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“Jorden? Huh, there’s an idea,” he says, still grinning from ear to ear. “I never thought of her before, but maybe I will go see her. Since you’re letting me off for the night and she is Cora’s friend and all. I’ll go check on her and make sure she’s safe. Because I’m a very nice guy.”
Yasha is still talking to himself, his voice fading out, when I walk back through the automatic doors and into the hospital.
I turn every corner expecting someone else to show up. Hell, after the night we just had, maybe my father will make his final stand with whatever old guard lieutenants he could scrounge up. Maybe I’ll have to kill him to cement my place aspakhanof the Pushkin Bratva.
But no one shows up. I walk the quiet halls back to the waiting room.
It’s empty.
Panic grips me for a single second before a young nurse clears her throat behind me. I whip around, and the girl jolts. “Sorry, I—Your wife told me to tell you that she’s in Room 408.”
“Is Marcus St. Clair out of surgery?”
She nods. “I just wheeled him into the recovery room.”
“What’s his prognosis?”
She gives me a nervous shake of her head. “I’m sorry. That’s something you’d have to talk about with the doctor. I wasn’t in the operating room and I haven’t seen his charts. But you’re welcome to go in and see him for yourself.”
I want Marcus to pull through for Cora. So some piece of her old life—the life she lost—can come back to her. She deserves it.
As I approach Room 408, I hear voices. Laughter.
I knock on the door and find Cora standing next to her father’s hospital bed, smiling wider than I’ve seen in a long time.
She turns her smile to me and almost knocks me back on my ass. She’s so fucking beautiful.
“Oh, here he is!” Cora says. “Ivan is the one who called the ambulance and got you into surgery so fast.”
Marcus is still pale, but he’s cleaned-up and conscious. “You look a lot better than the last time I saw you,” I remark.
He turns to me slowly, his eyes heavy. “You saved my life.”
“Yeah, well, you bought enough time for me to get to the house and save Cora’s life. For that, I owe you mine. This was the least I could do.”
Cora fluffs his pillows and holds a cup of water to his lips so he can drink. She talks to him about nothing for half an hour until he drifts to sleep. Even when he’s snoring gently, though, Cora stands by his bedside, looking down at him.
“You should sit down,” I tell her. “You need to rest, too.”
She nods, but doesn’t budge. “I just can’t believe he made it.”
I grab her by the waist and pull her into my lap. “Believe it. You made it, too.”
“I wasn’t sure I’d get to talk to him again. I thought it was all over.”
“It’s not,” I whisper. “You can both talk tomorrow. So for now, rest.”
She curls against my chest. “Tomorrow. I like the sound of that.”
I hold her even tighter. “You have a lifetime of tomorrows, Cora.”
Her cheek curves as she smiles. “You’ll be there, too?”
I kiss her forehead. “Until the very end.”
68
CORA
