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"Got away." Bash's tone hardened with frustration and barely concealed rage. "Escorted by his men."
A cold dread settled in my gut. "Should I...?" My voice faltered, the thought of leaving Sebastian with a nanny making my heart squeeze painfully.
"No." Bash answered quickly, definite. "You stay with Sebastian. He's our priority."
"Right," I murmured, trying to swallow down the bitter taste of worry. Vito was still out there, a looming threat that we couldn't ignore. But right now, our little beacon of hope was more important. "I heard about the bomb at the venue."
"Yeah, it was a mess." Bash's voice dropped an octave, the image of the wreckage clearly playing in his mind. "But we got everyone out, thanks to Skylar, thanks to you. Thanks to Zane. I'm just grateful you and Sebastian weren't caught up in that."
I looked down at the sleeping child in my lap, his innocent features unmarred by the brutal world around him. "We're safe, Bash," I reassured him; a promise I intended to keep.
Bash let out a sigh that sounded like relief. "That's good to hear, Hassan."
It was maddening–being stuck here while Zane clung to life somewhere else. But I knew I had a duty to fulfill; keeping Sebastian safe was just as important.
"Hey, Has?" Bash spoke again after a pause, his voice softer. "Thanks. For getting Sebastian out of there."
I let out a low chuckle, though it held little humor. "No need for thanks, Bash. You know I'd do anything for the little guy."
"I know you would," he replied quietly, a hint of sadness seeping into his tone. "And I...I'm sorry about Zane. He was just trying to protect us all.”
“Yeah…” I swallowed around the lump in my throat. “He always does, doesn’t he? The hero doctor of ours. When he wakes up, tell him I'm sorry I'm not there.”
"I will," Bash's voice echoed with a shared sorrow. "Hassan...take care of our boy, okay? And take care of yourself."
I pulled the phone away from my ear, looking at the screen as Bash broke the connection. His words echoed in my mind. Take care of our boy. Take care of yourself.
It was his way of saying he was sorry things had turned out this way. Bash wasn't one for apologies, but I knew him well enough to read between the lines.
I paused, staring at the empty screen before putting it away. My gaze fell on Sebastian once more, sleeping soundly against me. His chest rose and fell with steady breaths, his face serene in slumber.
My hand instinctively moved to stroke his back, tracing small circles on his tiny body. I watched him sleep for a while, my thoughts wandering to Zane.
Where was he now, I wondered. Was he conscious through it all, or was he lost in a world of darkness? I knew Zane; he was strong. But the thought of him lying on a cold operating table with life slipping away from him sent chills down my spine.
I took a deep breath, letting the image fade away. I couldn’t afford to lose myself in fear. If not for me, then for this innocent life in my hands and those who were fighting out there to keep everything together.
Gently, I moved Sebastian onto the couch, tucking a blanket around him. His peaceful sleep was a stark contrast to the storm brewing within me. My thoughts kept returning to Zane and Bash, and how much we stood to lose if things went south.
We didn't just need him–we obviously did need him, but it wasn't just that.
We loved him. I loved him. Zane was more than our doctor, more than our friend. He was a part of us–a part of me. And the thought of losing him...
I shook my head forcefully, ridding myself of the dark thoughts. They weren't helping anyone, least of all Zane. Instead, I got up from the couch and walked over to the kitchen. My body craved the calming familiarity of cooking–the rhythmic patterns of chopping, stirring and sizzle had always been one of my forms of meditation.
As I went through the motions, creating a simple pasta sauce from scratch, my eyes kept drifting towards where Sebastian lay sleeping on the couch. I had put on one of his favorite cartoons on low volume, hoping it would keep him calm if he woke up before I finished cooking.
Following the simmering rhythm of my thoughts, I added crushed tomatoes into the pan, their rich fragrance filling the room, soothing my senses. Steam rose up from the pot.
The sizzling sound of onions and garlic sautéing snapped me back to reality. With a furrowed brow, I stirred the sauce, letting it reduce. Cooking was an art that required patience, just like healing required time. I found myself praying silently for Zane's recovery as I stirred, the steady rotation of the wooden spoon in sync with my racing heartbeat.
Bash was right, our priority was keeping Sebastian safe. His small life depended on us and we needed to do whatever it took to keep him that way. From where I stood, I could see his chest rhythmically rising and falling with each breath. His small fists were clenched around his favorite toy car, a sign that even in sleep he held onto some sense of security. It was hard not to feel a sense of fierce protectiveness over the tiny life entrusted into our care.
I could hear the sounds of the city just outside our window–the relentless pulse of Miami life. But in here, in this small apartment, it felt like a different world. A safe haven. And I would do whatever it took to keep it that way.
I wasn’t sure what that meant yet…but it was becoming clear that we couldn’t keep going the way we had been.
Something had to change.
