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“Yes, you did!” I stomp my foot in the ground.
“I said I could change my mind.” His expression remains motionless. “It turns out I did not.”
Did he just manipulate me? The bastard! He’s indeed Aaron’s brother.
Tristan’s dreaming if he thinks he can stop me, though. Not even his psycho brother could. I open my mouth to retort when Kane picks up his phone. He listens, brows knitting together. This must be the first show of emotion I’ve ever witnessed on his usually expressionless face.
When he hangs up, his voice’s modulated, but a hint of urgency cloaks his words. “Aaron is in a critical condition. He lost a lot of blood and there is a shortage of his type.”
The three men keep talking. They throw and receive orders and affirmations, but their words don’t reach me.
The fragment of hope crushes to tiny bloody pieces.
I don’t know how my surroundings quieted or how I ended up kneeling on the floor. All I have left is putting my hands together and closing my eyes.
God, please save him.
Chapter Twenty-One
Tristan
White saturates the surrounding walls, trapping me in the midst of endless beeping machines. The detergents’ smell clogs my nostrils.
I always hated hospitals.
Especially when Aaron’s body lies motionless in one of them. A huge tube comes out of his mouth like a colourless snake. His pale skin is more suited for death rather than life.
My jaw tightens. Not Aaron, too. I’ve lost enough already.
I sit next to Dylan on the private room’s sofa. “Should we take him to better doctors abroad?” My whisper is too loud in the silent room.
“He’s out of danger.” Dylan lowers the sleeve of his shirt. Despite the nurses’ orders for him to eat after donating blood to Aaron, water is the only thing he has consumed. “The tube is only to aid his lungs. He will come back.”
“He’s a tenacious bastard.” My shoulders straighten. “Speaking of which, there’s a girl living in his quarters.”
Dylan’s eyebrows shoot up. “Since when does he bring women to the estate?”
“And since when does he avoid killing for three weeks? Since when does he express his psychosis aloud?” I heave a long sigh. “If...” I cut off, pursing my lips. “When he survives this, things will change. I’m done giving him freedom when he obviously needs help.”
“You know I’m on your side but a help you force upon him isn’t help, it’s an order.” He glances between Aaron and me. “I’m not a fan of the bastard, but if you push him, he’ll rebound against you.”
With jerky hands, I loosen my tie. “Then what do you suggest? Huh? I sit back and watch him annihilate himself? I can’t lose him!”
“I’m only stating facts.” Dylan scratches his temple, eyes tired. “The mental institute will make you lose him for good, Tristan.”
I point in Aaron’s direction, his dry lips a frightening shade of blue. “I’m already losing him, Dylan, better break him than regret it when it’s too late.”
“You will regret it either way.”
I shake away the thick cloak of the disturbing memories assaulting my head. “Father asked me to take care of him. It was his final wish. Even if it’s the last thing I do, I’ll find a way to bring Aaron back.”
Dylan rubs his hand over his face and sinks back into the sofa. “I’m smelling a disaster. A terrible one.”
. . . . .
Three days later, Aaron finally opens his eyes. His cheekbones protruded, his black gaze dimmed, even more than their usual deadliness.
All it matters is that he’s alive.
