CHAPTER 316

CHAPTER 316
FIVE DAYS LATER

I woke to the steady rhythm of Alexander’s heartbeat under my cheek and the heavy warmth of his arm draped over my waist.

For once the house was quiet. No urgent phone calls. No low voices in the hallway. No distant sound of car doors or security radios. Just the two of us tangled together in the middle of the big bed, sheets twisted around our legs, morning light filtering soft through the half-drawn curtains.

I shifted carefully, trying not to wake him. His arm tightened automatically, possessive even in sleep.

“Don’t even think about it,” he murmured, voice still rough.

“I was only going to stretch.”

“Stretching leads to standing. Standing leads to wandering off. Wandering off leads to me having a heart attack.” He cracked one eye open and looked down at me, dark and already unimpressed. “Stay.”

“You’re so overbearing, you know that?” I propped myself up on one elbow just enough to give him my most unimpressed look.

“Rogers cleared me for movement days ago. I’m allowed to walk. I’m allowed to stretch, Alexander. I’m allowed to exist in a vertical position. I could walk to the kitchen right now, make us breakfast, and come back before you finished panicking.”

“Rogers doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

“He’s a licensed physician.”

“He’s a menace who apparently enjoys watching me suffer.” He pulled me closer, tucking my head back under his chin like the conversation was already settled.

“I’ve earned the right to be irrational for a little while longer. Possibly permanently.”

I huffed a quiet laugh against his skin.
“Fine. I’ll stay. But only because you’re comfortable, not because I’m doing as I'm told..”

“Duly noted. I’ll take the win regardless.”

“You’re impossible.”

“You married me anyway.”

“Yes,” I said softly, “I did, husband.”

He made a low, satisfied sound and pulled me closer still. His hand rested protectively over my stomach the way it always did.

His fingers traced slow, absent patterns along my spine. I listened to the steady beat of his heart and tried not to think about how rare these mornings had become.

Eventually my stomach growled loud enough to make him chuckle.

“Breakfast,” he decided, pressing a kiss to my forehead before carefully extracting himself from the bed.

“Stay put. I’ll bring it.”

“Or,” I said, already pushing myself up against the pillows, “I could come with you, and we could have breakfast in the kitchen like actual functioning adults who occasionally leave a single room.”

“No.”

“Alexander, it’s the kitchen. It’s downstairs. There are stairs, yes, but I have successfully operated stairs for most of my adult life.”

“Not until Rogers gives full clearance.” He said it with the flat, immovable certainty of a man reciting scripture. Then he leaned down, gave me a quick, firm kiss, and murmured,

“I’ll be back. Stay put.”

He was gone before I could argue further. I didn’t stay put, of course.

By the time he returned carrying a tray, I was sitting on the couch in one of his shirts, bare legs tucked underneath me, waiting.

He stopped in the doorway, took in the scene, and gave me a long-suffering look that somehow still managed to look fond.

He set the tray down without comment. Toast, scrambled eggs, fresh fruit, and two mugs of coffee—mine already fixed the way I liked it, the way he never forgot.

Alexander sat beside me and immediately stole a piece of strawberry from my plate.

I raised an eyebrow. “Thief.”

“Husband privileges.”

I scooped up a forkful of eggs and held it out to him. He leaned in and ate it without protest, then fed me a bite of toast in return.

We kept going like that—trading bites, stealing sips of each other’s coffee, arguing half-heartedly over the last piece of fruit—until the tray was mostly empty and I was laughing more than eating.

Crumbs scattered across the plate. His knee pressed against mine. For a few minutes the world outside the room felt far away.

He wiped a crumb from the corner of my mouth with his thumb, then leaned in and kissed it away properly. Slow. Thorough.

“You’re in a good mood,” I observed when he pulled back.

“I’m allowed to be in a good mood.”

Alexander placed a soft kiss on my temple, lingering there for a second longer than usual.

When he spoke again, the lightness had already begun to drain from his voice.

“I need to go.”

“What? Why?” I asked quietly, catching the edge of his sleeve. “Do you have to leave right now? Can’t you stay a little longer?”

He looked down at me, expression softening even as his jaw stayed tight.

“Fuck, I want to.” His voice was low. “More than you know.”

Without another word he bent, scooped me up carefully—mindful of every healed bruise, every lingering ache—and carried me the short distance back to the bed.

He laid me down like I was something fragile and priceless, pulled the comforter all the way up to my neck, and tucked it around me with deliberate care.

Then he kissed my forehead, then my lips—slow and lingering, like he was memorizing the shape of them.

“I’m going to end fucking Santos. So you never have to look over your shoulder again. I’m not risking him breathing. Breathing means he’s alive. Breathing means he can escape. And take you from me.”

I reached up and touched his cheek, feeling the tension there. “Come back to me.”

“Always.”

He gave me one last look—dark eyes steady, jaw set, every inch of him already shifting into the man the rest of the world feared—before walking out and closing the door behind him.

I closed my eyes and released the long breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. This was it. The ending Alexander had been waiting for. The ending I was desperate for.

I pulled the covers tighter around myself, pressed a hand to the place where his had rested over my stomach, and waited for my man to come back…
…after he was done slaughtering our enemy.

Alexander had only been gone a few minutes when the door flew open without warning.

