Chapter 174

Chapter 174
Hannah's POV

The hospital room was quiet now, the chaos of Richard's attack and Finn's violent response fading into an uneasy calm.

I studied Finn's face, noticing the pallor beneath his usual confident expression. His left arm hung awkwardly at his side, the sleeve of his expensive shirt darkened with blood.

"Your arm," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "What happened to it?"

Finn glanced down as if just remembering his injury. "Got shot," he replied casually, as though discussing the weather. "Nothing serious."

My heart dropped. "Shot? Finn, that's not nothing! Do you have any other injuries?"

He shrugged, wincing slightly at the movement. "Don't know. Can't feel much right now."

The detached way he spoke about his own pain sent a chill through me. It wasn't bravado—it was something far more disturbing. I remembered the fragments he'd shared about his childhood in underground fighting rings, how he'd been trained to ignore pain from a young age. What kind of person could endure a gunshot wound and still fight with such lethal precision?

"We need to get you checked out immediately," I insisted, reaching for the call button.

Before I could press it, Finn leaned forward suddenly. With uncanny precision for someone who shouldn't know exactly where I was sitting, he found my lips with his. The kiss was brief but intense, sending warmth cascading through my body despite my concern.

When he pulled back, his voice was low and dangerous. "Once you're better, we'll deal with your little stunt."

I swallowed hard, not sure if his words were a threat or a promise. Before I could respond, he straightened up, adjusting his posture to hide any sign of weakness.

I noticed the smudges on his face then—dirt and what looked like gunpowder residue. There were small cuts across his cheekbone, and his usually immaculate appearance was disheveled. Evidence of whatever battle he'd fought to reach me.

"Finn," I said quietly, "I need you to know that nothing happened between Richard and me. I was afraid you might think—"

"I told you I'd believe you," Finn interrupted, a ghost of a smile crossing his lips. "I meant it."

His words hit me with unexpected force. After all his suspicion and anger, his simple statement of trust felt monumental. A lump formed in my throat as I realized I would soon have to break that trust. I had promised William I would leave him—a betrayal waiting to happen.

The door burst open before I could dwell on my guilt. The hospital director strode in, flanked by several staff members. His face was a mask of professional concern, but I could see the nervous tension in his eyes.

"Mr. Sterling, Ms. Lancaster," he greeted us with forced cheerfulness. "I'm Dr. Walters, the hospital director. We've prepared our finest VIP suite for you both."

Finn's expression darkened. "About time. Get her settled immediately."

The director nodded vigorously. "Of course, Mr. Sterling. We've assembled our best team for Ms. Lancaster's care and recovery. The suite has been thoroughly secured per your security team's specifications."

I was soon wheeled to a luxurious hospital suite that looked more like a five-star hotel room than a medical facility. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a stunning view of the city, while plush furnishings and tasteful artwork created an atmosphere of comfort and elegance.

Finn dismissed the hospital staff with curt instructions, his authority unquestioned despite his obvious injury. When the last of them had scurried out, he locked the door behind them.

"I need to change into a hospital gown," I said, attempting to rise from the wheelchair they'd insisted on using.

Finn stopped me with a gentle hand on my shoulder. "Don't exert yourself."

"I can manage to change clothes," I protested, though truthfully my body ached from childbirth and the stress of Richard's attack.

"You'll change here," he stated firmly.

I looked around the spacious room. "I'd prefer the bathroom."

Finn's jaw tightened. "You're not going to strain yourself walking to the bathroom. I'll help you."

Before I could object, he moved to the dresser and pulled out a hospital gown with his left hand. With unexpected dexterity, he located a pair of scissors from a drawer. I watched, mesmerized, as he approached me with deliberate steps.

With remarkable precision, he began cutting away my ruined dress. The scissors sliced through the fabric effortlessly, his hand steady despite his injury. I held my breath as the cool metal occasionally brushed against my skin, never once leaving a mark.

When the dress fell away, Finn carefully helped me into the hospital gown. The task of fastening the ties at the back proved challenging with his injured arm. After a moment of frustration, he leaned forward and caught one of the strings between his teeth, using his mouth and left hand to secure the ties.

His breath was warm against my neck, and I found myself holding perfectly still, barely breathing. There was something strangely intimate about this moment—more so than our previous physical encounters. This wasn't about desire or control, but care.

When he finished, he straightened up. "You should rest now."

"And you should get that arm examined," I countered. "And a full body check. You could have internal injuries."

He smirked. "Trying to get rid of me already?"

"I'm trying to make sure you don't collapse from blood loss," I said, settling into the hospital bed. "Go. I need to rest anyway."

Finn's expression softened for a fraction of a second before his usual mask slipped back into place. "Don't try anything while I'm gone. The room is guarded."

After he left, I lay back against the pillows, my mind replaying the night's events. So many people had died protecting me, died because of me.

The weight of it all pressed down on me like a physical force, threatening to crush what little strength I had left.