Page 53 of Lords of Ruin: Savage

Before I can fully process the absence of the tube, the doctor steps forward, clipboard in hand. “We’ll check your sensation,” he says, shifting to the foot of the bed. “Tell me if you can feel this.”

I brace myself as he presses a blunt instrument, maybe the end of a pen—against the sole of my foot.

Nothing.

My chest tightens. “Again,” I say, my voice rough.

The doctor obliges, pressing harder this time.

Still nothing.

Fuck.

I glance at Willow. Her lips part, her eyes widening as she realizes what this means. Panic flickers in the depths of her gaze, but she doesn’t say anything. Just grips my wrist harder.

Damien shifts, his arms still crossed, but I don’t miss the way his jaw clenches.

The doctor moves higher, pressing against my shin. “Feel that?”

I exhale sharply. “No.”

He continues, testing along my leg, moving closer to where I know I should be able to feel at least a little sensation. I hold my breath, waiting, dreading.

Then—finally, when he reaches just above my knee, I feel it.

A faint, dull pressure.

Relief slams into me like a freight train, but it’s short-lived. Because this? This still isn’t good.

The doctor straightens, his expression carefully neutral. “It looks like there’s some sensory impairment in your lower extremities. We’ll need to run further tests, but the fact that you have partial sensation is a positive sign.”

A positive sign.

I want to laugh. The words feel empty, useless. A bullet tears through me, and now I can’t even tell if someone’s touching my own damn leg.

Willow’s breathing is uneven. When I glance at her, she’s staring at my legs like she can will them back to normal with sheer force alone.

I reach for her hand. “Hey,” I murmur, squeezing as tightly as I can. “I’m still here.”

Her eyes snap up to mine, glossy with unshed tears. “But what if—” She swallows hard. “What if you never?—”

“I will,” I cut in, my voice firm despite the exhaustion overwhelming me. “This isn’t permanent.”

The doctor nods. “With the right physical therapy, there’s a strong chance you’ll regain full function. The nerves may be in shock, but they can recover.”

“ Good,” I smile, though it takes more effort than I’d like. “Wouldn’t want to deprive you of my charming presence.”

Willow doesn’t laugh this time. Instead, she leans in, pressing her forehead to mine, her fingers trembling in my grip.

Damien lingers near the window, arms crossed over his chest. His usual sharp gaze is unreadable, but his presence is grounding. He’s always been like that. A solid force, someone who doesn’t crumble even when the world around him does.

The door swings open again, and this time, it’s Cast.

The room shifts.

His presence fills the space, taking up more than just the physical. Cast is a force of nature—unshakable, unreadable, and right now,furious.

His eyes land on me first. His jaw tightens. His gaze flicks to the machines beeping at my bedside, to the IV in my arm, to the bandages wrapped around my torso. And then—he looks at Willow.

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