CHAPTER 149: DELIRIUM

–Damon–

She was unconscious, and I was running beside the gurney, clutching her hand as if I could anchor her to me, as if my grip alone could keep her alive. The doctor straddling her was already applying first aid, barking orders I couldn’t comprehend. They stopped me halfway to the operating room, forcing my hand to slip away from hers.

A nurse intercepted me, her lips moving. Treated... treatment... Was she saying I needed to be treated? I didn’t feel anything except the thunder of my own heartbeat.

"Sir," one of my men caught my arm, his voice urgent, almost pleading. "You need to get treated!"

I looked around, dazed, barely registering the nurse still at my side, or the doctor reaching toward me.

"Damon!" My brother’s voice cut through the haze. He strode toward me, his face grim. "Damn it, get treated. I’ll wait here for Liva."

He pushed me gently but firmly away from the door to the operating room, and I let him, though my eyes clung to that door like it was the only thing tethering me to this world.

They tended to my wounds against my will. I refused the CT scan, the X-ray—pointless distractions when the only thing that mattered was beyond that door. So I waited. I sat outside, my body patched up, but my soul unraveling.

The doctor finally emerged, peeling off gloves, his expression unreadable. He approached me, and every second of silence clawed at me.

"Mrs. Blackwell is currently stable," he began, his tone measured, clinical. "The cranial impact was considerable, but imaging ruled out an epidural hematoma. There was, however, a focal intracranial bleed, which we were able to control surgically before it could elevate her intracranial pressure. Hemostasis has been achieved, and at this point, there are no signs of midline shift or herniation."

Relief tore through me, violent and fragile. Stable. She was stable. But I knew—God, I knew—that didn’t mean safe.

The doctor’s gaze shifted to me. "And as for you, Mr. Blackwell—you need to lie down."

"I need to see my wife." My voice was raw, jagged, almost unrecognizable.

"We’ll be transferring her to the VIP suite, which is also equipped as an intensive care unit. A bed will be prepared for you there as well." He turned to call a nurse, but David reached me first.

"Man, you need to get treated," he muttered, half-exasperated, half-worried.

The dizziness hit me then, like a wave breaking. Pain flared—the pain I had been too numb to feel, now crashing through as the relief bled in. Maybe my body had been waiting, holding back until it knew she wasn’t teetering on death’s edge.

I stumbled into the VIP suite. Machines hummed softly, sterile and menacing, their lights blinking in rhythm with my dread. They laid her in the bed, connecting wires, tubes, and monitors. Another bed waited near hers, separated by space for all the apparatus, but it may as well have been a chasm.

I stared at her. Her pale face. The bruises staining her skin. It broke me—split me wide open until there was nothing left but agony.

"Liva," I whispered, my voice trembling, though she lay unmoving, unconscious, far away from me.

My world began to tilt, to spin, shadows creeping in at the edges. Darkness pressed close.

"Damon!" I heard David’s shout and felt his arms catch me as my knees buckled. But the last thing I saw—the only thing I held onto—was her, still unmoving, still lost to me.

–Damien–

Laura. She’s trembling, tears pouring down her cheeks. I’ve never seen her so terrified. I kept telling her to breathe, again and again, but her hands were freezing up, her chest rising too fast—she was hyperventilating. I pulled her into my arms, whispering for her to calm down, but it was as if my voice couldn’t reach her. I rubbed her shoulders, massaged her palms, trying anything to ground her.

"Laura," I called softly, lowering my tone so she would hear me. "Babe... hey, look at me."

Her hiccups shook her frame as I cupped her face.

"Laura!" Aunt Amiliee’s worried voice cut in.

But Laura only clung tighter to me, sobbing into my chest. Alyssa quickly switched on her handheld fan, aiming it at Laura’s face to help her breathe.

By the time we reached the hospital, I had her wrapped tightly against me, refusing to let her falter. The VIP room was large, easily fit for ten people, yet heavy with tension. Caine and Deanne stayed outside, both on their phones—likely already digging into the incident.

Inside, chaos greeted us. David’s frantic shout for a nurse rang in the air. My eyes fell instantly on Damon, sprawled on the floor. David had his arms around him, steadying his head and neck.

"Mom!" David barked, and she rushed out, returning with two nurses who hurried to Damon’s side. We stepped away, guiding Laura to Livana. My wife broke down in front of her sister, crying so hard I knew Damon had slipped from her mind entirely. I wanted to run to him, but Laura needed me more.

