Chapter 16 The Monster
Elena went to work.
Not because she wanted Derek and his professional politeness shadowing her every move, but because staying in that apartment with Pierce was suffocating.
The hospital was the one place where she could still pretend she had control over something, even if it was just checking vitals and updating charts.
Except Derek stood outside every room she entered, and patients noticed. It was hard to miss a six-foot wall of muscle in a dark suit hovering in the hallway.
"Is that your boyfriend?" Mrs. Denison asked, eyebrows raised as Elena checked her blood pressure.
"No." Her voice was sharper than she wanted. "Absolutely not."
"Bodyguard then?" She asked curious. "You famous or something?"
"Something like that." Elena forced a smile.
By lunch, she was exhausted. Not from the work, but from the constant awareness of being watched. She escaped to the break room, hoping for five minutes of peace.
Derek stood outside the door. Elena wanted to scream.
She got home just after seven, her whole body aching with a different kind of exhaustion than usual. Derek had driven her, staying three cars behind any vehicle that got too close, taking random turns that added twenty minutes to the trip.
"Standard protocol," he'd said when she asked. "Making sure we're not being followed."
Her life was insane.
Pierce was on the couch when she walked in, phone pressed to his ear, laptop open on the coffee table. He looked up when she entered, his eyes tracking her movement across the room.
Elena ignored him. Went straight to her bedroom and closed the door.
She lasted approximately ten minutes before the silence drove her back out.
Pierce was still on the phone, but his tone had changed.
"I don't care what he wants," Pierce said, his voice cutting through the apartment. "Tell Rodrigo he can shove his peace offering where the sun doesn't shine."
Elena froze halfway to the kitchen.
"No. Absolutely not." Pierce stood, pacing toward the window. "He doesn't get to threaten my people and then pretend we can negotiate."
There was a pause. Elena could hear someone talking on the other end, their voice too muffled to make out words.
"I said no," Pierce continued, his free hand clenched into a fist. "Because I'm not my father, that's why."
The bitterness in those last words made something twist in Elena's chest. She looked away quickly, focusing on making tea like her life depended on it.
"Get the Moretti family out," Pierce said after a moment, his voice quieter now. Tired. "All of them. I don't care what it costs, just get them somewhere safe before Rodrigo decides to make an example."
Elena's hands stilled on the kettle.
"They have kids, Marco. Two kids under ten." Pierce ran a hand through his hair, the movement sharp with frustration. "So yeah, I care what it costs. Just do it."
He ended the call and stood there, staring out the window at nothing.
Elena poured hot water over her tea bag, the silence between them thick and uncomfortable.
"You don't have to pretend I'm not here," Pierce said without turning around.
"I'm not pretending. I'm ignoring you." Elena grabbed her mug and headed back toward her bedroom.
"Elena."
Something in his voice made her stop. Pierce was watching her, and he looked exhausted.
"I know you hate this," he said quietly. "Hate me. I get it."
"Do you?"
"Yeah. I do." He moved slowly to the couch, lowering himself carefully like every muscle hurt. "But I'm not sorry for keeping you alive."
Elena didn't telling, she just turned and walked away.
Hours passed. Elena tried to read, tried to sleep, tried to do anything but think about the man in her living room.
None of it worked.
Around midnight, she gave up and came out from her bedroom, planning to make more tea and maybe watch something mindless on TV.
Pierce was still awake. Still working.
He'd moved to her kitchen table, papers spread everywhere, laptop open, phone within easy reach. The light from the screen cast shadows across his face, making him look older.
"Don't you ever sleep?" Elena asked before she could stop herself.
Pierce looked up, surprise flickering across his features. Like he hadn't expected her to speak to him.
"Not much these days." His voice was rough.
"That's not healthy."
"Neither is getting killed by my brother," his voice dripped with sarcasm. "But here we are."
Elena moved to the kitchen, filling the kettle and setting it on the stove. She could feel Pierce watching her.
"Want some?" she asked, gesturing to the tea.
He paused for a second, then. "Sure."
They didn't speak while she made two cups. The silence felt different now though. Elena set one mug in front of Pierce and went to the opposite side of the table with her own.
"Thank you," he said quietly.
She didn't respond. Just sipped her tea and pretended she wasn't studying him over the rim of her mug.
He looked terrible. Eyes bloodshot, shadows dark as bruises underneath.
"When's the last time you changed your bandage?" she asked.
Pierce blinked. "What?"
"Your wound." She gestured to his side. "When did you last change the dressing?"
"I don't know."
"That's not good." Elena stood before she could think better of it. "Come on."
"Elena..."
"Don't argue." Her voice was firm. "You're going to get an infection, and then you'll definitely be useless against your brother."
Something that might have been amusement crossed his face. "Worried about me?"
"Worried about you dying on my floor again." She corrected. "The carpet still hasn't recovered from last time."
She went to get her medical kit, ignoring the way her heart was racing.
When she came back, Pierce had moved to the couch. He'd already unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the bandage across his ribs.
Elena knelt beside him, carefully peeling away the dressing.
The wound looked good, actually. Healing cleanly, no signs of infection. Her stitches were holding.
"It looks okay," she said, cleaning the area.
"You sound disappointed."
"I'm not disappointed." Her voice came out sharper than she wanted. "I'm surprised you haven't managed to tear it open yet with all your pacing and phone calls."
"I'm tougher than I look."
Elena glanced up at him, their faces suddenly close in the dim light. "You look pretty tough already."
Then she looked away first, focusing on applying a fresh bandage with more concentration than necessary.
"There," she said, her voice coming out rougher than intended. "Try not to ruin my work this time."
"I'll do my best."
Elena stood quickly, putting distance between them. "You should sleep. Even just a few hours."
"After I finish..."
"Pierce." She turned to face him. "You're running on fumes. You can't protect anyone if you collapse from exhaustion."
He studied her for a long moment. "Why do you care?"
"I don't," Elena said, but the lie felt hollow even to her. "I just don't want to deal with another medical emergency in my living room."
"Right." He said, not convinced. "Of course."
She headed back to her bedroom, her chest tight with emotions she didn't want to examine.
"Elena?"
She paused at her door, not turning around.
"Thank you." He said, lips curving slightly. "For the tea. And... everything else."
Elena didn't respond. Just closed her door quietly behind her.