Page 194

I unfold my legs and stand, pulling her in for a hug. “Thank you,” I whisper.

She squeezes me back like she knows the burden of killing someone. It feels… nice. Like maybe she could be a friend.

Axel purses his lips before giving a nod to Jac, and they both leave the room.

I stare at the gently swaying curtain, impatience and worry settling back in my stomach again.

Luke is dead.

Jenny is dead.

Everything is perfect.

Bar the one person who should be here.

As if some silent prayer has been answered, the curtain opens, revealing a short woman with fiery red hair, wearing clean scrubs. Her blue eyes cut to Jacques, then me. Jacques stands, his coffee cup forgotten on the small bedside table.

Silence.

More bloody silence.

Her heart-shaped face lights up with a smile. “The surgery was successful.”

I feel the weight of everything crumbling off me. Lightness fills me, but I crash to the bed, my head buried in my hands, fresh tears spilling. Tears of relief. Happiness. Strong arms wrap around me tightly, Jacques’ own body shaking with relief.

“Swear to me, Estella,” his chest rumbles against my uncasted arm.

“He’s back in his room now. Pretty beat up and asleep, but he’s back. You can go and see him.”

I’ve never been up so fast, following the short, curvy woman around the hospital.

She opens a door to a bigger room, one that looks a little more homely than a standard hospital room, with warm colours and a cream floor.

And there he is, peacefully lying in the middle of the room.

My hand flies to my mouth. “Oh my god.”

There are stitches all over his torso and arms and a few bruises on his face.

But he’s alive.

“He might be asleep for a few hours. His body has been through a lot, but you’re welcome to stay. I’ll be popping in every so often to check on him,” Estella’s sweet voice explains. I turn and rush into her arms.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” I whisper-chant.

She taps me gently on the back as I pull away and beeline it towards Xander’s bed, gripping his warm—warm—hand in mine and sagging into the chair next to his bed.

“Thank you, Estella,” I hear Jacques mutter. They exchange a short conversation before he comes to sit on the opposite side of the bed. “Thank fuck,” he sighs, scrubbing a hand down his face.

I tremble with relief as my eyes sting from tears.

Estella knocks on the open door before walking in wearing a white doctor's coat. Her hair falls in long waves down her back, and her small, round, freckled face holds a serious expression. She’s pretty.

Xander’s chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm, and the monitor beeps every second.

“I hope I’m not disturbing,” she says, her gentle voice soothing the tense air. “I’m just coming to check his vitals.”

It’s evening now. Neither of us have left the room; we’re both just waiting for any sign of life from Xander.