“I know, Star,” I press my lips to her forehead.
For the first time in my life, tears sting my eyes. I hold my head, rocking back and forth like an orphan.
“Don’t ever leave me again,” I whisper, resting my forehead on hers, eyes closed. “Never leave me, baby.”
“I promise.” She steals another kiss.
“You promised,” I whisper. “You fuckingpromised...”
I’d rather get a bullet than go through this, whatever it is. Mourning? Agony? Both and more. If I hadn’t agreed to send her away, she’d be okay. She’d be safe.
Everything ceases to exist. Without her, there’s nothing.
I’mnothing.
The terrifying sound echoes down the corridor and resonates all over my body, constantly announcing that Layla’s heart stopped beating.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Dante
The Earth starts spinning again when wide-eyed Julij slaps me across the face with all his might. I’m not sure how he managed to lift me off the floor and up to my feet or where his strength came from, but it worked.
I jerk myself out of the lethargy, the sheer insanity.
“She’s back,” he says, snapping his fingers in my face to ensure I’m not just looking at him but seeing him too. “Layla’s alive. She’s still here.”
I blink a few times, noticing a doctor behind Julij’s back. His eyes are trained on us, his expression impenetrable as he waits for me to pull myself together.
I have a hard time doing so.
My body can’t keep up with my heart and mind. A few seconds ago, I was damn near catatonic, but now the good kind of adrenaline zaps me back to life. Hope returns along with determination.
I clear my throat, making room for words, moistening the dryness. “What the fuck happened?”
The doctor glances between Anatolij and me, his back straight. He draws his eyebrows together, utterly puzzled. I bet if he weren’t scared of us, he’d shrug to say he has no fucking clue. For his sake, it’s better that heisscared. No one in their right mind, knowing who Anatolij is and what kind of damage he can inflict on a person, would dare to enrage him while his only child is on the other side of the door, putting up a hell of a fight with the fucking Reaper himself.
“Layla is very weak,” he says.
“We know that,” Anatolij snaps. Not unlike me, he has no patience left.
Guilt still taints his features. I think he wants to redeem himself somehow. Maybe he doesn’t believe I really don’t blame him. There’s nothing I would’ve done differently if I were there last night.
“We thought it may be a clot, but we can’t find it. I’m afraid her body is simply giving up. She’s too weak.”
She’s not fucking weak. She’s the strongest person I know. “What’s the next step? What will you do now?”
“Unfortunately, not much. We did everything we could. Now we can only wait and see if she’ll stabilize. It all depends on whether her organs pick up and start working, whether she’s strong enough to pull through.”
“She’s strong,” I repeat for the hundredth time. No one can doubt it. “She’s strong. She’ll be fine.”
The doctor nods, pity in his eyes. He bows slightly before marching away in the opposite direction. Julij wants to say something, but I don’t feel like talking. I raise my hand to stop him from trying, then enter Layla’s room and close the door. She needs peace. I need her. Watching her calm face, I hold her hand, hoping that the worst is behind us, that things will only get better now. She has her whole life ahead of her. She’s not even twenty yet but endured more than most do during a lifetime. She deserves peace, and I will make sure she gets it.
I sit in the chair by her bed, her hand in mine, my lips gliding along her knuckles. “When you get out of here, I won’t ever let you out of my sight again. I won’t risk losing you, Star. I’ll reorganize my work. I’ll change the way the business operates. I’ll leave it all behind if that’s what you want just don’t give up. I need you. You promised you wouldn’t leave me again.”
There’s not a thing I won’t do if it means Layla will get better. Faith has never been a part of my life, but right now, I’m the most believing atheist God has ever seen. I sit motionless for what seems like hours. My eyes dart between her and the machines surrounding the bed. My heart sinks every time the pause between two heartbeats seems longer than before.
Around noon, a soft knock precedes the door opening slowly. “You should rest,” Anatolij says, stopping at the foot of the bed. “Shower, dinner, nap. You’re more than welcome at my house any time you want.”