Lukas's POV
I opened my eyes.
Everything felt... heavy. Like I was swimming up through thick darkness, like the world had been muted, slowed, like I'd been sleeping for years.
The bright hospital lights above me burned my eyes. My throat was dry, raw. My body felt like it had been through a war—which I guess wasn't far from the truth.
I blinked again, slower this time. The heart monitor beeped beside me, too steady for the chaos I remembered. The rooftop. Her. The blood. The blade. Her scream.
Adeline.
Panic seized my chest, and I sat up suddenly—like a ghost dragged from the afterlife—gasping like I had just surfaced from deep underwater.
"Adeline," I rasped, throat aching.
Then I saw her.
Curled up in a small chair by the window, arms wrapped around her knees, her head resting on the armrest. Her long hair fell across her face, and her shoes were kicked off like she'd collapsed there without even thinking.
She looked… so small. Fragile. Yet she had carried the weight of the last few days on her shoulders—fought, bled, waited.
I swallowed hard.
"You'll get cramps, doll," I whispered hoarsely.
She didn't stir. Just a quiet breath in and out.
God, she looked tired. Her cheek was red, probably from resting against that chair for too long. I noticed the gauze on her wrist, a few faint bruises around her arm.
What did they do to you?
My fists clenched, and pain shot through my ribs—but I didn't care. I'd take a thousand stabs if it meant she never had to hurt again.
I reached out slowly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
"Doll," I murmured again, a little louder.
She stirred, groaned softly, blinking against the light. Her sleepy eyes met mine—dazed, confused—and then widened in disbelief.
"Lukas…?"
Her voice cracked, and I could see the tears before they fell.
"I'm here," I said. My voice broke too.
She stumbled out of the chair and almost fell over herself trying to reach me. Her arms wrapped around me, careful not to hurt me but close enough that I could feel every tremble in her body.
"I thought I lost you," she whispered against my chest.
"I came back to you," I whispered into her hair. "Always will."
And for a moment, nothing else mattered. Not the blood. Not the past. Not the nightmares.
Only her.
Only us.
She pulled away just enough to look at me—eyes glassy, lips trembling. And then… came the explosion.
"Are you insane!?" she snapped, her hands gripping my hospital gown like she was trying to shake the sense into me. "What were you thinking, Lukas?!"
I blinked, stunned by the sudden switch. "I—"
"You knelt. You knelt in front of him. What if he had stabbed you right then? What if I hadn't grabbed his arm in time when he took out the gun? What if—" Her voice cracked again as she stumbled through the words. "What if you never opened your eyes again? What the hell was I supposed to do then?!"
"I had to," I whispered, trying to reach for her hand. "It was you, Adeline. I'd do it a thousand times."
"That doesn't make it okay!" she shouted, wiping furiously at her tears with the back of her hand. "You think being reckless is some kind of love language? Do you know what it felt like watching you bleed like that? Do you even know what I went through while you were being operated on for hours, and I—"
Her voice broke again, and her knees gave out slightly. I caught her by the wrist.
"Hey, hey," I said gently. "Come here."
She slumped back onto the edge of the bed, burying her face in my chest. "You scared me more than I've ever been scared in my life, Lukas," she whispered. "You idiot. My idiot."
"I know," I said quietly, resting my chin atop her head. "I'm sorry. But if the only way to save you was to kneel, then I'd kneel to the devil himself."
She didn't say anything for a while. Just sat there, breathing me in like she was trying to memorize the fact that I was still alive.
And then she mumbled against my chest, "Next time you do something like that, I swear I'll beat you with your own shoe."
I chuckled, then winced. "Let's hold off on the violence until my stitches are out?"
She finally smiled—a real one this time.
"You're such an idiot," she whispered.
"And you love me anyway."
She looked up and nodded, eyes soft again. "Terrifyingly much."
I wrapped my arms around her, drawing her closer, holding her like she might slip away again if I loosened my grip even a little. Her warmth against me, her scent, her tears—it was overwhelming. And then I did what my heart had been begging me to do from the moment I saw her sitting on that cold hospital chair.
I leaned down and kissed her.
Soft at first, just a whisper of a touch, tasting the salt of her tears on her lips. She froze for a heartbeat, caught between shock and emotion, but then… she melted into me.
Her hands slid up into my hair, fingers trembling, gripping like I was the only thing anchoring her. And maybe I was. Because she was mine—and I was hers in ways I couldn't explain, in ways that terrified me and healed me all at once.
The kiss deepened—not rushed, not desperate, but aching. Like a silent apology for every scar we both carried. Like a promise that no matter how dark the world got, we'd find each other again and again.
Her lips moved against mine like they belonged there, like they knew the map of my pain, and I kissed her like I was trying to say all the things I had never dared to speak aloud.
When we finally pulled apart, we were breathless. Her forehead rested against mine, eyes closed, tears still clinging to her lashes.
"I thought I lost you," she whispered.
"You didn't," I murmured, brushing my thumb over her cheek. "You never will."
She opened her eyes, and I saw it—everything she'd tried to bury. Fear. Love. Rage. Devotion. All of it, burning just beneath the surface.
And for the first time in a long time, I didn't feel like a monster.
I felt loved.
She pulled back slightly, her brows furrowing in concern. "What?" she asked softly.
I let out a dramatic sigh, biting my lip to keep from laughing as I brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "Well… I have a request."
Her eyes searched mine, still laced with emotion. "Anything."
"Please…" I paused for effect, grinning as her face tilted in curiosity. "Please increase your height. It's getting really difficult for me to lean down and kiss you."
She blinked.
Then blinked again.
And smacked my chest.
"Lukas!" she hissed, her voice caught between a laugh and a gasp. "You jerk! I thought you were going to say something serious!"
I laughed, the sound rumbling from deep in my chest as she playfully shoved me away. "It is serious, doll. My back hurts. One more kiss and I might need another doctor."
"Oh my God," she muttered, covering her face with her hands. "You're insufferable."
"And yet," I leaned in again, whispering against her cheek, "you love me anyway."
She peeked at me through her fingers, cheeks red, lips twitching. "Unfortunately."
I pulled her back into my arms, wrapping her tightly against me. "Fortunately for me."
And just like that, the world outside didn't matter. Not the pain, not the enemies, not the chaos. Just her heartbeat against mine. Just this moment.
Just us.
She was still blushing from my teasing when I gently pulled her hand.
"Come here," I whispered, scooting to the side of the hospital bed.
Her eyes widened. "Lukas—your stitches—"
"I'm fine," I cut her off softly, pulling her closer. "Sleep with me. Otherwise, on that chair, you'll need another doctor."
She stared at me, caught between protesting and melting. "You just came out of surgery…"
"And you've been sitting there for hours like a statue. I can feel the guilt pouring off you." I tightened my grip on her wrist. "Just come here. Please."
With a hesitant breath, she climbed onto the bed and lay beside me. I wrapped my arm around her waist, her head resting gently on my chest.
For the first time in what felt like forever, everything slowed down.
"You're warm," she mumbled.
"You're mine," I murmured against her hair.
We didn't need many words after that. Her breathing softened. My heartbeat steadied. The storm had passed — for now — and in that fragile moment of peace, we held on to each other like lifelines.
Sleep came slowly, quietly, like a promise we'd both keep.
Together.