Page 47 of Eden and her Mercenary
"That's between you and unconscious me," Eden said, the ghost of a smile playing at her lips. "But it helped. It gave me something to follow back."
Stella shifted, pressing herself more firmly against Eden's side as if to say she wasn't going anywhere. Not this time.
A nurse appeared in the doorway, clipboard in hand. She opened her mouth, likely to object to the dog on the bed, then seemed to take in the scene before her—Eden's color improved, her vitals steady on the monitor, the peaceful display of woman and dog reunited.
"Ten minutes," the nurse said instead, with a small smile. "Then she needs to get back on the floor."
Surprised by the kindness, I murmured my thanks.
When the nurse left, Eden looked down at Stella, who gazed back with complete adoration. "Ten minutes isn't nearly enough," she murmured.
"It's a start," I said. "And when you get out of here, you'll have all the time in the world."
∞∞∞
Three days later, Eden was discharged with strict instructions for rest and oxygen therapy. The ride back to the cabin was quiet, both of us lost in thought as familiar landmarks passed by.
"It looks the same," Eden said as we pulled into the driveway.
"Wren had it cleaned," I explained. "Replaced the damaged porch railing, scrubbed away the..." I trailed off.
"Blood," Eden finished. "You can say it, Royal. I'm not going to break."
The front door opened before we could knock, and Stella bounded out, her entire body wiggling with joy. She approached Eden carefully, as if sensing her fragility, then pressed against her legs with a soft whine.
"Hey, beautiful," Eden whispered, sinking to her knees despite my protests about her stitches. "I missed you so much."
Stella licked her face frantically, tail wagging so hard her whole body shook.
"She's been waiting by the door every day since we got back from visiting you at the hospital," Wren explained, joining us on the porch. "Wouldn't eat much, barely slept. She knew you were coming back."
Eden buried her face in Stella's fur, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. The dog seemed to understand, settling down and resting her head on Eden's lap with infinite patience.
"Come on," I said gently after a few minutes. "Let's get you inside."
The cabin felt different somehow—smaller, more precious. Every room held memories of our brieftime here before violence had shattered our peace. But it was still home, still the sanctuary we'd chosen together.
"The kennel construction," Eden said, noticing the half-finished building through the back window.
"On hold until you're recovered," I replied. "We have time."
She nodded, settling onto the couch with Stella immediately claiming the space beside her. "I've been thinking about what you said. About the program continuing."
"Eden—"
"No, listen." She stroked Stella's head absently. "We can't stop all of it, but we can help the victims. Dogs like Stella who escape or are rescued. We could specialize in that—rehabilitation for animals who've been through trauma."
The idea had merit. "A specialized sanctuary."
"Exactly. Work with veterinarians like Mack, surgeons like Dr. Chen. Build a network of people who understand what these animals have been through."
I sat beside them, careful not to jostle Eden's injured shoulder. "It would be dangerous. If they're still running programs—"
"Then we'll be careful. Discreet. But we can't just pretend it's not happening."
She was right, of course. We'd seen too much, knew too much to simply retreat into peaceful obscurity. The knowledge carried responsibility.
"We'll need security," I said, already thinking through the logistics. "Better than what we had."
