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“You already know my name. What is yours?”
He bares his teeth. I think it’s supposed to be a smile. “Arcangelo.”
Arcangelo heads back to his soldiers.
I get into the SUV with George and Wesley, and then we speed off the tarmac. I hold Alize in my arms, whispering to her as we drive to the hospital. The farther we get from the plane, the better I feel about the decision I just made.
I can feel Alize’s pulse, but it's faint.
I tell her of everything we'll do in the future.
Of the vacations we'll take as a family.
That I want to marry her in a ceremony that's everything she's dreamed of.
How I plan to buy the most obnoxious yacht ever, name it after her and fuck her on it as often as I can.
Alize's eyes flutter open every now and then, but she's mostly unconscious.
"I need you to survive, my love."
FORTY
ALIZE
I'm so confused.
The world is a blurry slant. Everything feels sharp and scratchy.
Still, I force my eyes open. Blinding white light blares down from above, burning my eyes. I suck down a breath, but it doesn't help the bubble of panic in my throat.
I blink once, twice.
My vision clears up little by little.
Despite the pain and discomfort seizing my body, I'm in a bed. It's like my senses are coming online one after the other, because the moment I realize that I'm lying in a bed, the smell of disinfectant assaults my nostrils.
Plain grey walls. Beige, slatted blinds diffusing the light coming through the windows. The steady beeping of machines. The ache with every breath I take.
I'm in a hospital.
That's right. I was attacked.
I sweep my eyes over the room to find Alexander sitting beside me. He's asleep, and I almost feel guilty waking him—I don't think he's had any sleep since I was kidnapped.
It's a painful few seconds as I lift my hand to place it over his.
The moment I touch him, he startles awake.
His eyes bounce around the room first, the door, the windows. Then they land on me. Instantly, the alarm in his expression melts into something softer. A look I've been longing to see.
The one I kept imagining when I thought I was going to die.
"You're awake," he croaks, a sleepy smile on his face. He looks down at his watch. "You've been out for nearly a day."
My jaw drops. "What?"
Hell, is that my voice? I sound like I've been chewing glass. I clear my throat, but it only ends up feeling a little more painful and scratchy.
