4

Aurora

“Lift your arm for me, dear.”

Ester, Lucian’s family doctor, taps me gently on the shoulder and quickly draws me out of my spiraling thoughts. I’ve been replaying the crash over and over in my mind ever since I sat in Lucian’s warm jeep and it isn’t easy to think of anything else.

She taps my shoulder once more, and I drag my gaze from a spot on the wall to her kindly blue eyes, which twinkle with age and more experience than I could ever hope to gain in any field. Then I obey and lift my arm until pain twinges across my ribs, and I can’t lift it any further.

“Ow,” I murmur softly.

Ester nods and grips my wrist. “The bruising looks worse than it is. The seatbelt did its job, but I wouldn’t go playing volleyball any time soon.” She chuckles, and something about her mirth is so jarring.

How can she be so calm and sweet when I ran someone over? When someone—someone hugely important—could die because I glanced at my phone? Lowering my arm when she prompts me to, my hands land back in my lap and I close my eyes. Pain throbs through my skull, amplified by the deft stitching of the wound I received along my hairline from cracking my head into the car window.

It’s better than it should be. Ester’s skill is unparalleled and while I know very little about her, Lucian trusts her. I met her just once before, a few months ago when Selene fell ill with the flu, and Lucian was so worried he got her round-the-clock care. Ever the doting father. Now an accomplice.

“The man.” My throat pulls sharply when I speak and I open my eyes. “Is he going to be okay?”

Ester scribbles something onto the chart in her hand, her wrinkled lips pursing into a small O as she does so. Then her attention is on me, and she smiles that sickly sweet comforting smile once more.

I don’t deserve kindness.

Not after what I’ve done.

“My team is working on him now upstairs,” she says gently. “I won’t know all the details until I speak with them, but Lucian insisted I treat you first.”

That would warm me in any other situation.

“I do know, from my evaluation, that the majority of injuries are not consistent with being hit by your car.”

My heart stops. “What? How—how can that be?”

Ester shrugs once, causing her shawl to slip an inch down her shoulder. “Now, I want you to take these painkillers. Two every six hours because they are strong, but if you feel like they aren’t helping with the pain, just come and see me, okay?”

Her avoidance of my question is hard to follow as my mind reels with the revelation. Cassian was already hurt before I ran into him? Holding out my hand, I silently accept the painkillers Ester drops into them and her voice fades a little as my focus slips.

“Get some rest, my dear. Lucian is taking care of everything.” Her weathered old hand gently pats my cheek with the motherly affection I’ve craved since a child.

Then she’s gone, leaving me to the deafening silence of my bedroom broken only by the sluggish ticking of my bedside clock and the occasional rattle of the windows as the storm rages outside.

I didn’t cause Cassian’s worst injuries? The revelation doesn’t make sense. Every time I close my eyes, the thump of the jeep rings in my ears and all I see is his body lumped in the middle of the road, soaked with crimson.

Maybe Ester is lying to try and soothe my guilt.

Maybe Lucian ordered her to.

I can’t think of any reason why Cassian would be out there, already hurt. Did he murmur the name Lucian because he was looking for help or naming his attacker? Is that why Lucian was debating just leaving him in the snow?

They probably didn’t realize I could hear them over the dying wind, but I heard every word.

The pills slip past my lips and I swallow them dry, wincing as they cling to my throat all the way down. With my mind in turmoil and guilt still clinging heavily to my heart, sleep is impossible.

I need a distraction.

Slipping from my room, the guard outside my door merely gives me a concerned glance, but he doesn’t stop me from walking down the hall. The noise of the storm is almost completely muted within the hallway, and I sink my toes into the thick carpet with every step. My search for a distraction takes me right to Selene’s room. She’s already been put to bed but that doesn’t stop me from cracking open her door and peeking inside.

A glimpse of her asleep with her thick hair spread across the pillow and one arm flung wide is enough to calm my mind for a few minutes. She looks so peaceful. Oblivious to the real world around her.

I close my eyes, and Cassian’s body leaps to the forefront of my mind. The door handle cuts into my palm, and sweat slicks down my back, causing my T-shirt to cling uncomfortably to my skin.

Is this normal? I could ask anyone here, but I know there is no one that could give me a real answer. They’re all mafia, after all. I’m sure they’re more than used to death and pain.

Retreating from Selene’s room, I head to the kitchen. The dragging sensation of the pills lingers in my throat, so I head straight for the kettle. Making tea is more of a distraction than a desire for a hot drink, but I’ll take it.

With only one light on, sharp shadows dance across the kitchen walls and counters, cloaking me like a blanket. There’s a pristine white world just beyond the bay window as snow blankets the garden, muffling the sounds of everything. Only the strong winds mixing with a distant roll of thunder give any hint to the world beyond these walls.

A world where I didn’t hit Cassian and I made it to my mother’s meeting.

Fuck.

In all the commotion, I forgot about the reason I even looked at my phone. How am I going to explain all this? Will I have to speak to the police? That thought occurs to me as the kettle bubbles and boils. Lucian will likely keep the police away but to maintain my cover, it makes sense for me to ask for them. I’ll need to remember to do that the next time I see Lucian or Orion.

