Page 155 of Stricken

"Uncle—"

"He's gone," I interrupt him.

Vlad starts shaking his head, his breathing suddenly labored. "No... you don't understand… He'll kill you…"

I cup his face, forcing him to look at me. "Vlad, listen to me. The man, the one who knew about the order… He's dead."

Vlad searches my eyes as if seeking the truth behind my words. I hold his gaze, pouring every ounce of reassurance into that look. Slowly, the tension drains from his body, and he seemingly relaxes.

The beeping of the heart monitor fades into the background, my own heartbeat pounding louder in my ears. I swallow hard, feeling the weight of everything that has happened since the last time I saw him.

"Is that why you orchestrated that scene at the warehouse?" I ask.

Silence stretches taut, thickening the air around us. Vlad's gaze remains locked on mine, but there's no response. "I don't know what you mean," he mutters.

"Vlad," I push, my tone firm but gentle. "I found the shipment in my own warehouse. Rinaldo confessed they took the drugs to Tony the night before the transfer."

He frowns. "I… don't know what you're talking about."

"You can fool anyone but me."

"Stop." Vlad's grip on my hand tightens again. "Just—" He draws a shaky breath, struggling to piece together the fragments of reality that feel too chaotic to grasp. "I'm serious. I don't know anything."

"Everything is under control, Vlad." My voice drops an octave. "We have nothing to fear anymore. Not from anyone. You did what you thought was right to protect me, didn't you?"

He doesn't speak for a long time.

"Caro," I say. "I will take care of you from now on."

As his gaze softens, I feel something shift between us. An acknowledgment, perhaps. A shared understanding. This world we inhabit—filled with blood and betrayal—has given us a chance again. A chance to be together.

And I don't plan on wasting it.

CHAPTER51

VLAD

The wheelchair creaks as Nico pushes me out of the hospital. The bright sunlight assaults my eyes, making me wince. It's been nearly a month since I've seen the outside world, confined to the plain walls inside my room.

I'm told I was in a coma for three weeks. There were some nurses who gave up on me. Nico never did.

He's been there since the moment I opened my eyes and he doesn't plan on leaving. That much I gathered.

"Why didn't you get me a pair of sunglasses?" I mutter under my breath, looking for Ivan. "Let's get the hell out of here." I'm tired of this place. I hate it. I don't want to ever come back. Hospitals are the worst. I know deep down I sound like a spoilt man child. So what?

"Easy, Vlad," Nico murmurs, patting my shoulder. His voice is abnormally soothing for a man of his station. "One step at a time. It'd be a shame if you made it through a coma and got run over by some ambulance in the parking lot."

"Apparently you still have that shitty sense of humor."

"Oh, it never went away, Hot Shot."

I can't see him but I can hear that damn, cocky smile. I imagine it on his face, imagine the tiny spiderwebs in the corners of his eyes. Imagine raking my fingers through his unruly hair.

The contrast between my usual strength and this... weakness... is jarring. My broken leg throbs under the cast. It's a constant reminder of my recklessness. And perhaps my age.

I still can't remember what happened right before the accident. That night is just... blank. Only certain thing is that I was emotional. More than usual. Over something that has no real meaning anymore.

Nico's hand squeezes my shoulder gently as if he just read my mind.

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