Page 11 of Final Vendetta

Her words were no louder than a whisper, but they shot through me like a live wire. Less than twenty-four hours ago, I feared I’d never hear that sweet melody again.

I looked up sharply and met Imogene’s eyes — hazy and barely open, but alive.

“You’re awake,” I said, my voice breaking with emotion. Relief flooded through me, filling every crack, every scar.

She smiled weakly, her grip tightening around mine. “You’re here.”

“Always, Imogene.” I brought her hand to my lips. “Always.”

Chapter Six

Imogene

My vision was blurry as I attempted to focus on my surroundings. The steady beeping, coupled with the strong scent of astringent, made it obvious I was in a hospital. But how did I get here?

I tried to put the pieces of last night together. At least Ihopedit was only last night.

I recalled driving up to Santa Monica for a much-needed weekend with Melanie and telling her that Gideon was really Samuel. I’d even shared all the things he’d done, as well as all the things he still planned to do.

Instead of reassuring me I’d done the right thing by walking away, she convinced me his actions didn’t make him a bad person. After all, my mother hadn’t killed my father in self defense. She did so because she couldn’t stomach the idea of living in a world with him in it anymore. Because if she didn’t take his life, he would hurt more people.

The same could be said for Gideon.

I’d jumped into my car and sped toward the freeway, wanting to get home as quick as possible.

Wanting to get toGideonas quick as possible.

The last thing I remembered was the sound of screeching tires and the scent of rubber.

Everything after that was a blur…

Until a few moments ago when a voice cut through the fog, talking about one of my favorite memories of Samuel at Hilton Head.

“How… How are you feeling?” Gideon asked, his worried gaze raking over my frame. I didn’t even want to know how I looked right now. Not if how I felt was any indication.

“Like I’ve just been hit by a truck.”

His expression fell and he pinched his eyes shut. “It’s not that far from the truth.”

“Hey.” I squeezed his hand to the best of my ability. “I’m okay. At least I think I am.”

He took a shuttering breath. “You are. You have a concussion, along with some broken ribs. Your lung collapsed, which is why there’s a tube on your side. The doctors will most likely be able to remove it in the next day or two.” His words came out even with a subtle tremble.

“You also no longer have a spleen. According to the doctor, it doesn’t do much anyway, but you will be more susceptible to getting sick. Your shoulder was also dislocated, but they popped it back in during surgery.”

“That explains the sling,” I attempted to joke.

“I’ll go tell the nurse you’re awake so she can come talk to you. Or send the doctor in.” He started to get up, but I stopped him.

“Not yet. I just want you to sit with me for a minute.”

He lowered himself back into the chair, a small smile tugging on his lips. “Whatever you need.” He brought my hand up to his mouth and touched a warm kiss to my skin.

“I was on my way to see you,” I confessed after a moment of heavy silence, broken only by the steady beeping.

“What’s that?”

“The night I was hit. I…” I scrunched my brows. “What day is it?”

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