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Trick returned to his seat and ignored Brute when he tried to talk to him again. Luckily, it didn’t last long. Rock eventually grabbed Brute’s arm and pulled him away, quietly uttering, “Not now.”
He returned to staring at the clock and watching the seconds pass by until he could see Stiletto’s beautiful light blue eyes.
Stiletto
As if she was being dragged out of a deep, dense, dark fog, Stiletto tried to make sense of everything her senses were throwing at her. Beeping. People talking, but from a distance. The smell of antiseptic. Cold. She was so very cold. Dark. She was in a dark room, or was she unable to see? Her head hurt, but why? She couldn’t remember.
Trying to put all the information in the appropriate boxes in her mind, she tried to figure out what it all meant. How did she get there? The last thing she remembered was the academy. She had rounded that building and saw the gun being pointed at…
“Come back to me, Stiletto,” a deep voice said low, almost at a whisper. “Come back to me. Fuck. I’m so sorry. And I’m so mad at you.” There was a sniffle. “I’m a selfish bastard. You don’t get to take my bullets for me.”
Trick.
She felt a soft brush against her hand that she was sure was Trick’s lips, as she realized he was holding her hand in his. She tried her very best to squeeze it and let him know she heard him, but she couldn’t get her fingers to move.
The last thing she heard before she was dragged back down into the fog was, “I love you, Stiletto. I need you.”
The second time she pulled herself from the fog, she was immediately bombarded with noise. Beeping from the machines and people talking, but she also heard voices that were vaguely familiar.Trick. One of them was her mate, but the other… it was familiar, yet she had trouble placing it.
“She hasn’t woken up yet,” Trick said softly. He didn’t sound as close as he had when he begged her to come back to him.
“She will, Brother. Blade said her vitals looked great, and so does her wound.”
“That was meant for me.” Trick’s voice was rough, like he was having trouble getting the words out past a lump in his throat.
The gunshot. A memory of jumping in front of Trick as he fought off a hunter came to the front of her mind. She stopped the bullet from reaching Trick. That explained the beeping of the machines. She was in a hospital.
“Trick, you have to let that go. If the tables were turned, you would have done the same for her.”
“I would have rathered that.”
“And I bet she’d be mad at you for that.” Whoever he was, he wasn’t wrong.
She wanted to see who Trick was talking to, but her eyelids felt so damn heavy. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get them to open. Before long, exhaustion dragged her back down into that fog.
Light snoring brought Stiletto awake. As she once again processed the assault of noise, sound, and physical pain, she tried to open her eyes. She succeeded, but it took a while for her to be able to get them to focus. Ceiling panels and lighting that wasn’t on filled her view. After a moment, she slowly turned her head to the left and saw Trick asleep in a hospital chair.
It hurt to smile. Her muscles protested the action from what she assumed was lack of movement, but she tried to all the same. Trick was sitting there with his bald head hanging down, snoring, while he held onto her left hand on the bed. For as long as she could manage, she watched him and soaked in the fact that he was there, and he was okay.
After a few minutes, the pounding in her head grew, and she let out a quiet moan, shutting her eyes.
“Stiletto?”
Opening her eyes again, she looked up at Trick, who was standing at her bedside, bent over her. Tears filled his beautiful brown eyes as a smile grew on his face.
“Baby,” he choked out and lifted her hand to kiss. “Fuck. I wasn’t sure I’d get to see your light blue eyes shining at me again.”
Stiletto tried to speak, but it felt like her throat was lined with sandpaper.
“Water. You need water.” He let go of her hand and jogged out of the room. She could hear him ordering people around, then he returned with a Styrofoam cup with a straw, and a nurse bustled in behind him. “Here ya go, Stiletto.”
He helped her take a sip of the water before setting the cup aside.
“Be mad if you want to,” she said slowly, “but I regret nothing.”
Staring up at him, she watched as a tear slowly ran down his face. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