From the way the nurses handled him, I knew they’d be taking Damon out for further tests. That stubborn man—he’d probably refused treatment earlier, too obsessed with ensuring Livana was safe after her operation. Typical Damon.

I pulled out a chair for Laura, easing her down. Taking tissues, I wiped her face, brushing away her tears and even her sniffling mess.

"Hey," I whispered, steady and low. "Calm down. I’ve got you."

Soon, Livana’s grandparents and father arrived. Grandma Olivia and Grandma Belinda were trembling, their tears falling freely. Laura’s father rushed to her, wrapping her in his arms. She clung to him desperately, and I finally let out the breath I’d been holding.

I couldn’t leave her side. Not when she still held on like this. Still, part of me itched to step out, to handle the mess unraveling outside.

Dad Gregory came close, patting my back. "I’m going to speak with our men," he said firmly, then left with Grandpa Edward and Reagan. I knew they’d be digging into whoever caused this.

I squatted down in front of Laura again, tissues in hand, dabbing gently at her face. Then I went to the fridge, grabbed a bottle of water, and twisted the cap open. Just to be sure, I sipped first—no risks tonight. Satisfied, I handed it to her. She drank like she hadn’t tasted water in days.

"Slow down," I murmured, resting my hand over hers on the bottle.

An hour later, Damon was wheeled back in and transferred onto another bed. Nurses fussed with machines and IV lines until finally stepping aside. Aunt Amiliee and Alyssa rushed to his side, their relief visible as they checked on him.

I led Laura to the nearest sofa and eased her down beside me.

"Where’s my phone?" she asked suddenly, voice still trembling.

I pulled it from my pocket and handed it over. Her fingers shook as she dialed, pressing the phone close.

"Hello?" her voice cracked into the receiver. "Find the bastard who hit Damon and Livana’s car. The road is dark—the only road leading to the Blackwell compound."

I studied her, her strength even through her fear. My chest tightened at how relentless she was, how different she and Livana thought, always two steps ahead.

When she ended the call, I wrapped her against me, kissing her damp forehead.

"You’re safe," I whispered against her hair. "I won’t let go."

We stayed longer. I could already tell—Laura wasn’t leaving this hospital tonight. No one could drag her away. After what felt like another thirty minutes, Jane arrived, and to my surprise, Kai, Sophia, and Logan came with her. They were likely here for the same reason—the hunt for the bastard responsible.

Laura’s phone rang, sharp in the silence. She answered immediately.

"Yes?" Her voice was firm, though her body still trembled. I couldn’t make out the words on the other end, but I could tell by her expression—it was serious. "Okay, hold on."

Her fingers flew as she dialed another number. "Sophia, I’ll connect you. Track those assholes." Her tone was sharp, decisive. Watching her work reminded me so much of Livana—relentless, unyielding when it came to protecting family.

After a tense few minutes, she finally hung up. I caught her gaze and offered a small smile, one meant to steady her.

"Aly, go home with your brother," Aunt Amiliee said gently.

Alyssa pouted, reluctant. "But—"

"I’ll take care of your brother and your sister. You can visit tomorrow," Amiliee reassured her.

Alyssa crossed to us, wrapping her arms tightly around Laura before hugging me as well. I bent slightly, pressing her close, then let her go. She lingered a moment, glancing between Livana and Damon with quiet worry, before finally leaving with David.

Jane moved with quiet efficiency, rolling her luggage in. She opened it and began pulling things out—pillows, a cozy blanket, Laura’s pajamas, and other small comforts. She neatly arranged them in the wardrobe, the kind of foresight we all needed right now.

I pulled the sofa bed out, setting it up into a twin. Pillows, blanket, everything ready for Laura. Then I helped her up and guided her to the bathroom. I stayed with her, steadying her arm, waiting while she freshened up. When she was done, I quickly changed as well, wanting her to feel like she wasn’t alone in this.

We lay down together, and I held her until her breathing softened into sleep. Only then did I slip out quietly. My eyes shifted toward Damon—he needed real rest, not just stubborn endurance. I made a note to check on him later.

Outside, I expected only Caine and Deanne, but Livana’s grandparents were there too. Grandpa Reagan had already urged them to stay at a nearby hotel, but of course, they refused. Stubbornness ran deep in this family.

I sighed, bracing myself, then walked over to Caine.

"I need to show you something," he whispered.

I nodded, following him into the shadows of the corridor, my chest heavy with questions I wasn’t sure I wanted answered.