Page 290 of Ruins
Not the men I still have to hunt down.
Only her.
Inside the room, she lies beneath a blanket, her face soft, her breathing even in sleep.
The blood has been washed away, her bruises cleaned and tended to. For a moment, I just stand there, absorbing the sight of her like she’s my lifeline.
She’s safe.
I still have her.
She’s here, but it’s not enough.
I step closer, lowering myself onto the bed beside her, moving carefully. I don’t care about the machines, the wires, the IV drip at her side.
I can’t be away from her.
Not after seeing her like that. Not after knowing what could have happened. I brush a hand over her cheek, my fingers ghosting over her skin, needing to touch her to remind myself she’s real.
That she’shere.
That I didn’t lose her.
Her breathing is steady, her presence soothing—a faint, fragile rhythm against my chest as I pull her closer.
I grit my teeth. Rage still simmers beneath the surface.
No one will ever come near her again.Not while I breathe.
Chapter 59
Vasilisa
Myeyesflutteropento the soft morning light filtering through tall windows, casting a warm glow across the room. The sheets beneath me are smooth, cool, not the sterile cotton of a hospital bed. I blink, my mind still foggy, trying to make sense of where I am. There’s a faint scent of lilies in the air, familiar, comforting. I push myself up slowly, wincing as I feel the tenderness along my neck, the memory of hands around my throat surfacing before I push it down.
Scanning the room, this definitelyisn’tthe hospital. It’s… it’s beautiful, warm, and somehow it feels likehim.
Santo.
The mattress shifts slightly, pulling me from my haze, and my breath catches. There he is, sitting on the edge of the bed, watching me with that fierce, protective intensity that never wavers, never weakens. His hand reaches out to brush a stray hair from my face, his touch so gentle it nearly undoes me.
“You’re awake,” he murmurs. His voice is soft, but there’s relief there. Maybe even something like guilt, shadowing his expression.
My gaze drifts around the room again, struggling to place where I am. “Where?”
“Our home,” he says, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Our home.
I swallow, my throat tight, my voice rasping as I manage to ask “Our home?”
His gaze never leaves my face. “Ourotherhome. Our penthouse,” he clarifies. “It was supposed to be a surprise for you, to have you close to me when I worked.”
His voice is steady, but there’s a flicker of regret in his eyes. “I had it all prepared. I wanted to lead you here with your eyes closed, just to see the surprise on your face when you opened them.”
His voice trails off and, his jaw tightens. I reach out, tracing my fingertips along the stubble on his cheek.
“You didn’t have to do this, Santo.”
