Page 27 of Beautifully Damned
I take a small sip, leaning back against the pillows. The world feels a little less tilted now.
And then—
Grrrrrowl.
The sound is horrendous. I close my eyes in horror. Of all the things—now, my stomach?
Roman’s eyes slowly drop down to my midsection. His face… changes. Like he’s watching someone choke on their own blood. There’s visible alarm, maybe even horror. At what? Hunger?
“Are you…hungry?” he asks suddenly. He’s trying to sound casual. But something about the way his body’s pulled tight, like a wire about to snap, makes the question strange. Out of place. Gentle in a way that doesn’t fit him.
“No,” I lie. “Not really.”
Truth is, I’m starving. The adrenaline wore off and now there’s this deep, gnawing hunger clawing at my insides. He turns on his heel and leaves the room.
The moment the door clicks shut behind him, I drop my head back against the pillow and close my eyes. I don’t understand what’s happening anymore.
When the door creaks open, I lift my head, a little too fast. My vision blurs, my skull throbs, but when it clears, I nearly fall off the hospital bed.
“Emir?” I blink again, but he’s still here, wearing scrubs and a face mask, with a fake nurse’s ID badge clipped to the front,and a wheelchair in his hands. He’s in good disguise, but I’d recognize those eyes anywhere.
“I must have a concussion,” I mutter under my breath, watching as he quietly closes the door behind him.
“Ayla,” he breathes, wrapping me in a hug. I melt. My entire body sinks into him.
He’s here.
He’s real.
His hand touches the side of my head. “What the fuck did he do to you?” he snaps.
I shake my head. “I’m okay.”
“You’re not okay,” he hisses. “You’re in a fucking hospital with stitches in your head.” He kisses my temple.
“How did you even find me?” I ask, trying to process the entire fever dream.
“This hospital’s known. The Bratva bring their people here a lot. I’ve been checking in every day. I figured if you ever got hurt, you’d end up here.”
Anxiety crawls up my throat, because I know that the man who might kill him isn’t far behind.
“You need to go,” I whisper. “Seriously. I’m okay. Baba will fix this. Just give it time—”
“They’ve had time,” he cuts me off. “And I’ve had enough of this. You think I can sleep knowing you’re under that monster’s roof? I can’t, Ayla.”
He picks me up.
“No—Emir, put me down,” I whisper-shriek.
“Shh.” He sets me in the wheelchair. “We’re getting you out of here. Right now.”
“This is a bad idea,” I hiss as he wheels me toward the hallway. “Emir, I’m serious. This will make it worse. It’s not just me and you. It’s a mafia war.”
“I don’t care,” he growls. “You’re more important to me than their little game.”
“I’m begging you,” I whisper. “Please. If you care for me, don’t make this worse. I don’t want your blood on this. Just wait a little longer. Just a little. Please, Emir.”
He’s quiet. Then he swears under his breath. “I fucking hate this.”
