Page 58 of Brutal Heir (Ruthless Heirs #3)

A MIRACLE

A lessandro

My lids are heavy , the weight of the world pressing them closed, dragging me down into the dark where pain and memory blur into nothing.

Grisly images of the last time I was in a hospital room threaten to surface, smoke and flames loom at the corners of my vision, but I shove them back.

This isn’t about me. This is about Rory.

Forcing my weary eyes to remain open, I lean over the bed and hold her hand. I scan her motionless form, a fist squeezing my heart. I hate seeing her so still. It’s so unlike the bubbly, spirited woman I fell in love with.

Please wake up, Red.

At some point in the middle of the night, Rory was moved to a room in the ICU. I trailed after her in a fog, sinking into the seat beside her bed where I remained all night.

The monitors blink steadily in the dim glow of the overhead lights. She’s alive. And for now, it’s enough.

A soft knock on the door swings my head over my shoulder. “Come in,” I murmur, my voice hoarse and jagged, like I’ve been gargling glass.

Serena and Isabella walk in, holding Styrofoam cups in their hands and the unmistakable scent of coffee fills the small room.

“We figured you could use this.” Serena holds out a cup.

My stomach revolts at the idea. I slowly shake my head.

“Water?” Isabella asks. “You have to have something…”

“We can stay with her if you need a break,” Serena offers. “Get a breath of fresh air or something.”

I hate the idea of leaving her side for even a second. Though the hospital has been quiet, and there’s been no sign of the Quinlans or anyone else, I’m terrified to move.

I shift in my seat, and my bladder makes the decision for me. “Okay,” I mumble. “Just a quick bathroom break.”

“Take your time.” Bella squeezes my shoulders. “We’ll be right here.”

“Thanks.” Standing, every muscle squeals in protest. Damn, when was the last time I’d changed my bandages? Rory would be so disappointed in me. “Be right back,” I call out over my shoulder as I force my feet out the door.

After a quick trip to the urinal, I stare at myself in the mirror, arms crossed, blood still stiff on my shirt. Her blood. I haven’t changed. I can’t. Not until I know she’s truly out of danger.

Heaving out a breath, I splash some water on my face, hoping it’ll wake me up then march out into the hallway.

The elevator dings as I pass. I don’t look up at first.

“Hey, cuz, they’re here.” Matteo’s voice has my pulse skyrocketing.

I whirl at him, hand already on the gun at my hip. “Who?”

“The O’Sheas…”

Fury courses through my veins, polluting my insides. “That son of a bitch,” I growl.

“I figured you’d want to talk to them. They’re asking to see Rory, or Brigid, whatever…”

“Over my dead body,” I hiss as I slide into the elevator beside him.

The moment the elevator doors glide open on the floor below, I hear them.

The familiar hushed voices laced in that thick Irish accent. Then I see them, Bran and Blaine. Her piece of shit brothers who never fought for her. And behind them, her father, the asshole who sold her to the devil.

Pure wrath floods my body as I stalk toward the O’Shea men with Matteo at my side. They’re bandaged and bloodied. Conall’s final chaos didn’t spare them either.

“Where is she?” Bran demands, voice rough, bruised.

I prowl closer, eyes hard. “You don’t get to ask that.”

“We just want to see her,” Blaine adds, limping forward. His arm is in a sling. There’s dried blood at his temple. “We’re her family.”

I step in front of the elevator, shoulders squared. “You lost the right to that word the second you sold her off like cattle.”

Bran’s jaw tightens. “We didn’t?—”

“Didn’t what?” My voice is low, dangerous. “Didn’t force her into a marriage with a psychopath? Didn’t turn your back when she begged for help? Or maybe you’re here to apologize for handing her over like some bargaining piece?”

Their father finally speaks. “She was protected. That was the deal.”

My laugh is cold and hollow. “Protected? By that monster? Don’t pretend that tying her to Conall had anything to do with her. It was only a way to strengthen the O’Shea name.”

