Chapter 15

"How is she doing, Ethan?" Victoria, Sophia's mother, asks.

Her voice trembles with genuine worry. I can hear the effort she’s making to hold back tears. The past few days have been hell, and I still can’t shake the image of Sophia lying lifeless in that wreckage.

"She woke up briefly yesterday before falling back asleep. The doctors say it’s normal for head trauma patients," I reassure her.

A relieved sigh escapes her lips. Victoria hasn’t been the same since William’s death. She’s been trying to mend things with Sophia, but now, Sophia wants nothing to do with her—or any of us.

"Will she recover fully?"

"The doctors are optimistic, but they can’t guarantee there won’t be complications."

That’s what terrifies me the most. All I want is for her to be okay.

"Don’t worry. Sophia’s strong. She’ll pull through. I’ll call when she wakes up again. Last time, she asked about Liam."

"Please keep me updated, Ethan. Make sure she gets the best care."

"I will."

I hang up and turn back to her. She looks peaceful, almost ethereal. How had I never noticed the delicate curve of her cheekbones, the way her dark lashes fan against her skin, or the soft pout of her lips?

Because you never let yourself see her. You were too busy resenting her.

The truth stings. I’d spent years shutting her out, refusing to acknowledge anything about her—until now. This version of Sophia demands to be seen.

I take her hand in mine, small and warm. I’ve been doing this a lot—tracing the pulse at her wrist, reminding myself she’s still here. That the explosion didn’t take her from us.

The memory of that Sunday still claws at my chest. I’d called her, furious, after Isabella came to me in tears, claiming Sophia had lashed out at her. Then—the deafening blast, the screams. My voice, raw with panic, shouting her name into the phone.

When the call came that her car had been bombed, something inside me shattered. It wasn’t just fear. It was something deeper, something I couldn’t name.

A knock pulls me from the memory.

Nathan and Isabella step in. Nathan looks wrecked—dark circles under his eyes, his usual polished demeanor gone. Even Isabella’s usual confidence is frayed.

"Has she woken up?" Nathan asks quietly.

The attack had shaken everyone. Nearly losing his sister had stripped him of his usual arrogance.

"No," I answer.

"You need to go home, Ethan," Isabella insists. "Shower. Change. You look like death."

"I’m not leaving her."

The thought of something happening while I’m gone makes my stomach twist.

"You’re no use to anyone like this," she argues. "Just go. We won’t leave her side."

Nathan nods. "I promise."

I glance at Sophia. Still asleep. No signs of waking soon. Maybe a quick shower wouldn’t hurt.

"Fine. But don’t let anyone near her."

If someone had targeted her once, they might try again.

Nathan’s gaze stays fixed on Sophia. Isabella studies me, her piercing blue eyes searching for something.

As I stand to leave, she catches my arm.

"She’ll be okay," she murmurs, pressing a kiss to my lips.

It’s the first time since we decided to try again that she’s kissed me like this. I’ve waited years for this moment—so why does it feel wrong?

Her lips don’t fit. The warmth isn’t there.

Shaking off the thought, I head home, shower in record time, and collapse onto the bed for what I swear will be a thirty-minute nap.

Three hours later, I bolt upright.

Shit.

A text from Nathan lights up my phone: She’s awake.

I’m out the door in seconds, breaking every speed limit to get back to the hospital.

When I arrive, Nathan and Isabella are sitting outside her room.

"I told you not to leave her," I snap.

"She kicked us out," Isabella says flatly.

"What?"

Sophia wouldn’t do that. Not even now.

"Exactly what I said. She told the nurse she didn’t want us there." Nathan’s voice is tight, masking something raw.

Then I hear it—her laugh, followed by a pained groan.

"Who’s with her?"

Isabella’s eyes lock onto mine. "Daniel. He showed up right after we were asked to leave."

My jaw clenches. That bastard.

Without another word, I shove the door open.

Daniel sits at her bedside, flipping through a stack of cards. Sophia is propped up slightly, bandages covering her temple, scratches marring her face—but she’s smiling.

Until she sees me.

"Get out," she orders, her voice icy.

"Not happening." I take the seat on her left.

Her glare could melt steel. What the hell happened between yesterday and now?

"I don’t want you here. Take them with you—I don’t need any of you."

She means Nathan and Isabella. Something must have gone down while I was gone.

"You need to calm down," Daniel cuts in, squeezing her hand.

The way she looks at him—soft, trusting—sends a surge of fury through me. Why does it bother me so much? I should be relieved she’s moved on.

Before I can dwell on it, the door opens.

Chief Harrison steps in.

Daniel releases her hand and stands. "Chief."

"Good to see you, Daniel." He claps him on the back before turning to us. "Miss Sterling, I need to ask you a few questions."

Sophia nods.

"Do you remember anything unusual before the attack?"

She frowns. "No. It was a normal day—breakfast, then church."

"What about the day before? Any strangers?"

She shakes her head, wincing as she adjusts.

"Do you have enemies? Someone who’d want you dead?"

"I keep to myself. I can’t think of anyone."

"You didn’t answer. Do you have enemies?"

Her fingers press to her temples. "People don’t like me. My family, for starters. But I doubt they’d go this far."

The chief scribbles something down. Something about his questions feels off.

"The bomb was planted while you were in church, triggered when you unlocked your car. Did you hear anything strange?"

"No. I was... distracted."

Guilt twists in my gut. Because of me. Because I’d called to scream at her.

"Why are you asking this?" I interject. "I thought this was tied to the gang shootings."

"Initially, yes. But after Sunday, we believe Miss Sterling was specifically targeted. We just don’t know by whom."

The room falls silent.

Someone wants her dead.

And I have no idea who.