Alexis breezed in, carrying a cup of coffee.
“Good morning, favourite sister-in-law,” she announced, kicking the door shut with her heel.

I raised an eyebrow from where I was still propped against the headboard. “Favourite? I’m your only sister-in-law.”

“Details.” Alexis set the cup down

“Also, technicality doesn’t undermine the sentiment. You could still be my favourite even in a hypothetical pool of many. I’m just future-proofing the compliment in case Alexander remarries after you finally murder him.”

“That’s oddly specific.”

“I try.” She kicked her feet up onto the edge of the bed. “Now. Gossip. Chronological order, or by scandal severity?”

“Scandal severity, obviously.”

“Excellent taste. Okay—Vincent tried to flirt with one of the new kitchen staff yesterday, got rejected in front of four other guards, and has been in a visible sulk ever since. Leo’s been narrating it to anyone who’ll listen like it’s a nature documentary.”

I laughed despite myself. “This is exactly the kind of content I need.”

“I know.” Alexis grinned. “It’s practically my full-time job now—Chief Officer of Keeping the Pregnant Prisoner Entertained.”

“I’m not a prisoner.”

“You’re on modified rest in a room with a husband who considers the hallway a security risk.” She flopped onto the edge of the bed.

“Also, I can’t believe Alexander finally left the room. Miracle.”

I took a sip of coffee to hide my smile. “He’s been… intense.”

“Intense is putting it mildly.” Alexis studied me. “You look better. Colour’s back.”

“Good to know.”

“So. How are you actually feeling?”

“Better. Waiting for Rogers to give the all-clear. Until then Alexander’s going to keep me in bubble wrap.”

She let out a low whistle. “Alexander must be insufferable right now.”

I huffed a quiet laugh. “Insufferable is generous. He’s appointed himself my personal security detail, medical supervisor, and professional overthinker. I tried to walk to the bathroom yesterday and he looked at me like I was attempting a prison break.”

Alexis snorted. “Sounds about right. I’m surprised he hasn’t installed alarms on every door, window, and floorboard in this place.”

Then she took a long drink of her own coffee and set it aside. “You know… Leo was talking yesterday.”

“About what?”

“About the night everything went to hell.” She picked at the edge of the blanket, uncharacteristically careful.

“He said Alexander wouldn’t let anyone else touch you.
You were unconscious. Bleeding. He had a bullet wound of his own and could barely stand, but the second anyone so much as reached for you, he nearly took their head off.”

“What?”

“Leo had to give him the full lecture. The classic you’re bleeding out too, you’re going to drop her if you don’t let someone help speech. More than once, because apparently Alexander’s brain stops processing medical advice the second you’re involved.”

Despite the ache in my chest, a tiny smile tugged at my mouth.

“And even then, he only let Leo carry you as far as the car. The second you were both inside, he took you right back. Wouldn’t let go again. Not until Rogers physically pried you out of his arms just to get you onto a bed.”

I swallowed hard, picturing it—Alexander wounded, exhausted, running on nothing but adrenaline and sheer stubbornness, still arguing his way into carrying me himself.

“He kept saying nobody else got to hold you. Like it was some sacred rule he’d just invented on the spot. Leo had to walk right beside him the entire way, just to catch him if his leg finally gave out.”

She shook her head, half exasperated, half impressed. “Absolute menace.”

My eyes stung. “That idiot,” I whispered.

There wasn’t a trace of real irritation in my voice. Only something aching. Something grateful.

Alexis squeezed my hand. “Yeah. The idiot loves you more than his own life.” She paused, then added dryly,

“Which is incredibly romantic until you remember he was actively bleeding through his clothes while doing it. Very on-brand for him.”
A watery laugh escaped me.

“I swear, that man could be missing a limb and still somehow decide the most important thing in the world was making sure you were comfortable. Priorities completely deranged.”

“He’s one of a kind.”

“Oh, completely.” Alexis nodded with mock solemnity.

“Unreasonable. Terrifyingly stubborn. Medically illiterate the second it concerns himself. But he loves you more than his own life, Alina. In case that wasn’t already extremely, embarrassingly obvious.”

I stared down at my coffee. I hadn’t known the details. Alexander never talked about it.

“Leo said he’d never seen him like that. Completely unhinged. Like the only thing that mattered in the world was getting you somewhere safe.”

“That sounds like him.”

“It does.” Alexis smiled sideways. “Terrifying man. Softest heart. Don’t tell him I said that or I’ll deny everything.”

A small, shaky laugh escaped me. “Your secret’s safe.”

She stood, stretched, and grabbed her coffee. “I’ll let you finish that in peace.”

I watched her head for the door, then called after her. “Alexis?”

She glanced back. “Thank you. For telling me.”

Her expression softened. “Anytime. Someone has to keep you updated on all the heroic nonsense he pretends never happened.”

Then she was gone, leaving the room quieter and my chest a little too full.

I looked down at the space beside me where Alexander had been earlier, still warm from his body, and felt the familiar mix of exasperation and something much deeper settle under my ribs.

Of course he had carried me.
Of course he hadn’t let anyone else touch me. That was just who he was.

And somehow, sitting here in the quiet morning light knowing he had just walked out the door to finish this once and for all, I loved him for it even more.