“She’s our blood,” Bran growls. “We were trying to save all of us.”

“Funny,” I snap. “She’s mine now. And I didn’t have to bleed her dry to prove it.”

Blaine flinches. “I didn’t know he’d go that far. I never would have told him?—”

My eyes cut to his. “What did you just say?”

He goes still, eyes wide like a man realizing he’s stepped on a live wire.

“You,” I growl, taking a step toward him. “It was you. You’re the one who gave her up?”

“I—I didn’t mean for it to happen like that,” he stammers. “I thought you already knew?—”

My fist slams into the wall beside his head, and Blaine flinches back with a curse. The plaster cracks beneath my knuckles.

“I’m going to fucking destroy you,” I hiss through my teeth, every word a bullet. “You almost got the woman I love killed. All for what? Money? A pat on the head from the Butcher?”

Bran shoves forward. “Don’t lay a fucking hand on him?—”

I can feel Matteo at my back and the faint click of his gun being cocked.

“You don’t want to finish that sentence,” I snarl, turning the full weight of my fury on him. “I will burn Quinlan’s empire to the ground. What makes you think I won’t level the rest of yours?”

Their father steps between us, his voice strained. “We’re trying to fix things. Please, let us see her.”

“You want to fix things?” I snap, ice in my voice. “Walk away. Live with what you did. Pray she wakes up and never remembers that her own brother sold her off for the price of a crappy car.”

Silence.

They don’t move. Neither do I.

“You’re not getting in that room. Not today.

Not ever. If you so much as breathe near her again without her permission, I’ll gut all three of you and paint the town with your entrails.

” I pause, allowing the threat to set in.

“I still might anyway. Depends on my mood when Rory wakes. You’re her family so I’ll give her the choice of what happens to you.

If it were up to me, you would already be hacked up into tiny pieces at the bottom of the river. ”

They stare at me like they’re seeing me for the first time. Not the polished heir to the Gemini empire. Not the man in the glossy pages of the magazine who fell in love with their sister. But the monster she tamed.

Too bad for them, the leash is off today. And I’m in no mood to be merciful.

“Now, get the fuck out of here before I change my mind.”

Old man O’Shea glares up at me for a long moment before he mutters something under his breath to his sons. The boys give me one more look before they follow him out, heads bowed.

Smart choice.

The moment the doors glide closed behind them, Matty dips his head in my direction then returns to his spot by the entrance.

“Thanks for looking out,” I murmur before turning for the elevator.

“I’ve got nowhere else to be, cuz.”

Without turning back, I can see the smile on Matteo’s face. When all of this shit is over and we get back to Manhattan, I have to remember to give my cousins a proper thank you.

I never could have done any of this without them.

The instant I’m back in the room with Rory, I release the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. I leave the fury behind as I reenter her room, where the only battle that matters is the one she’s fighting to stay alive.

Isabella must notice the turmoil because she tosses me a reassuring smile. “You didn’t miss anything. She’s still sleeping peacefully.”

Both of my cousins look dead on their feet.

“Thanks,” I murmur as I drop into the chair beside her bed, then rifle through my pocket for my wallet. “Why don’t you girls go find a hotel room and get some rest?” I hold out my credit card.

“We will when you do,” Serena replies, waving away my offering.

“It could be a while. The doctor said she may not wake up until tomorrow.” If at all. I keep that depressing thought tucked behind my teeth, refusing to acknowledge the possibility.

“Then we’ll just go get more coffee.” Serena shrugs and turns for the door and Isabella follows behind her. “Anything else we can get you?” she calls with one foot already out the door.

“Not hungry.”

“I’ll get you something anyway.”

Before I can object, they’re gone. And despite the ache in my chest, a faint smile pulls at the corner of my lip. I can’t imagine growing up in a family like the O’Shea’s. The Rossis and Valentinos may be fucked up, but when it comes down to it, we’d kill for each other.

Drawing in a breath, I take Rory’s hand and scoot the chair up to the bed, until my knees hit the mattress. Bending my forehead to hers, I close my eyes and just breathe her in.

