His for a year. - Chapter 55: Chapter 55

Back in Zade’s room, I threw my phone on the bed and sat for a while, staring into nothing.
It buzzed a few minutes later.
Zade: Are you okay? Need anything?
I smiled.
Me: No. I’m fine. Just waiting till evening so I can go to the hospital.
His reply came almost instantly.
Zade: Wait for me. I’ll take you.
I stared at the screen for a moment longer, my heart caught in a quiet place between stillness and longing.
I didn’t know what the rest of the day would bring. But for now, I was… surviving.
And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.
It was already evening when I heard the front door open. I didn’t have to guess who it was. The rhythm of his steps was becoming familiar, the way he always paused for a beat before walking into a room like he was taking a breath before being seen.
When I turned, there he was—Zade. His sleeves were rolled up to his forearms, the top buttons of his shirt undone, and his tie hung loosely around his neck. A few dark strands of his hair had fallen over his forehead, slightly damp with sweat, like he had rushed home.
He looked like he’d stepped out of one of those brooding mafia romance novels. The kind I used to roll my eyes at until I somehow found myself in something similar.
We locked eyes for a second longer than usual, a silent exchange floating between us.
“You’re back,” I said, my voice almost softer than I intended.
He nodded once. “I didn’t want to keep you waiting too long.”
“You look tired,” I said carefully. “Maybe… you should rest. I can go alone.”
His eyes stayed fixed on me as he removed his tie and tossed it onto the nearest chair. “I didn’t ask if I should go. I am going,” he said, voice calm but commanding.
Before I could protest again, he disappeared into the bathroom, then to his closet.
Minutes later, he emerged in loose black pants and a beige sweatshirt that made him look relaxed but somehow even more intimidating. He ran a hand through his hair, now freshly washed, the soft scent of his cologne floating around the hallway like warmth.
We arrived at the hospital after a long drive. After he parked, we stepped out and walked through the hospital’s quiet corridors. The air was cool and sterile, filled with soft beeping and distant murmurs. The closer we got to the VIP suite, the heavier my chest felt.
Inside the room, Aliyah was curled up on the couch in the corner, her arms tucked under her head. Jake sat next to her, eyes wide awake like he hadn’t blinked in hours.
As the door creaked open, Aliyah’s eyes opened instantly. She shot up and ran into my arms. I hugged her tightly, feeling how much smaller she still was, no matter how grown she tried to be.
“I’m scared,” she whispered against my shoulder. “All my thoughts are scary. I hate it.”
I held her tighter. “Whatever happens next, you’ll always have me. I promise. I’m going to protect you. And everything you’ve ever cared about.”
I pulled back to look her in the eye. “Do you want me to go home with you tonight?”
She shook her head stubbornly. “You have to stay. You need to be here.”
Jake gave me a reassuring nod. “I’ll always be with her.”
Zade stepped forward and gave Jake the driver’s number, then said a few quiet words to the guards posted outside the room. The security presence hadn’t gone unnoticed. Their hands rested on their holsters. I didn’t know what they were expecting, but it sent a chill through me.
We said our goodbyes, and she lingered for a second longer by the door, looking at Mom lying unconscious in the hospital bed, the machines that kept her breathing, wires that ran across her skin like a web.
I followed her eyes.
She didn’t look like a mother.
She looked like a stranger I once knew.
Zade placed a hand on the small of my back again as they walked out. It was warm. Silent comfort. No words necessary.
The room was quiet except for the soft hum of machines and the occasional clack of Zade’s laptop keys. He sat near the window, his screen illuminating the slight furrow in his brow as he worked through whatever important files needed his attention. He didn’t say much—but his presence was there, constant, steady. The kind of presence that didn’t need to fill silence to be known.
I was seated beside the hospital bed, staring at the ceiling like it held answers I’d missed in life. My mother’s chest rose and fell softly beneath the sheets. A part of me envied how peaceful she looked. Unbothered. Unaware. Just… still.
My arms were wrapped around my knees, chin resting on top, eyes burning from lack of sleep. Zade had told me at least five times to close my eyes. To rest. To “just try,” even for a little while. But I couldn’t.
“You okay?” he asked, finally breaking the silence.
I nodded, but it was a lie.
He waited a second, then said, “You don’t have to lie to me.”
His words were too soft and sincere. I hated how they made something in my chest ache.
I leaned my head back against the wall and whispered, “Aliyah said she’s scared… But I think I’m terrified.”
He didn’t respond right away, just reached over and carefully took my hand in his. I didn’t even know I needed that until I felt it.
Then he spoke, his voice low and firm, “I’m not leaving your side.”
I wanted to believe him. But I couldn’t shake the fear curling like smoke in my stomach.
“She hasn’t loved me in years,” I said slowly. “But it still hurts… watching her like that. Knowing she might not make it. And if she does…” I swallowed. “She might still hate me.”
He turned to me fully now, one knee bent on the couch so he was facing me. “Then we’ll deal with it,” he said. “Together.”
I nodded.
After a while he walked back to the cushion by the window and continued with his laptop.
I dozed off in tiny bursts, jolting awake each time with a guilty start like sleep was a crime and I was already the prime suspect. My body hurt. My heart hurt more.
At around 3 a.m., I stood and stretched, my joints crackling from stiffness. I dragged my fingers through my hair and turned toward the window—just for a breath.
That’s when the beeping started.
It wasn’t the regular rhythm I had grown used to. It was loud, fast and wrong.
Very wrong.
My heart dropped.
