Page 172 of Dark Night of the Soul

I assumed he meant how long he was out. “I don’t know. Several hours.”

I’d lost track, honestly.

His voice was gruff when he spoke. “We didn’t finish.”

“That doesn’t matter,” I said, instantly dismissing it.

He didn’t argue. “Go rest.”

Still giving me orders. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Silence descended between us. Heavy. Loaded.

Then, “Good.”

That one word settled something in my chest that had been twisted tight for hours. Exhaustion pulled him under again.

But this time, I wasn’t afraid.

I stayed right where I was. Holding his hand. Counting his breaths. Calling him home.

Chapter 45 | Kincade

I came back to myself in pieces. Pain first. Deep, insistent, radiating from my abdomen like a warning flare. Hot. Burning. Every breath pulled at the stitches. Reminded me I’d come close.

I listened. The stillness of the room. Quiet. A distant voice but not hers. Someone else. Footsteps. Movement.

Faint light pressed through the gap in the curtains, someone having left them open an inch. Like whoever stood vigil forgot to close them.

She was no longer in the chair beside the bed. She was gone. And a part of me was glad because she looked like she hadn’t slept in weeks.

She probably hadn’t.

She needed rest more than I needed watching.

I had no concept of time. Didn’t know what day it was. Didn’t know how long I’d been in this bed. The light was wrong. Morning? Afternoon? How long had I been out?

It hurt too much to move.

But I could still think.

Staying here wasn’t an option. We were too close to the facility where everything had collapsed. Where our plan had fallen apart. Where the price of failure was paid for in blood.

And if they were smart—and I knew they were—they were already looking for us. Tracing movement. Watching for patterns. Following our trail until they found her.

That couldn’t happen. Not while I was still breathing.

Decker at the facility was no accident. He’d been waiting. Which meant they knew. Had always known. Whether he’d planned to kill her or capture her didn’t matter. What mattered was that I was going to find him. And when I did, he wouldn’t walk away.

The door creaked opened, followed by footsteps. Too heavy to be hers.

Ludwig appeared carrying a bottle of water and a handful of pills.

“Good, you’re awake.” He handed me both.

I eyed the pills with suspicion. Old habits. Even from people I trusted.

“It’s not poison,” he said. “Pain management and antibiotics. Standard post-op protocol. If you want to live, you’ll take them without complaint.”