Page 29 of Lords of Ruin: Cherished

Dr. Peters meets my eyes. “Everything you did before. Running, swimming, dancing—even better endurance.”

For the first time, hope flickers through my fear. “So I could be normal? For the first time?”

“That’s the goal,” Nurse Lindsey says warmly.

Cast exhales, but his voice remains firm. “What are the risks?”

“Infection, bleeding, anesthesia complications,” Dr. Peters lists. “Mechanical failure is rare, but rejection is unlikely with the synthetic tissue.”

“When will we know if it’s working?”

“Immediately. The heart starts functioning as soon as it’s connected. The tissue integration happens over six months.”

I hesitate before asking, “Scars?”

“A vertical line down your chest,” Nurse Lindsey answers. “It fades over time.”

Dr. Peters slides a tablet forward. “If you sign these, surgery is the day after tomorrow.”

I grip the stylus. My hands don’t shake. “Let’s do it.”

As Cast wheels me back to my room, I notice Damien standing outside, hands buried deep in his pockets. His brow is furrowed, eyes fixed on some distant point downthe hallway, lost in thought. The harsh fluorescent lights cast shadows across his face, accentuating the tension in his jaw.

When he spots me approaching, his expression transforms instantly. The contemplative look melts away, replaced by a warm smile that reaches his eyes. He straightens up, pulling his hands from his pockets as he steps forward.

"There you are," he says, his voice softening as he approaches. He leans down and places a gentle kiss on my lips, his hand finding mine and giving it a reassuring squeeze. The tenderness of the gesture contrasts with the worried look I'd caught moments before.

"How did it go?" he asks, his attention now fully on me, though I can still sense an undercurrent of whatever had been preoccupying him before I arrived.

“Perfect, my surgery is scheduled for the day after tomorrow six a.m. sharp!” I click my tongue, staring into his steely grey eyes.

Cast’s lips quirk at my enthusiasm, but it quickly is covered by his usual guarded expression, a flicker of hesitation before he masks it. “We’ll be ready.”

We.I don’t miss the way he says it, like this is just as much his battle as mine.

Before I can press him on whatever’s weighing him down, Damien’s voice cuts in from the side.

“Guess that means I’ve got less than forty-eight hours to convince you that you love me,” he teases, stepping into view with his usual lazy confidence. His intense eyes gleam with amusement, but I don’t miss the way they sweep over me, as if checking for any signs of distress.

I snort. “Ambitious. What’s the plan? Poetry? Serenades?”

“Both. Maybe even a grand gesture.” He smirks—damn it, hegrins—tilting his head in that way that always makes me suspicious. “But if that doesn’t work, I’ll settle for keeping you entertained.”

Cast lets out an exaggerated sigh, slipping his hand around my neck and tilting my head backwards. “She’s already entertained enough. Isn’t that right, Cariña?”

I smile into his grip, and he tightens lightly. “Sí, sir.”

Cast hums in approval and brushes my lips in a quick kiss.

Damien holds up his hands, grinning. “Hey, no need to be jealous,jefe.” Then he turns back to me, dropping the playful act just enough for his voice to soften. “Seriously though, don’t hate me, okay?”

The shift in his tone sends a chill down my spine. I narrow my eyes. “Why would I hate you?”

His smile lingers, but there’s unsteadiness behind it. “You’ll find out.”

Damien doesn’t give me a chance to press him for more. Instead, he grabs the wheelchair and starts pushing it toward my room like he’s on a mission.

My stomach tightens. I don’t trust that look on his face.

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