Cassian stood at the threshold of the hospital room, his back rigid, his gaze fixed on the still form of Seraphina lying in the bed. His fingers twitched at his sides, the weight of his emotions pressing against his chest as he peered through the window of the door.
She looked so small, so fragile, against the sterile white sheets. The soft beep of the heart monitor was the only sound in the room, a gentle reminder that she was still alive, still breathing. But it wasn't enough to quiet the storm inside him.
Her skin—normally vibrant and full of life—was now pale, marred by dark bruises that stretched across her face and arms. Wires and tubes snaked out from her body, connecting her to machines, and her once-beautiful hair lay in tangled clumps on the pillow, evidence of the hell she had endured.
A tight knot formed in his throat. Every bruise, every mark on her body felt like a wound he had suffered himself. The intensity of the hurt was suffocating, but he didn't allow it to show. He couldn't. Not yet.
With a deep breath, he straightened himself, brushing off the suffocating guilt and the emotions threatening to overwhelm him. He was Cassian Vale, heir to a powerful empire. He couldn't afford to let himself break, not in front of the people who worked for him, not in front of anyone.
He pushed open the door with a quiet, deliberate motion, the soft click of the door latch the only noise breaking the silence. The nurses who had been tending to her immediately noticed his presence, straightening up and moving aside as he entered. His reputation preceded him, and they knew better than to question the man who held so much influence over their hospital's funding and success.
"Mr. Vale," one of the nurses greeted him, her voice respectful but wary. She knew better than to stay in his presence for long.
Cassian didn't acknowledge her with more than a cold nod, his eyes never leaving Seraphina's still form. His mind was a haze of rage, confusion, and guilt, but he kept it locked away as best he could. When the nurses filed out, leaving him alone with her, he let out a quiet sigh.
The beeping of the heart monitor was oddly soothing, a steady rhythm that kept him grounded. She was alive. She was breathing.
He moved toward her, the chair by her bedside creaking under his weight as he sat down. His fingers hovered over her hand for a moment, trembling slightly before he took it gently in his own. Her skin was cold, but he could still feel the warmth of her pulse beneath his fingertips, and it brought him a sense of relief he couldn't put into words.
Cassian lowered his head slightly, pressing his lips softly to the back of her hand. The action was almost instinctive, a need to reassure himself that she was real, that she was still here. He held her hand there for a long moment, his thumb lightly stroking the back of her palm as the silence stretched on.
"I'm sorry," he whispered under his breath, his voice hoarse with emotion. He wasn't sure if she could hear him, but he had to say it. He had to make her know that he regretted everything—everything that had led her here.
The anger and pain swelled inside him again, but he pushed it down, burying it deep where it couldn't surface. He couldn't fall apart now. Not when she needed him to be strong.
The sound of her soft breathing filled the room, a reminder that she was still fighting. Still holding on.
For now, that was enough.
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The weight of the silence settled around him, suffocating yet comforting in its own way. Cassian leaned back slightly in the chair, unwilling to release her hand. His gaze traced the contours of her face, lingering on the bruises that marred her otherwise flawless skin. His chest tightened, a familiar wave of guilt crashing over him, but he fought against it.
He had to focus. She needed him now. More than ever.
The hours dragged by, his thoughts wandering, but always returning to the same place—her safety, her well-being. Her strength. Despite everything, she had managed to survive. He didn't know how, but she had. And for that, he was grateful.
He shifted in his chair, glancing at the machines surrounding her, the IVs and heart monitors that provided him with the comfort of knowing she was still holding on. Her breathing had become steadier, the violent tremors in her chest no longer as pronounced. But there was still an underlying tension, a quiet threat in the air that wouldn't leave him, no matter how much he willed it away.
Cassian gently ran his thumb over the back of Seraphina's hand once more, his lips pressed together in a thin line. His mind swirled with everything that had led up to this point—the phone call, the thugs, his father's cold threats. But most of all, he thought of her. Of her vulnerability, her resilience, and the way she had looked at him the last time they were together.
Her eyes had been full of life, of hope. But now, those eyes were hidden behind closed eyelids, and he couldn't help but wonder what would happen when she opened them again.
Would she still look at him the same way? Would she still trust him?
He didn't know.
But he was going to make sure she was safe. No matter what it took.
The door creaked open slightly, and Cassian's head snapped toward the sound, his hand instinctively tightening around hers. A nurse stepped inside, her eyes wary but respectful.
"Mr. Vale, is everything alright?" she asked softly, not wanting to disturb the fragile peace that had settled over the room.
Cassian nodded, his voice calm and collected despite the turbulence inside. "She's stable. For now."
The nurse glanced at the monitors before looking back at him. "She's still unconscious. The doctor said it may take a while before she wakes up. The damage done was significant, but we're monitoring her closely."
Cassian's jaw clenched, but he gave a brief nod. "I'll stay with her." His tone left no room for argument.
The nurse hesitated for only a moment before nodding. "Of course, Mr. Vale. I'll check on her periodically, but if anything changes, you'll be notified."
With that, she quietly left the room, leaving Cassian alone with Seraphina once more.
He leaned forward again, resting his forehead against the edge of the bed for a moment, his eyes closed, his breath shallow. The weight of the world felt like it was pressing down on him, threatening to crush him, but he couldn't let it. Not now. Not while she needed him.
He turned his gaze back to her, his fingers still wrapped gently around hers. His thumb traced the lines of her hand, a slow, almost comforting motion. He couldn't undo what had happened, couldn't change the events that led them here. But he would do everything in his power to make sure she never had to face something like this again.
"I'll protect you," he murmured under his breath, as though speaking the words aloud would somehow make them more real. "I won't let anything happen to you."
The faint sound of her breathing, steady but still fragile, was the only response. But for now, it was enough.