Chapter 186 Darkness
~Hermes~
Darkness.
Not the peaceful kind. The heavy, endless kind that presses against my chest and makes breathing feel optional.
“Hermes, honey.”
Natalya’s voice.
I turn sharply, my pulse spiking. “Natalya?” My voice echoes, swallowed whole by the void.
That’s impossible.
Natalya is dead.
The thought lands with a sickening clarity. I know this. I remember this. So why is her voice threading through the dark like a hook in my ribs?
“Hermes, honey. Come with me.”
The words drift ahead of me, coaxing, familiar, wrong.
I take a step forward anyway.
If this is death, then it’s cruelly accurate—voices from the past, calling me where I don’t belong.
Then—
“Marcus, son.”
My breath catches.
I turn.
That voice… no. That voice hasn’t existed for decades.
“Mother,” I whisper. My throat tightens painfully. “Mom…”
If the dead are calling me by name, then this must be it. I must be gone.
Did June not sign the consent form? Did I not survive the surgery? Did I leave her alone with our baby?
The thought slices through me like glass.
Light blooms ahead—soft, warm, blinding after all that dark.
She stands there.
My mother.
Just as I remember her. Just as she looked before the hospital rooms, before the wires and machines, before death stole her gently and then all at once. She’s smiling, arms open, eyes full of a love that nearly drops me to my knees.
I break.
I rush forward and fold into her embrace, clinging like a child. “I’m sorry,” I choke. “I should’ve— I—”
Her hands come up, warm, real, cupping my face. She wipes my tears as if no time has passed at all.
“Oh, baby,” she murmurs. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
My chest caves.
“I’m sorry for leaving you so soon,” she continues softly. “But you have to go now.”
I pull back just enough to look at her, confusion cutting through the grief. “Go where? Am I not… dead?”
She smiles, gentle but firm, fingers brushing my cheek. “No. You aren’t.”
Relief crashes into me so hard it almost hurts.
“You need to leave,” she says, turning my shoulders slightly. “She’s waiting for you.”
My heart stutters. I follow her gaze toward the light.
“June?” I ask.
“Yes, baby. June.”
She releases me, stepping back, still smiling. Still guiding.
I move forward slowly, glancing back once more. My mother nods, urging me on.
Then—
A figure slams into my path.
Natalya.
She’s pale. Blood stains her dress, her hands clutching her stomach as if trying to keep herself together. Her eyes are wild, desperate.
“Where are you going?” she groans. “Come with me. We’re meant to be.”
I stumble back, my breath coming fast. “No,” I say immediately. “We aren’t.”
The words come easily. Surely. Like truth finally unclenching my jaw.
“I love June,” I say. “Not you.”
Her face twists, dissolving into something unrecognizable as the darkness pulls her away.
Then—
“Hermes.”
My name.
Not an echo. Not a memory.
Her voice.
“Mr. Grande— Hermes… come back to me.”
June.
Panic and longing ignite at once. I turn blindly, running toward the light as it floods everything, burning away the dark, the ghosts, the doubts.
“June!” I call—
And then—
I gasp.
My eyes fly open. Air rushes into my lungs like I’ve been drowning for years.
White ceiling. Harsh lights. The steady, mechanical beep… beep… beep of a monitor beside me.
Hospital.
My chest rises sharply as reality snaps into place. I turn my head, heart hammering, scanning the room.
“June,” I whisper hoarsely, searching.
Where is she?
Where is June?
I hear the door open.
My eyes snap toward the sound, locking with a nurse’s startled gaze. For a second, she just stares—then her face breaks open with shock.
“Mr. Grande—” Her voice pitches high. “You’re awake. He’s awake!”
She rushes out before I can stop her, leaving the room suddenly too quiet.
I try to sit up.
Pain explodes through my abdomen, sharp and unforgiving, dragging a groan from my throat as my body slams back into the mattress. My hand instinctively flies to my stomach.
Tight and thick bandages wrapped carefully around my torso.
What the hell—
Why is my body injured?
This wasn’t supposed to be there. This was my head. My memory. My mind.
Did they operate on me?
The door clicks open again.
A man in a white coat steps inside, clipboard in hand, followed by the same nurse. I search past them automatically.
“Where’s Ted?” I ask hoarsely, forcing myself to lie still.
The doctor pauses. His brows crease slightly. “I’m sorry—Ted?”
My pulse stutters.
“Yes. Ted,” I repeat. “He should be here.”
The doctor exchanges a glance with the nurse. “Mr. Grande, this is City Hospital. There’s no record of anyone named Ted being admitted with you.”
Cold creeps down my spine.
“Where am I?” I ask, my voice sharper now, edged with panic.
“Please don’t try to sit up,” the doctor says quickly as I tense again. He gestures to the nurse, who steps closer, ready to restrain me if needed. “You’ve been through major trauma.”
“Answer me,” I snap.
“I’m Dr. Kennedy,” he says calmly. “And you’re in City Hospital, Toronto.”
Toronto? Canada.
The word hits like a slap.
“What?” I surge forward again, ignoring the pain. “No. That’s not possible.”
“Please—”
“I need to see my father,” I cut in, ripping the IV from my arm. Pain flares, blood blooming, but I don’t care. “Now.”
The door opens before anyone can stop me.
Lucien steps inside.
“Oh, thank God,” he breathes, crossing the room quickly. “You’re awake.”
He pulls me into a tight embrace.
I don’t return it.
My mind is racing too fast, pieces colliding violently. “Why am I in Canada?” I demand. “What happened to me?”
Lucien exhales slowly, the sound heavy, practiced. He turns to the doctor. “Is he stable?”
“Yes,” Dr. Kennedy replies. “He just needs to complete the IV and—”
“I’m fine,” I snap, shrugging off the nurse’s attempt to help. My eyes bore into my father. “Answer me.”
Lucien hesitates.
That’s when my chest tightens.
“I just have one question,” I say. “Where is June?”
The room stills.
My father’s face changes—just for a second. His eyes flick away.
“You shouldn’t have brought me here,” I continue, panic threading into my voice. “I need to go back to Las Vegas. June is there. She’s waiting for me. She’s—” My breath stutters. “She’s carrying my child.”
Lucien’s head snaps up.
“That girl left you,” he says flatly.
The words don’t register at first.
“You were unconscious for too long,” he goes on. “She couldn’t wait.”
Something inside me collapses.
My hands fall limp at my sides, strength draining so fast it scares me. “No,” I whisper. “That’s a lie.”
Lucien sighs, almost tired. “Hermes—”
“She would never leave me,” I insist, shaking my head. “Never.”
Lucien reaches into his jacket and pulls out an envelope. “Then read this.”
I snatch it from his hand.
My fingers tremble as I unfold the paper.
The handwriting stops my heart. Her handwriting.
|I’m sorry, Hermes. I had to go.|
The room tilts.
“No,” I breathe.
It can’t be real. But my hands know her writing.