Chapter 37 Chapter 37
Sophia's POV
The first thing I noticed was the faint, antiseptic smell mingling with the sweet tang of lavender in the air. My eyes blinked open slowly, adjusting to the soft, sterile light of a room that felt unfamiliar and too clean.
Machines hummed quietly in the corners, beeping at intervals, and a thin, white sheet covered me from chest to knees.
I realized my head throbbed lightly, not painfully, but enough to make me lift a hand to my temple, wincing.
Hospital. That was the first thought that struck me. The next was the dull ache in my arms and legs, bruises blooming faintly beneath my clothes.
Panic wanted to flare, but it was tempered by the relief that my body felt mostly intact. Nothing broken, nothing deep.
Minor injuries. I exhaled shakily, heart still racing from the memory of the car.
And then I saw him. Ethan. Sitting in a chair just beside the bed, his gaze fixed on me, worry etched in every line of his face.
His dark eyes softened as soon as they met mine, the tension in his jaw palpable.
“Sophia,” he breathed, standing quickly and leaning over me. “Thank God. I was so scared.”
I blinked, trying to push away the embarrassment that rose hot in my chest.
“I… I’m okay, Ethan,” I said softly, my voice still hoarse from the accident.
“It’s just…minor injuries, nothing serious.”
He shook his head, guilt flashing across his features.
“Don’t say that. You could have… anything could have happened. I shouldn’t have let you get that close to the road. I should have…”
I reached up and laid a hand on his arm, squeezing gently.
“Shh,” I murmured. “It’s not your fault. I’m sorry for making you worry.” The words came out quicker than I expected, a soft admission I didn’t fully anticipate.
He knelt beside me, brushing a strand of hair from my face.
“I’m sorry too,” he whispered. “I shouldn't have said those things. I should have protected you better.”
We stayed like that for a moment, the silence between us heavy with unspoken fears and relief, until a sudden vibration from his pocket broke it.
Ethan glanced down at his phone and his eyes darkened slightly. “I have to take this,” he said reluctantly, standing and stepping a few paces away.
I watched him go, a little deflated.
The quiet that returned to the room was almost comforting, and I shifted slightly, trying to swing my legs over the edge of the bed. My muscles felt stiff and sore, but the urge to move and regain some normalcy overpowered the pain.
That’s when I noticed a small, folded piece of paper lying near the nightstand, the edges blackened as if scorched by flame.
My stomach tightened at the familiar, faintly sweet and metallic scent that clung to it, the magical signature I recognized instantly. Kira . She was reaching out.
I hesitated, then slid my fingers carefully over the paper, feeling its texture, the slight warmth still lingering in the burnt edges. My heart thumped faster as I read the curling words forming in her familiar script:
“Meet me again at the café. It's urgent.”
My mind raced. How was I supposed to leave unnoticed? Ethan had just gone to take his call, I couldn’t risk him seeing this. I folded the paper carefully, hiding it under the blanket, and tried to occupy myself, turning my attention to small things the way the sunlight fell across the white sheets, the faint scent of antiseptic mixing with lingering traces of lavender from the detergent used in cleaning the room.
When Ethan returned, I forced a smile, tucking away my sudden tension.
“Everything okay?” I asked casually, trying to sound normal.
He nodded, though his eyes lingered on me for a moment too long. “Yeah… just a work thing.” His gaze softened. “How are you feeling?”
“Better,” I replied, shifting slightly so he wouldn’t see the paper tucked beneath the blanket. I added casually, “I was thinking… maybe I could go out for a bit. Get some fresh air. Just for a short walk.”
Ethan frowned, hesitation flickering across his features. “You’re not exactly strong enough to be walking around yet. You're just waking up since your admission yesterday. Don't you think moving around is a little too soon?”
Before I could respond, a faint whisper interrupted the moment.
“Sophia,” came Max’s voice, low and urgent as a way of greeting before he stepped silently into the room, eyes scanning me carefully. He turned and whispered in Ethan’s ear.
I strained to hear but couldn't make out a word. Taking advantage of their brief distraction, my eyes darted to the paper again.
The letters were moving, reshaping themselves. New words forming:
“Rumors are spreading around the covens. The assassination guild has taken a major contract. Lila may be involved. You must tell Ethan to double defenses immediately.”
A chill ran down my spine. The words were urgent, laden with warning, but how was I supposed to tell Ethan about it without needing to give any explanation. Just as I was making up an excuse in my head, the air shifted. The soft hum of the machines, the distant city noises they all faded into an oppressive, unnatural silence. My chest tightened. Something was wrong.
Then, without warning, a shadow appeared across the wall. I didn’t see who it belonged to, but the cold sense of danger pressed against me like a storm.
“Ethan!” I screamed out of instinct, my voice cracked, but he still heard me only I was too slow.
A dagger struck.
His voice tore from his throat in a low, strangled groan, guttural and raw, as if he were swallowing his scream, refusing to let his pain be heard while his hands clawed uselessly at the blade now protruding from his chest. A crimson bloom spread across his shirt, stark against the white fabric. It felt like the world had been ripped out from beneath my feet.
I scrambled out of bed, yanking the IV from my arm without a second thought as I rushed toward him. Max was already gone, chasing after the assailant who had somehow slipped in and out without making a sound.
I reached Ethan just in time, lifting his head onto my lap as tears spilled down my cheeks. “Stay with me,” I begged. “Please don’t die on me, Ethan.”
He gasped for breath, eyes wide and unfocused, and with shaking determination, he reached up and slowly pulled the blade from his chest. Time stretched, every second unbearable, before a group of nurses rushed in and pulled him from my arms.
I staggered after them, but my body betrayed me. My knees buckled, refusing to hold me upright.
“E‑Ethan,” I cried, my voice breaking as fear, guilt, and helplessness crashed over me.
The monitor in the room beeped insistently as they wheeled him away, indifferent to the chaos tearing through my chest. All I could think was that this was my fault. I should have shown him
the letter, consequences be damned.
If anything happened to him, I would never forgive myself.