CHAPTER FOUR — THE MAN WHO WOULDN’T LET GO

CHAPTER FOUR — THE MAN WHO WOULDN’T LET GO

Night settled over St. Haven’s like a tired sigh, the rain softening into a slow, steady drum against the windows. Most patients had fallen asleep. Lights dimmed. Footsteps quieted.

But inside Trauma Room Three, peace was impossible.

Adrian wouldn’t close his eyes.

Not unless Liana stayed within arm’s reach.

She sat beside his bed, spine straight, one hand resting lightly on the blanket. His fingers locked around hers like metal cuffs warm, heavy, unyielding.

He watched her.

Not blinking.

Not breathing normally.

Not even pretending to sleep.

His gaze was a storm: dark, searching, almost feverish.

“You’re real,” he murmured at one point, voice rough from earlier shouting.

“Unfortunately,” she replied dryly.

But the corner of his mouth twitched just barely as if her sharpness soothed him.

The doctor had tried sedating him again. Useless. The moment the syringe came near, Adrian snarled and tightened his grip like she was being threatened, not him.

So Liana simply sat.

It reminded her of her first life hours of waiting, comforting, sacrificing. But the person she was now? She felt none of the old fear. None of the desperate devotion.

Only clarity.

Power.

And a cold curiosity for this obsessed, unmoored man who clung to her like instinct.

The monitor beeped steadily. Nurses whispered outside the door. Rain tapped the glass.

At last finally his eyes drooped.

Liana exhaled.

His fingers slackened.

Very slowly, very carefully, she slid her hand out from his.

And for the first time since he’d grabbed her in that room of chaos she stood.

Her joints ached slightly, reminding her she had been sitting for hours. She stretched her fingers, appreciating the return of circulation.

She turned to leave.

She took exactly four steps.

And then

His heartbeat on the monitor spiked.

She froze.

“Liana?”

His voice hoarse, broken, terrified cut through the dark.

No footsteps yet.

No stumbling.

Just a sound so raw it seemed carved from bone.

She closed her eyes. “Of course.”

She turned.

Adrian was sitting up, breath sharp, hair tousled, eyes crazed with panic.

He looked like a man waking from drowning.

He looked… betrayed.

“You left,” he said. Not shouted. Whispered.

And somehow that was worse.

“I went to speak with the doctor,” she answered evenly.

He shook his head. “You left.”

His hands were gripping the sheets so hard his knuckles were white. Like he was fighting the urge to stand, come to her, rip himself off the IV lines if necessary.

She stepped closer.

One step.

Two.

His breathing steadied with each one.

When she finally reached his side, his shoulders slumped not in relief, but in surrender.

He reached for her wrist again. His fingers paused, hovering, as if expecting rejection.

She allowed it.

He took her wrist gently this time, as if the world would break if he held too tightly.

His voice lowered.

“I don’t… like it when I wake up and you’re gone.”

Liana studied him.

His eyes dark and beautiful like wet ink held a confusion that bordered on devastation.

He truly didn’t understand why he reacted this way.

He didn’t recognize the obsession blooming under his skin.

He only knew one truth:

She left → panic

She returned → calm

Simple.

Primal.

Dangerous.

“You should sleep,” she said softly.

His thumb brushed her pulse as if memorizing it. “You have to stay.”

“I’ll stay nearby.”

He frowned like a child denied candy. “Here,” he insisted, tapping the mattress.

Liana arched a brow. “Absolutely not.”

He lowered his gaze, lashes trembling not seductive, but genuinely shaken. “I won’t sleep unless I know you’re safe.”

“That’s not your responsibility.”

“Then why does it feel like it is?”

For a moment, the question hung between them heavy, trembling, filled with instinct neither of them understood.

Because in her past life, he had ruined her.

Because in this life, he clung to her like salvation.

Because fate had twisted itself into knots between them pain, fear, obsession, rebirth.

Because it was written in the book.

Because she had broken the book.

She sighed and moved the chair closer to the bed.

“Fine. Here.”

He watched every motion like a starving man being fed.

She sat.

His hand remained on her wrist.

His breathing finally slowed.

Minutes passed.

Hours softened.

The storm faded outside.

And at last finally Adrian Jin, the man who had once destroyed her, slept.

Because she was near.

Because in this life, her presence was stronger than his memories.

Liana leaned back, eyes drifting to the ceiling.

A bitter smile curved her lips.

“Sleep,” she whispered. “When you wake up, the real game begins.”