Page 51 of Damsel in Defense
“Yes,” I say, no hesitation.“I’m her fiancé.”
She taps a few keys, then looks up.“She’s stable.Being monitored.She’s in room 317.Third floor.Take the elevators down the hall.”
I’m already moving.
Each step toward that room feels like trudging through wet cement.My heart’s caught somewhere between my throat and my knees.Falcon’s sitting outside the room when I get there.His left arm is bandaged, and there’s dried blood on the collar of his jacket, but he’s upright, alert.One look at me and he stands.
“She’s okay,” he says quickly, hands raised.“Couple scrapes, some bruised ribs, concussion protocol.But she was awake last I checked.They’re monitoring her for a few hours to make sure nothing’s internal.”
I exhale for the first time in what feels like hours.My knees buckle slightly, and I press a hand to the wall.
“Jesus,” I mutter, dragging my hand down my face.“Thank you for staying with her.”
“I should’ve done more,” he says, jaw tight.“It’s not just the brakes.Someone tampered with the car’s system.We’re reviewing the parking garage’s security footage as we speak.I should warn you, we’ve got a lead.”
My head snaps up.“What lead?”
Falcon glances both ways down the hallway, then leans in, voice low.“You remember how Victoria said it felt like the paparazzi knew her every move?That they were catching her in vulnerable moments?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, it turns out one of her assistants had been logging her schedule into a shared calendar.And that calendar was being accessed by an unrecognized user.We traced the IP.The address is registered to a former PR contractor—someone who worked with your ex.”
I freeze.
My stomach twists.
“Are you saying—”
“I’m saying this has all the marks of a coordinated leak.Your ex wanted control.When she didn’t get it, she lashed out.First through the media.Then the fire.Now this.”
“Jesus Christ.”My fists clench, white-knuckled.“Has anyone told the cops?”
“My team is pulling footage now and all the information we’ve been able to uncover.We’ll have everything in place by morning.But you need to focus on Victoria.She needs you right now.”
That slices through the haze like a knife.Without another word, I push the door open.
Victoria’s lying in the hospital bed, pale and bruised, a thin scratch trailing along her cheek.But her eyes—those beautiful, expressive eyes—flick to mine the second I enter the room.Relief pours through her features.
“Mase,” she breathes.
I’m at her side in seconds, crouching down to eye level.I take her hand in both of mine and press it to my lips.“Hey, sweet girl.I’m here.”
Tears gather at the corners of her eyes.“I’m sorry.I didn’t—I didn’t know.I just wanted that notebook.”
“No.”I shake my head, voice thick.“You don’t say sorry for this.You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Falcon said the text was fake.I thought it was real.I didn’t even think—”
“I know.That’s on them.Not you.”
She sniffles, and I brush the hair from her forehead, careful not to touch any of the bandaged spots.
“You scared the shit out of me, Vic.”
“I scared myself.”Her voice breaks.“When the brakes gave out, all I could think was that I wouldn’t see you again.That I’d die before I got to tell you how much I—” She cuts herself off, lips trembling.
I kiss her knuckles.“Hey.You’re here.You’re okay.”
