Chapter 137
Aria's POV
The sleek corridors of the Artemis Medical Center seemed to stretch endlessly as I followed Marcus's hurried footsteps.
"This way, Miss Harper," Marcus said, his voice tight with strain. The bruising on his face looked worse under the hallway lights, and I noticed him favoring his left leg with each step.
Several people in expensive-looking medical attire stood huddled at the end of the corridor, their voices low but urgent. Their tense expressions made my stomach clench. When they spotted us, a woman in a tailored white coat stepped forward, her expression grave.
"Thank you for coming, Ms. Harper. I'm Dr. Winters," she said, extending her hand. Her grip was firm, professional. "Mr. Kane needs immediate attention, but he's refusing treatment. Perhaps you can help."
My heart pounded against my ribs. "What happened to him?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady even as my mind raced through worst-case scenarios.
Dr. Winters hesitated, glancing at Marcus. "Mr. Kane sustained a gunshot wound to his abdomen. The bullet needs to be removed immediately, but he's... uncooperative."
"A gunshot wound?" I repeated, my voice rising. The words felt thick in my throat. "Why isn't he in a regular hospital?"
"Given Mr. Kane's... position, and the circumstances of the injury, discretion is paramount," she replied carefully. "The person who did this might be monitoring emergency rooms."
The implication sent a jolt through me. This wasn't just an accident; someone had deliberately tried to harm Devon. And judging by Marcus's injuries, he had been caught in the crossfire. The thought of Devon being targeted made me feel unexpectedly protective.
The doctor led me to a door at the end of the hallway. "He's asked for you specifically. No one else can approach him."
When I stepped into the room, the sight of Devon knocked the breath from my lungs. He lay on a medical bed, his white shirt soaked crimson. His face was ashen, eyes closed, dark lashes stark against his pale skin. My hand instinctively flew to my mouth, and for a terrifying moment, I thought he might already be dead.
Then his eyes snapped open, finding mine instantly. The gray of his irises seemed almost silver in the harsh lighting, and the intensity in them made me freeze in place. Even wounded, he radiated power.
"Everyone out," he commanded, his voice hoarse but still carrying that unmistakable authority. "Except her."
The medical staff exchanged worried glances but complied, filing out silently until only Devon and I remained.
I approached the bed slowly, conscious of my uneven breathing. "You need treatment," I said, my voice softer than intended. "They need to remove the bullet."
A cold smile twisted his lips, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Do you actually care if I die, Aria?" His fingers gripped the edge of the bed, knuckles white with pain he refused to acknowledge. "After all, you spent quite a cozy evening with Jeremy while I was away."
The jealousy in his voice contrasted sharply with his physical vulnerability. I felt a strange mix of irritation and concern wash over me.
"Is this really the time?" I asked, stepping closer. "You're bleeding out, and you want to discuss who I spend time with?"
I forced myself to look directly at his wound. The sight of so much blood made my head swim, but I kept my expression neutral. My fingers trembled slightly as I reached for his hand, surprising both of us.
"Yes, I care if you die," I said, meeting his gaze directly. "If only because you just acquired shares in my father's company."
Something in my blunt honesty seemed to cut through his defenses. The tension in his face eased slightly, and he exhaled a shaky breath. For a brief moment, his eyes revealed raw pain—not just physical—before he masked it again.
"I'll allow treatment on one condition," he said, his voice quieter. "You stay. The entire time."
"That's absurd," I protested, though I didn't pull my hand away. "I'm not medical staff."
Dr. Winters chose that moment to reenter, clearly having listened at the door. "Mr. Kane has an extreme adverse reaction to anesthesia. We need to perform the procedure while he's conscious, and having someone he... trusts... might help keep him stable."
Devon's eyes never left mine, searching for something. His next words weren't spoken as a challenge, but almost as a confession: "Think carefully, Aria. This is your perfect opportunity to be rid of me. Just walk away."
I studied his face, seeing beyond the controlled expression to the genuine strain beneath. My decision was made before I'd even processed the implications. "Fine," I said firmly. "I'll stay."
Things moved quickly after that. Someone handed me a set of sterile scrubs to put on over my clothes. I was positioned at Devon's head, instructed to hold his hand and keep him distracted. The irony wasn't lost on me—two months ago, I'd schemed to seduce this man for revenge, and now I was literally holding his hand through a bullet extraction.
When the procedure began, Devon's grip on my hand tightened painfully. His jaw clenched, a muscle working in his cheek. His face remained outwardly composed, but I could feel the tremendous effort it took him to stay still. The sheen of sweat on his forehead betrayed the agony he was experiencing.
Without thinking, I leaned closer, my free hand moving to his temple, brushing back a strand of hair. "I'm here," I whispered, my voice steady despite my racing heart. "I'm not going anywhere."
His eyes found mine, wide with an emotion I couldn't name. He gave a barely perceptible nod, then closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing.
As Dr. Winters worked, I couldn't help but notice other marks on Devon's exposed torso—scars of various ages crisscrossing his skin. Some looked surgical, but others were clearly the result of violence. One particularly nasty mark along his collarbone appeared to be a burn. Each scar told a story of pain I hadn't known existed.
My mind raced back to the file I'd seen, the mentions of Connor Kane's violent tendencies. The pieces started falling into place, revealing a history of suffering I hadn't imagined behind Devon's powerful exterior.
"Who did this to you?" I asked quietly, my eyes meeting his when they fluttered open.
Something darkened in his gaze—not anger, but a deep-seated fear that surprised me. "Aria," he breathed, his voice strained, "some secrets will put you in danger if you know them. This is one of them."
It wasn't a threat—it was a warning. For perhaps the first time since I'd met him, I glimpsed genuine concern for my welfare beneath his usual commanding demeanor. The realization shifted something in my chest.
When the bullet was finally extracted, Devon's body relaxed slightly, though his face remained drawn with pain. He was moved to a recovery room, where monitors beeped steadily, tracking his vitals. His hand hadn't released mine throughout the entire ordeal.
I gathered my things, ready to leave now that the crisis had passed. But as I gently tried to disentangle my fingers from his and turned toward the door, Devon's voice stopped me.
"Stay."
The word hung in the air between us. Not a command this time, but something closer to a request—almost a plea. I hesitated, studying his face—the dark circles under his eyes, the tension that hadn't fully left his features despite the pain medication. There was a rawness to him I'd never seen before.
I lowered myself into the chair beside his bed, my decision made without words. "Just until you fall asleep," I said softly.
He took my hand again, gentler this time, his thumb brushing lightly over my knuckles. He closed his eyes, the lines of his face gradually smoothing out. Within minutes, his breathing slowed and deepened. Dr. Winters entered to check his status and gave me a small smile.
"He's actually sleeping," she said, sounding surprised. "That's... unusual for Mr. Kane."
I looked down at Devon's sleeping face, suddenly reminded of what I'd heard about his insomnia. The vulnerability in his expression made him look younger, almost peaceful—a stark contrast to his usual guarded intensity. His fingers remained loosely entwined with mine, as if ensuring I wouldn't leave.
As I watched him sleep, still holding his hand, I wondered what other scars he carried that weren't visible on his skin. And I wondered why, despite all my attempts to maintain distance, I couldn't bring myself to pull away.