Page 79 of Lords of Ruin: Cherished

Damien looks at Nina. “Then call the damn doctor.”

Nina hesitates for half a second before nodding and stepping out into the hallway.

The moment she’s gone, Vincent presses my hand to his lips, his breath warm against my skin. “We’re right here, baby,” he murmurs. “You’re not alone.”

The doctor arrives minutes later, a tired-looking man with wire-rimmed glasses and an air of quiet authority. He checks my vitals, murmurs something to Nina, then turns to the guys.

“She’s stable enough. We can remove the tube,” he says. “But it’s going to be uncomfortable. She’ll need to follow my instructions, and you need to stay calm.”

Vincent’s grip on my hand tightens. “Just do it.”

The doctor nods and steps closer, his gloved hands moving with practiced efficiency. “Willow, I need you to take a deep breath when I tell you, then cough as I pull the tube out, okay?”

I manage a weak nod, my throat already burning in anticipation.

“On three. One… two…three.”

I inhale as deep as I can, then gag as he starts pulling. The sensation is awful—like something slithering up my throat, scraping against the raw edges. I choke, coughing weakly as the tube slides free. My body convulses, and for a second, I can’t breathe at all.

Then air rushes in, and I gasp, my lungs finally my own again.

Vincent’s hands are on my face, smoothing my damp hair back. “Breathe, baby, just breathe.”

I do, sucking in unsteady gulps of air. My throat is raw, my chest aching, but I can breathe on my own. The machine still pumps my heart for me.

Damien grabs a cup of ice chips from the bedside table, scooping a few onto a spoon and bringing it to my lips. “This’ll help.”

I let him feed me the ice, the cold melting across my tongue, soothing some of the rawness. When I finally speak, my voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper.

“What… happened?”

The three of them exchange a look, a silent debate passing between them.

Then Cast exhales and runs a hand through his curls. “You were in a car accident, Willow.”

A chill rolls through me. I try to sit up, but Vincent presses a hand to my shoulder, keeping me still.

“Fuck, Damien your birthday. I had-”I shake my head. “How bad was the accident?”

Vincent’s fingers stroke my cheek, his touch painfully tender. “Your car was completely totaled and your heart… it took too much damage.” His voice catches. “You need a new one.”

“No,” I whisper. My whole body starts to shake. “No, I—I can’t do this again.”

Tears blur my vision, my breath turning ragged.Three.This would be mythirdheart. My body keeps rejecting them, keeps breaking, keeps trying todie.It doesn’twantme to live.

My hands curl into the blanket, my nails digging into the thin fabric. “I can’t—” My voice cracks, and the sob breaks free. “I can’t keep doing this. My body doesn’t even want me here.”

“Hey. Hey.” Vincent cups my face, his forehead pressing against mine. “Stop that. Don’t say that.”

Damien’s hand slides over my knee, grounding me. “We’renotlosing you.”

Cast squeezes my fingers, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “We’ll find you a heart. You’re not going anywhere.”

My chest heaves, my breath still uneven. I want to believe them, but I’msotired.

Vincent tilts my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze. “If you won’t fight for yourself, if you won’t fight for us—” His voice drops, his thumbs brushing away my tears. “Then fight for the baby.”

I freeze. Thewhat?

---