I brush my knuckles gently over her cheek. “You once told me I looked like hell. Right now, I think I’ve got my old record beat, Red.” My voice hitches. “But I’d trade every breath I have left just to hear you insult me one more time.”

Her fingers twitch in mine. Barely. But I feel it.

My heart stops. “Rory?”

Nothing.

I lean in closer. “You don’t get to abandon me, do you hear me? I’ve survived gunfire, explosions, and the goddamn Quinlans, but I’m not surviving this.” I press a kiss to her temple. “I need you. More than I need my next breath. I love you, Rory Delaney.”

A shudder escapes me. I dig into my jacket pocket with shaking fingers and pull out the ring, an emerald the color of her eyes with the platinum band in Celtic knotwork.

I grabbed it before we went to that damned coffee shop.

Back when I’d come up with the grand plan of taking her out on a real date to propose. I grip it tight.

“I want to marry you. I want to wake up next to your crazy Irish fire every day for the rest of my life. I want to argue over toothpaste caps and you taking over my closet. I want it all, Red.”

A weak cough rattles the air.

Then a rasp. “You better not be lying about that proposal just to get me to wake up.”

My head jerks up. Her eyes are open. Glazed, watery, but open. Barely a smile, but it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in my whole damned life.

I can’t breathe. “Rory…”

“You got sappy on me,” she mumbles, lashes fluttering.

“Yeah, well,” I choke out a laugh through the tears I’m not even trying to hide. “You almost died, so you can forgive the dramatics.”

Her fingers curl weakly around mine. “You still owe me a ring.”

I drop to my knee beside the bed, pulling the emerald into the light. “I’ve had it for a while now actually, waiting for the moment I thought you’d say yes. Do you think now is good?”

Tears are running down her cheeks, silent and shining.

“Rory Delaney,” I whisper, my voice trembling, my heart pounding so loud I can barely hear myself. “Will you marry me?”

Her eyes widen, lips parting, but I don’t stop. I can’t stop, because everything I am is spilling out of me now.

“Will you let me spend the rest of my life proving to you that you’re not alone anymore? That you’re safe. That you’re loved.” My throat tightens, emotion clawing up as I stare at her, this fierce, broken, beautiful woman who has become the very air I breathe.

“I want to be the man who stands in front of every monster that tries to take your light. The man who will fight beside you, who will fight for you, who will never let you forget how strong you are, even on the days you can’t see it yourself.”

My hands are shaking as I reach for hers, pressing her trembling fingers to my lips.

“Marry me, Rory, and let me spend the rest of my life making sure no one ever tries to steal your fire again.”

She blinks slowly, then chokes back a sob. “Only if I get to pick the wedding cake.”

I laugh. Hard. Joy crackles through me like lightning. “Deal.”

“Then yes,” she whispers, her voice breaking as tears spill over her lashes. She presses a trembling hand to her mouth, a soft, ragged laugh slipping out as she tries to catch her breath. “God, Ale… yes.”

She lowers her hand, her eyes finding mine, and they’re shining with so much love and fear and hope that it steals the air from my lungs.

“Of course I’ll marry you,” she breathes, her voice shaking. “How could I not? You’re the only person who’s ever seen all of me, even the dark, ugly parts, and didn’t turn away. The only one who’s ever made me feel like I’m worth fighting for. Like I’m worth everything.”

She leans closer, cupping my face in her hands, her thumbs brushing away the tears I didn’t even realize were there. Her own tears drip onto her cheeks, but she doesn’t wipe them away.

“I’m yours, Ale. I’ve been yours for a long time. And I want this. I want you. All of it. The good, the bad, the messy, the beautiful.” Her breath hitches, and she leans her forehead against mine. “I want forever with you.”

I slide the ring onto her finger, her skin warm and trembling beneath mine. It fits like it was made for her. Because it was.

I lean in and kiss her, gentle, reverent, like a man kneeling before a miracle.

Because that’s exactly what she is.