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Will it?
Sasha sighed. The last time she’d been in a hospital had been the night of the robbery. Back then, she’d been too young, too scared to do anything but watch as others took control. But now…
In the hallway, there was no sign of her dad or sister.
God, if she could change things…
The journey to the ICU was endless. The elevator swooshing to a stop shot pain into her ribs, and every turn made her grimace.
As they approached the unit, the antiseptic smell grew stronger, more clinical. More frightening.
In the waiting area, Hawkeye stood near Damien and a woman she didn’t recognize.
Damien swept his gaze over her, his expression unreadable. “Looks like the two of you had a hell of a weekend.”
“Unfortunately.” Then, summoning courage, she met his gaze. “I’m sorry I dragged your friend into this.”
At that he lifted a shoulder. “I’m not sure there was anything you could have done to keep him away.”
At his understanding words, she summoned a half-smile. “Thank you.” She’d feel guilty about this for the rest of her life.
“I’m Catrina,” the woman standing next to him said.
“My apologies.” Damien’s gaze took in both of them. “Sasha, this is my fiancée.”
She had long, black hair, past her waist. Like it had been that night at the Den, Damien’s hair was fastened back with a strip of leather. Together, the pair were striking.
Where Damien had been empathetic, Catrina was somewhat standoffish. “Gregorio is one of my closest friends.”
Was there a note of warning in her voice?
If so, she didn’t blame the woman.
“He can never resist a damsel in distress.”
Her first guess had been right. Catrina cared for Gregorio and didn’t want to see him hurt.
She was thankfully saved from replying by the nurse saying, “Are you ready?”
“We won’t keep you,” Damien said.
“He’s been through a lot, and he’s still groggy,” the nurse warned as they approached his room. “Try not to excite him.”
The ICU room was stark, sterile, dominated by beeping machines and hanging IV bags.
Despite the warning and her bracing herself, nothing could have prepared her for being wheeled into the room.
The fluorescent lights cast harsh shadows across Gregorio’s face, making him look ghostly pale against the white sheets. Bandages covered his torso, stark and clinical. Tubes and wires snaked from his arms, monitoring every breath, every heartbeat.
This couldn’t be Gregorio—her protector, her warrior, her hero—the man who had always seemed larger than life.
Now he looked almost fragile, and she choked back a sob.
The nurse wheeled her closer.
His earring was missing. The small detail scared her as much as the machines and bandages. As if it had been yesterday, she remembered the first time she’d seen the earring catch the light, how it had made him seem dangerous and thrilling to her much-younger self. Now its absence felt like a reminder of how close she’d come to losing him forever.
For a moment, fighting for control over her runaway emotions, she squeezed her eyes shut.