Chapter 45 A FURIOUS KANE
CHAPTER FORTY FIVE
SAMANTHA’S POV
Blood has a smell you never forget.
Metallic, thick, stubborn. It clings to your lungs even when you try to breathe past it.
By the time we were done, my hands were shaking so badly I had to clench them together. The bandages were tight around his torso, layered over layered, hiding wounds that should never have existed on a man like him. Tubes ran from his arm to the stand beside the bed, dark red flowing steadily into him like life being returned inch by inch.
My master lay still.
I stood beside the bed, my eyes fixed on his chest, counting every rise and fall like it was my responsibility to keep him breathing.
“Is he free from complications?” My voice came out thin, and I hated that it betrayed me.
The doctor adjusted his gloves, calm in the way people are when they have seen worse.
“Yes. He is stable. He lost a lot of blood, but the transfusion is working. He should regain consciousness in a few hours.”
Relief rushed through me so fast my knees almost buckled.
“I’ll be in the other room,” the doctor added.
“Press this button if anything goes wrong.”
He placed the call button in my hand and left quietly, the door clicking shut behind him.
Silence settled in the room, thick and uncomfortable.
I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until Abel exhaled loudly beside me. He was standing near the foot of the bed, arms crossed, jaw tight. He stared at Kane with an expression I had never seen on his face before.
Fear. Raw and unguarded.
He noticed me looking at him and quickly masked it, straightening his shoulders like he was putting armor back on.
He sat down on the chair closest to the wall, rubbing his palms together once. “You should try to get some sleep,” he said, his voice calm but strained. “He would be furious when he wakes up and sees you here.”
“No,” I said immediately. “I’ll stay.”
Abel studied my face for a moment, then nodded. “Alright.”
He moved farther away, choosing the chair near the door, positioning himself like a guard. Within minutes, exhaustion dragged him under. His head tilted back, eyes closed, breathing deep and heavy.
I stayed.
I didn’t feel tired. I didn’t feel anything except the strange pull in my chest that refused to let me look away from Kane.
This was the man who broke me.
The man who made me hate him.
The man who punished me in ways that blurred pain and pleasure until I could no longer tell where one ended and the other began.
And yet, somehow, the same man made me believe he was doing me a favor every time he hurt me.
He lay on his back, bare chest rising slowly beneath the bandages. Even now, even like this, he looked powerful. Built. Dangerous. His face was calm in sleep, lashes resting against his cheeks, lips slightly parted.
Handsome. Devilish.
I hated myself for noticing.
Why was he in this situation?
Kane was not supposed to bleed. He was not supposed to be vulnerable. He was great, feared, untouchable. Yet here he was, injured far too often, lying in a hospital bed like someone who needed protection.
The thought unsettled me.
There were too many unanswered questions pressing against my skull. The widow collector. The origin of the sanctuary. The mutated ones and how to free them. What really happened to Sally. How Savy was tied to Kane and her death.
Everything felt tangled.
This was when I needed Kate the most. She would have known what to say. She would have made sense of it all.
Instead, I stayed quiet and kept watch.
Time blurred. Minutes slipped into hours without my noticing. At some point, my body betrayed me. Exhaustion crept in gently, wrapping around my limbs like a lullaby I hadn’t asked for.
I must have shifted closer to the bed. I didn’t remember deciding to lie down, only the sudden softness beneath me and the warmth radiating from his body.
I fell asleep just in front of him.
The first thing I felt was movement.
I stiffened instantly, sleep dissolving as my eyes flew open. Kane groaned low in his throat, the sound rough, pained, like he was being dragged back into consciousness against his will.
He shifted, muscles tensing beneath the bandages.
Pain must have hit him all at once.
He tried to sit up.
“No no no no,” I said quickly, pushing myself upright. “Stay still. You’ll hurt yourself.”
My hands hovered near his shoulders, unsure if I was allowed to touch him.
Then everything happened too fast.
His eyes snapped open.
Sharp. Disoriented. Furious.
Before I could react, his hand shot out and wrapped around my neck.
My breath vanished instantly.
“Ahh… ahh…” I tried to speak, but the sound died in my throat. His fingers tightened, cutting off air, crushing my words before they could even be voiced out
“What are you doing here?” he demanded, his voice weak but his grip terrifyingly strong.
My vision blurred. Panic exploded in my chest as I clawed at his wrist, my fingers useless against his strength. My lungs burned, screaming for oxygen that wouldn’t come.
The room spun.
I could feel life slipping, like sleep dragging me under against my will.
Abel slept on, unmoving and unaware.
And Kane’s hand stayed locked around my throat.