Page 137 of Silent Vendetta (Vendetta Duet)

“Perhaps we should try this another day,” a female voice, a nurse, I presumed, said.

But the walker made another clank against the ground, and another groan emerged.

“You shouldn’t overdo it,” she said.

Another clank.

Another grunt.

“I’ll get the chair ready,” another nurse chirped.

A thin blonde with her hair in a bun waltzed into my room with a wheelchair, which she positioned next to my bed.

And then, a pair of strong, masculine hands gripping a walker came into view, their knuckles white with the strain.

The hands I’d thought I’d never get to hold again.

With a ragged breath and determined push, he revealed himself.

“Hunter!” My voice broke, and the floodgates of relief and love opened, blurring my vision with tears. It was as if I’d been holding my breath for an eternity, and only now could I finally breathe again.

The corners of his eyes crinkled, a small smile gracing his lips—a smile that spoke of battles fought and a love that survived against all odds. But then, with each painstaking step he took toward me, his face contorted with effort and pain.

My heartstrings tugged at the sight of him fighting against his injuries, pushing through every ounce of pain just to be closer to me.

Hunter grunted and groaned his way to the chair, where two nurses helped him sit down.

It was unsettling to see such a powerful man stripped down to a hospital gown and a walker, but somehow, he made it look sexy as hell—his muscles not getting the memo that he had been gravely injured.

The nurses wheeled Hunter closer to me and looked between us before one cleared her throat.

“We’ll give you some privacy,” she said. “Push the red button if you need anything.”

And then she shut the door.

Hunter’s gaze swept over me, lingering on every cut and bruise, a storm of relief and concern dancing in his eyes.

“Hey, Little Leopard.” His hoarse voice was full of warmth.

“I was so scared you…” My throat closed, cutting off my words, so I settled for squeezing his hand. Then I linked my fingers through his.

The warmth of his skin and the pink hue dotting his cheeks were reassuring, stark contrasts to the ghastly white and cold version of him I’d seen last.

Hunter leaned his frame down and pressed his lips to my hand.

“You saved my life,” I said through a sniffle. “Again.”

“You saved mine. And protected…other thingsin the process.” His voice was full of admiration and gratitude.

Relief settled into my bones that, for now, it seemed Hunter might not be in legal danger.

“My brother told me what you did.” Hunter studied my eyes and drew his knuckles up to my jaw.

I gave a small gasp at the touch I’d feared I may never experience again.

“None of it would’ve been possible without Grayson,” I said.

Hunter’s gaze swept to the hospital room door, then back to me.

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