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"Good answer," he mutters.

He nods again and looks away, glancing out the window.

"You should probably also know that you're only alive because I kept you alive in the car when your lungs stopped working.” He clears his throat. "Mouth to mouth."

My brows arch.

"For twenty-six minutes," he adds.

“Wow.” I shake my head before I look at him. “Thank you, Had⁠—”

“We don't ever need to talk about that again. Like, literally ever."

"Fair."

He sighs. “But you're welcome."

A sudden wave of pain washes through my shoulder. I grunt as I drop my head back to the pillow.

“The pain will fade,” Hades says, reading my facial expression. “You both came in pretty banged up.” His jaw clenches. “That motherfucker did a number on your shoulders with those meat hooks. But the doc patched you up, and a family connect I’ve got with the CIA landed you a dose of that VX antidote. You’re also both on enough antibiotics to sterilize the Hudson fucking River. Fuck knows what was in that blood you were in.”

I wince when I try to sit up again, the dull ache in my shoulder coming in agonizing waves. So instead, I lie back on the soft pillow. My eyes take in the elegant, paneled walls. The view through the window of a beautiful rose garden and the city beyond it. A painting hangs on the wall, and the longer I look at it, the more I’m convinced it’s an original Renoir.

My brow is furrowed as I glance at Hades.

"Where the hell am I?”

“My grandmother Dimitra’s house,” he says. “My family has a surgeon with a whole team on call. Taking care of this here rather than a hospital felt…” He smiles. “Simpler. And considering the fucking horror-show state you two were in, much less prone to questions.” He nods past me at my sleeping parents. “Your brother and sister were here for ages, too. They just left about an hour ago.”

“I need to see Bella.”

“You need to wait. She’s sleeping,” Hades says.

"Then I'll watch her sleep."

He huffs out an exhale. “Jesus, I can see why you and Queen Stubborn get along so well.” He frowns at me. “She needs to rest, kid. Plus, the doc's got her on enough sedatives to knock out a horse. She's not going to be up for hours⁠—”

The door slams open so hard the knob bangs plaster dust off the wall.

My parents jolt awake, my dad already half on his feet with a gun in his hand and my mom gasping sharply.

And there, swaying haggardly in the door like the gorgeous little homicidal Murder Muppet that she is, is my wife.

Her hospital gown is falling off one shoulder. Her bad arm is strapped across her chest in a sling, and her other one is clinging tightly to an IV pole that she’s more dragging than leaning on, an IV line still snaking into the back of her hand.

She looks gloriously unhinged. Like a feral, furious little ghost.

She also looks like the most beautiful woman in the world.

"Mrs. Barone!” a panting voice calls out. “I insist that you⁠—"

The doctor and two others in scrubs come rushing up behind her to stop her. Part of me wants to warn them what a shit idea that is.

The other part just stares transfixed, like I’m watching a car crash in slow motion, or one of those nature shows where the alligator is like two seconds from chomping down on the gazelle.

Bella whirls on them just as they reach her.

"Just try and fucking stop me from seeing my husband, and I will shish-kabob you in the anus with this fucking IV pole!”