Chapter 202
Chapter 202:
“I own the hospital wing,” Dallas reminded her, a faint, tired smirk touching his lips. “Let them have a heart attack. I’m staying p>
He kicked off his shoes and shrugged off his ruined dress shirt, revealing a dark undershirt beneath. Then he climbed carefully onto the narrow mattress, mindful of her IV lines and bruises, positioning himself along the outside edge of the bed — a living barrier between her and the door.
He wrapped his good arm around her waist and pulled her flush against his side. The bed was small, forcing an intimacy that felt not just necessary, but grounding.
“Close your eyes, Eliza,” he murmured, his hand moving slowly through her hair. “I’m right here. I’m the wall. Nothing gets past me p>
Eliza buried her face in his neck and breathed him in. The terror of the warehouse, the cold water, the gun — it all began to recede, pushed back by the warmth of his body.
𝖲а𝘷𝖾 у𝗼𝘂𝘳 𝖿аvоr𝗶𝘵𝗲 𝘯o𝘃𝗲l𝘴 о𝗇
“He said he has secrets,” she whispered, Anson’s parting threat still coiling in her mind. “About the past p>
“Anson lies,” Dallas said firmly, his chin resting on top of her head. “He tries to control the narrative. Don’t let him inside your head p>
“I love you,” she said — the words slipping out quietly in the dark, as natural as breathing.
Dallas kissed her temple. “I know. Now sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up p>
They fell asleep tangled together in the sterile room. Dallas slept lightly, one hand resting protectively over hers, his subconscious tuned to every footstep in the hall. He didn’t know that outside, the storm had passed — but a different kind of storm was already gathering, one that would walk through that door with the morning light.
Anson entered the room looking impeccable in a fresh suit, though his eyes were tired and bloodshot. The carefully constructed mask of the Hyde heir was slipping. He set a vase of white lilies on the table. “Your favorite p>
Eliza looked at the flowers. Their funereal scent filled the sterile air — a cloying reminder of a past she was trying to leave behind. “They were my favorite when I was twelve, Anson. I like roses now p>
Anson paused, his hand lingering on the vase. “People change. I forget that p>
“Thank you for helping Dallas last night,” Eliza began, keeping her tone polite. She needed to say it — to acknowledge the debt so she could set it down.
“I didn’t do it for him,” Anson said, settling into the chair Dallas had vacated. “I did it because I couldn’t lose you. Again p>
“You never lost me, Anson,” Eliza said, bitterness edging her voice. “You gave me away. To your mother. To Claudine. To your family’s expectations p>
“I saved you!” Anson snapped, his composure fracturing. He stood and began to pace the small room. “You think he’s the only one who ever saved you? Do you remember the fire? The fire at the guesthouse, when you were fourteen? Years after your parents were gone? Who do you think pulled you out of that attic p>