Suddenly, warmth bleeds across my back and the air around me grows close with a heated presence. Gasping, I spin on the spot and press back against the counter. I come face-to-face with Lucian. He stands so close that my rushed gasps for air press my chest against his solid torso. Even in the low light, his eyes gleam with a honeyed warmth and heat rolls off him in smothering waves.

Just like that, my mind is silent.

“You should be resting.” His voice is deep and low, scratching slightly from the late hour. He holds my gaze, unblinking and I swallow hard.

“I’m fine.” My answer trembles even as I straighten and tighten my jaw. “I needed tea.”

Lucian’s eyes dart up to my hairline, where a neat row of stitches throbs lightly in time to my heartbeat. His dark brows pull south for a fraction of a second then his gaze returns to me and I momentarily forget to breathe.

Now is not the time to dwell on how insanely attractive Lucian is, or how an ache grows in my arms fueled by the desire to sink against Lucian’s broad chest and soak in his warmth like it’s mine to have.

“That man,” I say, forcing my mind back on track. “Shouldn’t we be taking him to a hospital? He looked like he needed one.”

The subtle gentleness in Lucian’s face vanishes and he snaps his tongue lightly behind his teeth. “There wouldn’t have been time,” he replies, his voice rumbling in the narrow gap between us. “He is getting the treatment he needs here and he will be fine. But, if things take a turn then…possibly.”

“You’re going to help him, right?” There’s no way he can’t. Mafia laws or not, they surely can’t just let him die. “Ester, she told me that he had other injuries that weren’t from me. You’re going to help him, right? It’s the decent thing to do and I—I don’t want to be responsible…”

“You are responsible,” Lucian says and his words jar me.

He speaks the truth I know, but it’s still strange to hear my own thoughts spoken aloud by my boss.

“But what happened was an accident. Anything beyond that has nothing to do with you.” Lucian’s tongue darts out slightly, grazing over his lower lip. “If you were so desperate to get him to a hospital, why didn’t you call the police instead of me?”

A glint to my left draws my attention. Lucian holds up my phone. It hadn’t even crossed my mind that I’d lost it in the snow. I don’t even remember putting it down.

“Or,” Lucian rumbles softly. “Why did you call them, then change your mind?”

Shit.

He remains standing so close that we’re sharing the same air, and keeping my jumbled thoughts in order is immensely difficult. I can’t tell him the truth. If he found out that I made that decision based on my Bratva knowledge and the consequences of having the cops sniffing around, then it would open a whole can of worms I couldn’t deal with.

My lie hangs by a thread, waiting for my sluggish thoughts to catch up.

“I was scared,” I admit, and the truth within the lie makes things much easier. “I-I thought…I thought I’d killed him. That I’d killed that man while driving a car that didn’t belong to me. And I took my eyes off the road for a split second, a split second and he just—” Tears start at the corner of my eyes as the thump plays in my ears once more. “So I…I know you’re a private man, and I didn’t want you to get into trouble, and since you say you work as a fixer for important people, I-I thought that you would help me. Fix this. I didn’t want to face the cops because then it would be real and I would be a—I can’t afford to go to prison.”

Lucian’s eyes slowly dart back and forth between mine. He’s studying me; I can feel it. With one look, he’s peering into my soul, and I have no idea what he’s looking for. The real emotion in my voice is the only hope I have of him buying the lie, and it’s easy to pretend I was desperate and panicked because that part is the truth.

My phone tilts down in his hand, and it’s not until the corner of his mouth twitches that I realize he’s handing it to me.

“Your mother has been calling non-stop.”

Does this mean he believes me?

He swallows and the floral tattoos around his throat ripple like a real wind is ruffling through their petals. Then Lucian leans closer. His large, broad hand cups my cheek and his dry, soft lips press against my forehead in the briefest of kisses.

My heart skips a beat and everything around me freezes. Even the distant tick of the wall clock slows down while Lucian’s lips linger against my skin.

This isn’t real.

It can’t be.

I must have an intense concussion and I’m hallucinating because there is no way Lucian is touching me, kissing me.

As soon as it starts, it’s over and Lucian steps away from me completely. My lungs fill with cool, crisp air as he leaves my orbit and weakness throbs through my knees. Clutching my phone to my chest, I can barely think past the lingering spot of warmth on the middle of my forehead.

“You did the right thing,” Lucian says, sliding one hand into the pocket of his slacks. “And you are not to blame. Not for any of this.”

My lips part but words fail me. I’m like a broken record, stuck and unable to move past the unexpected affection.

“Now,” Lucian says, his lips twitching as he drags one hand through his thick hair. “Let Orion take care of you.”

It’s only when Lucian steps to the side that I spot Orion standing in the kitchen doorway, illuminated by the light from the hallway. Was he standing there, watching, the entire time? Even in the dark, his glasses glint when he tilts his head and my heart skips into my throat.

Take care of me how?