Page 6 of Final Vendetta

Gideon

Hours passed, each one more painful than the last. The waiting room grew quieter as night bled into early morning, leaving just the faint hum of fluorescent lights and the low murmur of hushed voices from the nurses’ station. I’d lost track of how many times I’d counted the tiles on the ceiling, anything to distract myself from the overwhelming guilt crushing my chest.

Melanie rested her head on my shoulder, her arm looped through mine. I appreciated her presence right now, even if my nerves were frayed beyond repair. I needed this connection to someone close to Imogene.

“You’ll get answers soon,” she assured me in a soothing voice, sensing my unease.

Not like it was difficult. I’d never been so tense. So ready to snap.

“Her parents’ plane landed a while ago so they should be here any minute.”

As if on cue, the emergency room doors slid open. Julia and Lachlan rushed into the waiting room, looking strained and worried, but determined. We all shot to our feet, and I felt a jolt in my chest when Julia’s gaze fell on Henry, her brow furrowing in confusion.

After all, she knew Henry from when I was Samuel Tate. Not as Gideon Saint.

She blinked several times, probably trying to make sense of this tangled web I had spun around myself.

When she looked back at me, she swept her analytical gaze over my features, as if mentally rearranging my face, readjusting the shape of my jaw and straightening my nose. Then she pushed out a shuttering sigh.

Without a second’s hesitation, she moved across the room and wrapped her arms around me in a fierce, motherly embrace.

“Imogene was right,” she whispered. “She mentioned she thought it might be you.”

I nodded, guilt crashing over me like a wave. “I’m sorry, Ms. Hale,” I murmured, my voice rough. I didn’t embellish further. I couldn’t. There was so much for me to be sorry for.

For thinking I could use Imogene as bait.

For lying to her.

For being the reason she was currently in the hospital, fighting for her life.

If she was still alive at all.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” She pulled back, searching my expression. “You’re alive. She always questioned if you were. Said if you were really dead, she’d feel it.” Julia laughed under her breath. “I convinced her she needed to move on for her own good. That she’d drive herself crazy if she kept living in the past. I’m happy I was wrong. So happy,” she murmured as she wrapped me in another tight hug before stepping back and composing herself. “I’ll get some answers.”

“Thank you,” I said around a rush of relief.

“Of course.” She held my gaze for a beat, then moved toward Lachlan, who studied me with a mixture of confusion and skepticism. But it only lasted a second before Julia pulled him toward the nurses’ station.

I kept my focus glued on them, trying to eavesdrop on their conversation to find out anything I possibly could about Imogene’s condition. But instead of telling them anything, the nurse stated that the doctor overseeing Imogene’s treatment had asked to speak with them, then led them through the secured door. But before they disappeared, Julia passed me a reassuring smile.

It did nothing to help, though.

I couldn’t help but fear the worst. That the doctor had asked to speak with them privately so he could deliver the bad news away from prying eyes and ears.

I tried to take a deep breath to calm myself. Remind myself to think positive. But it was impossible. The waiting room felt smaller now.

Too small.

Every moment spent here only reminded me of how powerless I was. I couldn’t sit here any longer, suffocating under the weight of it all.

“I need some air,” I barked out at Melanie and Henry, though I doubted fresh air would help.

Then I spun on my heels and headed toward the sliding doors. But before I stepped outside, I noticed a sign for the chapel. I’d never been one to pray, especially these past few years.

Right now, I was willing to try anything.

I followed the quiet hallway until I reached a pair of large wooden doors that seemed out of place in such a sterile and brightly lit environment. Pushing one open, I entered the darkened space, its dim light a stark contrast to the harsh fluorescent outside. A stained-glass feature made up the far wall behind the altar, a long table in the back of the room covered with candles in red votives, some flickering with life while others remained unlit.

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