could still taste the tears that dried on my lips. My pillow was damp, and for a moment I just lay there, staring at the ceiling, wishing I could stay in bed and hid







