Nikolai's eyes darkened as he studied her face, every small bruise, every scratch etched into his memory like it was carved there with a knife. His voice, low and dangerous, cut through the sterile hum of the hospital machines.
"Did they hurt you?"
Rose hesitated, her lips parting as if she might downplay it, but she caught the sharp intensity in his gaze. He wasn't asking casually; he was demanding the truth, and anything less would only ignite the storm simmering behind his eyes.
"A little," she admitted finally, her voice softer than she intended. She shifted uncomfortably, wincing at the dull ache in her ribs. "I… might've provoked them a bit." A nervous laugh slipped past her lips, brittle and thin, like she was trying to disguise the sting of memory with humor.
Nikolai didn't return the laugh. He leaned closer instead, his hand gripping the rail of her bed so tightly that his knuckles whitened. "I will find every single person who laid a hand on you," he said, each word deliberate, heavy, a promise carved in steel. "And I will make them pay. Slowly. Do you understand?"
Rose met his eyes for a moment, her chest tightening at the sheer fury in his voice. She knew he meant it. She also knew that nothing—no police, no enemy, not even death itself—would stop him once he decided vengeance was owed. That was the kind of man Nikolai was.
"I know," she murmured, tilting her head slightly. Then, in a desperate attempt to defuse the intensity pressing down on her, she added with a wry smirk, "You were always an overbearing bastard anyway. Why did you come for me?"
The question softened something in him. He sighed, long and deep, as if her words had reached into the core of the storm and stilled it, if only for a moment. His gaze shifted away, settling on the dull linoleum floor before returning to her with an honesty that startled her.
"I guess…" His lips pressed into a thin line before curving into something that wasn't quite a smile. "I missed you."
Rose blinked, her brows arching high. "You missed me?" The disbelief in her voice was thick, but so was the faint warmth that crept into her tone.
"Kind of," he said, his mouth twitching, betraying the awkwardness of the confession.
"Kind of?" She sat up slightly, wincing but unwilling to let him off the hook. "What are you trying to say, Nikolai? Are you bad with words, or…" her eyes glinted with mischief, "…are you actually shy?"
A sharp exhale left his nose, almost a scoff, but there was no real bite to it. He shook his head, one hand raking through his dark hair. "I'm just not… good with words," he admitted, low, almost begrudging. He straightened, pulling himself back into his armor. "Anyway. We'll be flying back to Manhattan as soon as you're strong enough to travel."
Her heart squeezed unexpectedly. He hadn't dodged the question completely—he'd let something slip through, something raw, something real. And then, just like that, he'd locked it away again.
"Thanks," she said softly, and the sincerity in her voice surprised even her. She hesitated, then asked, "For coming, I mean. Where's Alejandro?"
The moment cracked. Nikolai's jaw tightened, and he muttered under his breath, almost too low to hear, "Don't ruin the moment."
Her brows knit together. "What was that?"
"Nothing," he said quickly, clearing his throat and straightening his jacket like he could smooth away the slip.
Rose stared at him for a moment, tilting her head. "You're weird," she declared finally.
The corner of his mouth twitched again—she couldn't tell if it was amusement or irritation. Maybe both.
"Anyway," he said, his voice firm again, "I'll speak to the doctor. You can be discharged today. I'll arrange a private physician to monitor you. We'll leave for Manhattan as soon as you're medically cleared."
Rose opened her mouth to protest. "But my injuries aren't that bad. I feel fine—"
"By fine," Karen's voice cut in, sharp and matter-of-fact, "you mean you'll be in a wheelchair until further notice."
Both Rose and Nikolai turned to look at her, as if they had forgotten she was still in the room. She stood with her arms crossed, a wry smile on her lips.
"What?" Rose asked, her voice incredulous.
"Don't worry," Karen said, waving her hand. "It's not permanent. But let's be clear, honey—you got hit by a car, not a sponge."
Rose gawked. She opened her mouth, closed it, then looked at Nikolai as if hoping he'd argue on her behalf. He didn't. He was still staring at Karen.
"What did you say your name was again?" Nikolai asked slowly, his eyes narrowing.
"Me?" Karen pointed to herself, feigning innocence.
"No," Nikolai deadpanned, "the ghost behind you."
Rose rolled her eyes, sinking back against her pillows. "Typical Nikolai."
Karen's gaze flicked between them, then she smirked. "Please don't tell me this asshole is your boyfriend, dear."
Rose froze. Her lips parted, but no sound came out. She opened her mouth, then shut it again. Because what was she supposed to say? That he technically bought her? That half the time she wanted to strangle him, and the other half she couldn't stand the thought of losing him? That her heart ached in ways she couldn't name when he was near, and even more when he wasn't?
Nikolai's brows furrowed. "Who are you calling an asshole?"
Karen smiled sweetly. "The ghost behind you."
Christian groaned quietly from the corner, clearly used to his mother's sharp tongue. Rose sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.
"Karen," the redhead said, offering her name almost like a challenge. "Why do you ask?"
Nikolai's eyes narrowed further, his voice dipping into a mutter. "Ah. I knew that bald guy looked familiar."
Karen's brows furrowed. "Okay, what the hell are you on about?"
"You're Karen," Nikolai said, tilting his head slightly. "Sergei's ex, aren't you? If I remember right, you used to dye your hair pink."
Karen's mouth fell open slightly. She blinked, then narrowed her eyes at him. "Are you… Niko? That annoying kid Sergei picked up off the street? The one he wouldn't shut up about?"
Rose's head snapped toward Nikolai, her eyes widening.
"Yes," Nikolai said simply, unbothered. His lips curled faintly. "Though I'm not sure about the 'annoying' part."
Karen let out a sharp laugh. Nikolai turned his head to christian. "God. It is you." he glanced at Christian. "And that must make you Christian. Sergei almost became your stepfather."
Karen snorted, folding her arms. "Yeah. Almost. I like that word. Saves me the regret of ever having said yes. That man was an overbearing idiot, always acting like a woman should be grateful just to stand next to him." She shook her head, her disgust plain. "Enough about the past. I don't want to hear his name again." She looked at Nikolai, then back at Rose. "You can take it from here, right?"
"Yeah," Nikolai said quietly, his expression unreadable.
"Come on, Christian." Karen turned toward the door, her son obediently rising to follow. At the threshold, she paused and glanced back at Rose, her lips twitching. "Oh, and—if he ever hits you, stab him with a knife. Right below the ribs. Works like a charm." She winked, then swept out, leaving the room heavy with silence.
Rose exhaled a laugh, shaking her head. "Yeah, maybe I should stab you. Though, honestly, I wouldn't wait for you to hit me first."
Nikolai raised a brow, his mouth curving in the faintest shadow of a smirk. "Of course you wouldn't."