I spun around to the monitor—blinking violently as numbers flashed and the red line jerked on the screen like it was fighting for balance.
“No, no, no, Mom—” I rushed toward the bed, my fingers shaking as I slammed the emergency button on the wall beside her. “Somebody help!”
Zade’s chair screeched back behind me. “Doctor!” he shouted as he bolted out of the room.
I was alone with her for a moment.
The kind of moment that felt like the longest second of your life. The sound of the monitor pierced through me. Her body still, her eyes shut, her face pale under the flickering lights. My breathing quickened as the air around me tightened. I was going to be sick.
Then—
The door burst open.
Zade rushed in with the doctor and two nurses trailing behind him. But it was him—Zade—who reached me first.
His arms wrapped around me from behind, pulling me into his chest as the medical team flew into action. I didn’t resist. I couldn’t. My body gave up and leaned fully into him, shaking, unraveling.
“It’s okay. I’m here,” he whispered against my ear. “I’ve got you.”
His warmth calmed me. My fingers dug into his forearm like it was the only thing keeping me anchored. My head pressed against his chest and I could feel the solid rhythm of his heartbeat—steady, calm, everything I wasn’t.
The doctor worked swiftly, his voice low and clinical as he gave instructions. After what felt like years but couldn’t have been more than five minutes, the machine’s erratic beeping slowed and became stabilized.
He turned to us with a calm nod. “She’s okay now. Her vitals dropped for a moment, possibly from a reaction to the meds or the pressure around her chest tube, but we’ve corrected it. We’ll monitor her more closely now. It wasn’t a critical drop.”
My legs nearly gave out.
Zade turned me in his arms to face him, gently holding both sides of my face. “She’s okay,” he said softly, brushing my hair back. “You’re okay.”
But I wasn’t. Not even close.
Tears spilled down before I could stop them. The reality settled in—my mom almost died. Right in front of me. Again.
“I thought she was…” I choked. “I thought I lost her, Zade.”
He pulled me close again, one hand resting behind my head, cradling me against his chest as if shielding me from the world.
“I know,” he murmured. “But she’s still here. She’s fighting.”
I clutched his shirt in my fists, the adrenaline turning to exhaustion in waves. “What if it happens again and I’m not here? What if I don’t make it in time next time? What if—”
“There won’t be a next time like that,” he cut in firmly. “You’re not alone in this, Olive. You don’t have to hold everything together by yourself.”
The storm inside me slowly calmed under the strength of his voice.
We stood there for a while, surrounded by the soft sounds of machines and the lingering scent of antiseptic.
I didn’t know when I drifted off.
Maybe it was after Zade pulled me into him one last time. Maybe it was after the machines quieted and I let my guard down for just a second. All I knew was, the light outside the window was soft and gold when I blinked my eyes open.
The first sound I registered was the clicking of his keyboard—steady and rhythmic. The kind of sound you didn’t know you could miss until it became a sort of comfort.
I shifted slowly, brushing my tangled hair back and straightening where I had curled up on the couch. My neck hurt. My back ached. But nothing compared to the panic that returned the moment my eyes shot toward the hospital bed.
She was still breathing.
My mother lay there, unchanged. Pale. Still. But alive.
The tightness in my chest loosened just a little.
Zade looked up at the sound of me stirring. “Hey,” he said quietly, giving a small smile that barely masked the tiredness on his face. “You okay?”
But before I could answer, his phone buzzed on the table.
He picked it up and pressed it to his ear.
Then came a beat of silence.
“What?!”
His tone made my pulse spike. I sat up straighter, eyes locked on him.
Another pause.
“How the fuck did you let that happen?”
His voice was sharper now, almost venomous. I stood quickly, panic blooming in my chest. My heart had started sprinting without a reason yet.
“Just fucking shut up!” he snapped, then ended the call with a harsh swipe of his thumb. His phone dropped to the table as he ran a hand through his hair and another on his waist, pacing once.
He looked like he wanted to put a hole through the wall. His jaw clenched, his chest rising and falling like he was trying to control whatever storm had just been unleashed.
My throat went dry.
“Zade…” I called softly.
He didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled out his phone again and dialed.
“Yes,” he said. “All of them. Right now.”
And then he cut the call.
His steps were heavier as he walked toward me. He wasn’t angry—no, that would’ve been easier to brace for.
He looked… defeated. Haunted. Like something bigger than all of us just happened and he didn’t know how to shield us from it.
I stood still, trying to read the fear in his eyes before he even spoke.
“What happened?” I asked, my voice a whisper even though the room was dead silent.
Zade exhaled like the truth tasted sour on his tongue.
“This morning,” he began, each word slow, deliberate, “they found out… David escaped.”
My world spun. Literally.
My vision tilted slightly and I had to reach for the edge of the chair beside me.
“No…” I breathed.
“They don’t know how yet. Not fully. But…” He stopped himself, eyes flicking to my mother in the bed, then back to me. “They found two unconscious guards. He had help.”
My stomach dropped to my feet.
The walls suddenly felt like they were closing in on me.
“I—I don’t understand. How does someone like David—how—” I stopped, bile rising in my throat.
He stepped closer, his eyes searching mine. “That’s why I’m deploying extra security. Around your mom. Around Aliyah. Around you. You’re not walking alone anywhere, Olive. Do you understand me?”
I couldn’t breathe.
My brother—the same one who said he hated me, the one who once tried to kill me—is out there again. And this time, he’s angrier. More dangerous. And maybe more connected.