Chapter 175

Chapter 175
Finn's POV

I walked back into the VIP hospital room, my eyes immediately finding Hannah asleep on the bed.

The room was warm and inviting—a far cry from the sterile hospital rooms I'd experienced in my youth. Pale blue walls, soft lighting, and afternoon sunlight filtering through the half-drawn curtains created an almost homey atmosphere.

Hannah lay motionless, her face unnaturally pale against the white pillowcase. Her long eyelashes cast delicate shadows on her cheeks, and her chest rose and fell with each shallow breath. The IV in her wrist connected her to a clear bag of fluids hanging beside the bed.

I stood beside her, studying every detail of her face as if memorizing a map. The slight furrow between her brows even in sleep. The chapped lips from hours of labor. The strength visible even in her exhaustion.

Leaning down, I brushed my fingers against her hair, feeling its softness between my fingertips. The gesture was foreign to me—tenderness had never been part of my vocabulary. But with Hannah, I found myself doing things I never imagined. I bent closer and pressed my lips against the corner of her mouth, a feather-light touch that wouldn't wake her.

Her eyelids fluttered open as I straightened, revealing those warm brown eyes that somehow saw through all my darkness. They fixed on my left arm, now professionally bandaged and secured in a triangular sling. My expensive overcoat hung loosely over my shoulders, draped there by one of the doctors who'd treated me.

"Finn?" Her voice was barely audible, weak from exhaustion and pain.

"Hmm." I acknowledged her with the barest sound, not trusting my voice to remain steady.

"Tonight... so many people died." Her voice trembled, and I could see the weight of those deaths crushing her gentle spirit.

I sat on the edge of her bed, my gaze steady on hers. "I won't let Richard escape punishment."

"But those people... they're never coming back." Tears welled in her eyes, the guilt consuming her despite her innocence in all of this.

"Would it help if I told you they were already dead?" I asked, knowing she wouldn't understand.

Confusion flickered across her face, and I thought about explaining—telling her how each member of Hellbound had been someone I'd personally saved from suicide. How they'd all been ready to end their lives for different reasons when I found them. How they'd pledged their second chances to me in exchange for purpose.

But I couldn't form the words. Couldn't expose that part of myself, even to her.

"The person who sent men to kill them was Richard," I said instead, my voice hardening. "The person who put them in danger was me. None of this has anything to do with you."

Tears spilled down her cheeks, and I reached out with my good hand, gently wiping them away. The tenderness of my own gesture surprised me. I wasn't gentle. I wasn't kind. And yet with Hannah, these alien impulses seemed to surface against my will.

"What about your arm?" she asked, her eyes moving to my sling. "Any other injuries?"

The corner of my mouth lifted in a half-smile as I looked at her, my gaze deliberately playful. "Want me to take off my clothes so you can check?"

She closed her eyes weakly, the exhaustion evident in every line of her face. Looking at her, I felt something unfamiliar twist in my chest.

"Keep resting," I said, my voice dropping to a near whisper.

"Is childbirth painful?" I asked suddenly, the question escaping before I could stop it. But Hannah had already drifted back toward sleep, her breathing evening out.

I watched her, self-recrimination coursing through me. She had nearly died bringing my child into the world. Had risked her life facing Richard. And I had put her in that position—had brought her into my dangerous world because I couldn't let her go.

"Seeing you safe makes me happy," she murmured, half-asleep, her words slurring slightly.

Something inside me stilled at her words.

"Happy that you can go on with your life," she added, her voice fading.

I looked at her, really looked at her—this woman who had somehow wormed her way past every defense I'd built. Who had seen the monster in me and stayed anyway.

"Okay," I said, squeezing her hand gently. "But from now on, we're going through it together."

Her lips curved into the faintest smile as she drifted back to sleep.

I left the room, feeling the shift in my expression the moment the door closed behind me. The softness vanished, replaced by the cold, sharp edges I'd cultivated for years. My eyes turned glacial as I faced the security team waiting in the hallway.

"Report," I demanded, voice stripped of all warmth.

"Eight casualties confirmed, sir. Others injured to varying degrees," one of the security informed me, standing at attention. "We could breach the ICU if you give the word," he suggested, eager to avenge his comrades.

I swept him with a cold glance. "If you want to die so badly, jump out the window. I won't stop you."

He paled, taking a half-step back.

"Pull all exterior surveillance personnel back," I ordered. "Focus everything on hospital security."

"And Mr. Richard Sterling, sir?"

I stared down the corridor, my voice deadly calm. "Tell William he has three days to hand Richard over to the FBI, or I'll collect this blood debt personally."

The message was clear. This was no longer just business. This was about Hannah, about our child, about the family Richard had tried to destroy.

And I would make him pay for every drop of blood he'd tried to spill.