CHAPTER 228

CHAPTER 228
BRIELLE

The hospital room felt smaller than it should have, but it was the safest place in the world right now because Damien was in it.

I stood in the doorway for a second, just looking at him. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, shirt off, fresh bandages wrapped around his chest and arms. His jaw was bruised, a dark shadow spreading across his skin, and there were small cuts on his face. But his eyes…those beautiful grey eyes —lit up the second they landed on me, and a tired but real smile tugged at his lips.

“Oh Damien,” I breathed, rushing to him as fast as my pregnant body would allow. “How do you look so good even like this? You’re all beat up and still somehow the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.”

He let out a low, raspy chuckle that turned into a wince as he reached for me. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Luna. Come here.”

I climbed carefully onto the bed beside him, ignoring the nurse’s soft protest about taking it easy. The moment I was close enough, his arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me against his side. I rested my head on his shoulder, one hand on his chest right over his heart, feeling the steady beat beneath my palm. He was warm. 

So warm

“You really came,” he murmured against my hair, voice rough but full of relief. His free hand moved to my belly, resting there gently as Aurora gave a strong kick, like she was saying hello to her father. “You should be resting”

I laughed softly, the sound watery with leftover tears. “Like I could stay away. I needed to see you. I needed to touch you. When Jack called and I heard your voice… I almost collapsed right there on the couch. You have no idea how scared I was.”

He kissed the top of my head, lingering there. “I know. I’m sorry I put you through that. But look at me… I’m fine. A little banged up, a few stitches, and my pride is bruised worse than my jaw. But I’m here. I’m with you.”

I pulled back just enough to look at his face, gently tracing the bruise on his jaw with my fingertips. “You look like you went ten rounds with a professional boxer. But you’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. How are you feeling? Really?”

“Sore,” he admitted, but his eyes were soft as they stayed on mine. “The drugs they gave me are wearing off, so everything hurts a bit. But nothing’s broken. Jack and the cops got there fast. I’m going to be okay. The doctor said I can go home soon — just rest and pain meds for a few days.”

I let out a shaky breath, pressing my forehead to his. “Good. Because I need you home. The bed felt too big this morning. The whole penthouse felt wrong without you. I kept reaching for you in my sleep and you weren’t there.”

He tightened his arm around me, careful of my belly. “I’m sorry I left. I was angry and scared and I handled it like an idiot. But I’m here now. I’m not going anywhere.”

We stayed like that for a long while….tangled together on the hospital bed, his hand on my belly, my head on his shoulder. The nurses came and went, checking his vitals and changing bandages, but we barely noticed. It was just us. The beeps of the machines, the quiet murmur of the hospital around us, and the steady beat of his heart under my palm.

After a few minutes, the question I’d been holding back finally slipped out.

“What about her?” I whispered, my voice small. “The woman who took you. The stalker. Is she…?”

Damien’s hand paused on my belly for a second before continuing its gentle strokes. 

“She’s been arrested,” he said quietly. “She didn’t put up much of a fight once they stormed the warehouse. She’s in custody now. You don’t have to worry about her anymore.”

I let out a shaky breath, but the relief didn’t come. Instead, a wave of guilt crashed over me so hard it stole my voice for a moment. I pressed my face into his shoulder, breathing in the faint hospital smell mixed with his skin, and tried to hold back the tears that were already threatening again.

“How can I not worry?” I whispered, my voice cracking. “This is all because of me, Damien. My book. The Veiled Heart. I wrote those words. I created the Shadow King. I poured so much  into that story…the control, the fear, the love that sometimes felt like chains and now someone read it and decided it was real. She decided you were the villain who needed to be removed so I could be ‘free.’ She hurt you because of something I created. Because I put our story out there for the world to see.”

The tears came faster now, hot and relentless. I couldn’t stop them.

“I keep thinking about it,” I continued, voice trembling. “Every scene I wrote where the Shadow King was possessive, where he made the heroine doubt herself, where he thought he was protecting her but was actually trapping her… And now that book is out there, and someone twisted it into this nightmare. She kidnapped you. She cut you. She made you bleed because she thought she was the heroine saving me from you. How am I supposed to live with that? How am I supposed to look at you and not feel like I caused this?”

I was sobbing openly now, my shoulders shaking as I clung to him. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry. If I hadn’t written it… if I hadn’t published it… you wouldn’t have been taken. You wouldn’t have been hurt. I did this. My words did this.”

Damien shifted carefully, turning so he could cup my face in both hands, thumbs brushing away my tears even as his own eyes glistened with emotion. His touch was gentle, reverent, like I was something precious he was afraid to break.

“Luna… stop,” he whispered, voice thick. “This is not your fault. You hear me? You wrote a beautiful, honest story about pain and love and healing. You poured your heart into it, and it touched people. That’s not a crime. That’s a gift. What that woman did… that’s on her. She’s sick. She lost herself in fiction and decided to make it real. That’s not because of you. That’s because of her own darkness.”

He leaned in and kissed my forehead, then my wet cheeks, then the tip of my nose.

“I love that you wrote that book,” he continued softly, his forehead resting against mine. “I love that you turned our pain into something beautiful. I love that readers found hope in it. And I love that you trusted the world with your words. None of that makes this your fault. You didn’t create a monster. You created art. She chose to twist it. That’s on her. Not you.”

I shook my head, still crying. “But I—”

“No,” he said firmly. “No buts. You are not responsible for the actions of a deranged person who couldn’t separate fiction from reality. You are responsible for the love you gave me. For the daughter you’re carrying. For the way you make me want to be a better man every single day. That’s what matters. That’s what I see when I look at you. And I’m sorry I walked out,” he whispered. “I was scared. The thought of you facing Thomas again, of him hurting you or Aurora… it terrified me. I handled it wrong. I should have stayed and held you. I should have listened instead of running. I’m so sorry, Luna. I never want to make you feel like you can’t talk to me. I never want to leave you again.”

I cried harder, but this time the tears felt cleansing. “I’m sorry too. I pushed too hard. I should have told you about the calls sooner. I should have trusted you with my fears instead of trying to handle them alone. We’re both messes, aren’t we?”

He chuckled softly, the sound warm and tired, and pulled me closer. “The best kind of mess. My mess. Our mess. And we’re going to figure it out together. Like we always do.”

“I love you,” I whispered against his chest.

“I love you more,” he replied, kissing the top of my head. “Always.”