جميع فصول : الفصل -الفصل 80

Orion's POVKennedy managed a weak nod, blood bubbling from his lips."Good," I said, releasing his hair and letting his head drop back down.I turned to Leon, who had been standing silently in the shadows the entire time, watching without judgment or comment."Keep him in the warehouse until morning," I ordered, my voice returning to its normal commanding tone. "Make sure he gets some water so he doesn't die from dehydration, but nothing else. No medical attention. Let him feel it. Then dump him somewhere public where someone will find him—an alley, a park, I don't care. Just make sure it's nowhere near the hospital or Anya's apartment."Leon nodded in understanding. "Consider it done, sir.""And Leon?" I added, meeting his eyes directly. "If he tries to contact Anya, if he tries to find her, if he so much as looks in her direction... you know what to do.""Understood," Leon said with a small, grim smile.I gave Kennedy one last look—broken and bleeding and pathetic—then turned and w

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

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warm goodbyes and well-wishes, past other patients' rooms, through the main lobby with its institutional furniture and outdated magazines.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 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 POVHot tears started streaming down my face before I could stop them. I'd been trying so hard to hold it together, to be strong, to focus on healing and moving forward. But this—this public humiliation, this complete distortion of the truth—it was too much.I curled up on my side, careful of my ribs, and let myself cry. Deep, gasping sobs that hurt my chest and made my head pound but that I couldn't hold back anymore.Each sob sent a fresh wave of pain through my broken ribs, sharp stabbing sensations that made me want to stop crying, to hold my breath, to do anything to make the physical pain stop. But I couldn't. The emotional pain was so much worse than the physical pain, so overwhelming and all-consuming that the hurt in my ribs barely registered as more than background noise.The tears came in hot, relentless waves, soaking into the expensive pillowcase beneath my cheek. My whole body shook with the force of my crying, trembling so hard that I had to wrap my arms around m