Page 69 of Legacy (The Sovereigns #2)

Angelo

T he fluorescent light overhead hums like a fucking hornet in my ear.

She’s sitting on the hospital bed, stiff as steel, trembling like glass. Hands clenched in her lap, knees pressed together, jaw tight enough to shatter.

She won’t look at me. She hasn’t said a word since we left the warehouse, and I—God help me—I don’t know how to fix this. I’m the one who put her in that chair with my past choices. Not Karekin. Not Gio. Me.

The nurse tried. The doctor tried.

She won’t let anyone touch her.

She let me carry her. Let me hold her. But that was survival. Not trust. Not forgiveness.

I crouch in front of her. “Tesoro,” I murmur, voice low. “You have to let them examine you. Please. Just to make sure you’re okay. I’ll be right here.”

She shakes her head, violently, like the thought itself is poison.

“No. I know what you think, but I didn’t let them.”

I freeze.

Everything inside me stills.

No. No, no, no—

“No, I—” My voice catches. I force the words through the lump in my throat. “Adriana, if they did…”

My chest heaves once, the thought cutting so deep I almost choke on it.

I’ll kill every man who touched her. I’ll burn this entire fucking city down.

“I would never think you let them.”

Her eyes meet mine.

Raw.

Rage and shame and something else, something broken, burn behind her gaze.

And it guts me. Because I did this. I made her my wife, dragged her into my war, and now she’s shivering in a hospital bed trying to prove to me that she didn’t want to be taken, hurt...

“I fought him off,” she says.

The breath leaves my lungs in a rush.

“They thought they were locking me in a cage with him? ” She shakes her head a bitter chuckle escaping her.

Her lip curls, fury slicing through the tremor in her voice. “No, he was locked in with me .”

Her voice cracks, barely a whisper.

“The one with the phone had to drag his body away. He didn’t get to touch me.”

I nod, trying to process it, but the words stick.

She fought. Of course she did. My wife .

“ Drag his body?”

She nods again.

“I snapped his neck.”

Silence.

The buzzing fluorescent light hums above us. The world seems to narrow to the fire in her eyes.

My heart thunders .

She was alone. Caged. And she still fought like hell.

That’s who she is.

And I let it happen.

Her jaw flexes, rage flashing across her face, her fingers digging into the blanket, pulling it taut across her lap.

“I wanted him to feel it,” she spits out, voice sharp, shaking. “I wanted him to know it was me.”

Her eyes cut to mine, hard, daring me to flinch, to pity her.

I don’t.

Because God, I’ve never loved her more than in this moment.

“I don’t regret it,” she says, her voice low, steady. “I’d do it again.”

Her breath shudders, her shoulders trembling with the effort to keep it together, but her chin stays high.

“You hear me?” she demands, her glare cutting into me. “I’d do it again!”

My eyes burn, but I swallow it down, giving her what she needs.

I reach for her, cupping her face in my hands, letting my thumbs brush over the tension in her jaw.

“I know,” I rasp. “Of course you would.”

I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I’ll say it for the rest of my life if she lets me stay hers.

I press my forehead to hers, breathing her in, letting her feel that she’s not alone.

“Do you want to go home?” I whisper.

She exhales, a ragged, defiant breath, and nods.

“Take me home.”

“I will,” I promise, pulling back to meet her eyes, letting her see it. “No one will touch you. Ever again. I swear it.”

Her eyes close, her hands unclenching just slightly in her lap.

And for the first time all day, I feel her let go.

Not in surrender.

But in trust.

Enough to hope.

Enough to breathe again.