Chapter 8 - The Vigil
The private surgical wing on the ninth floor of New York-Presbyterian Hospital was under complete military lockdown.
Three dozen armed Vance Syndicate guards lined the corridors. No doctor, nurse, or administrator walked the hallways without being searched down to their shoes.
Inside the private recovery suite, the only sound was the steady, rhythmic beep of the heart monitor.
Emma lay in the wide medical bed, her right shoulder wrapped in heavy white bandages, an IV line feeding fluids into her arm. The bullet had missed her main artery by two millimeters, shattering her collarbone and lodging near her shoulder blade. The surgery had taken four hours.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, holding Emma’s left hand against her cheek, was Sophie. She refused to move, refused to sleep, and refused to eat unless she was sitting right beside Emma.
Standing by the window, staring out at the Manhattan skyline as the dawn sun broke over the East River, was Julian.
He had not washed the blood from his hands. He had not changed his ripped, ruined suit. He had stood by the foot of her bed for fourteen straight hours, an immovable sentinel guarding the woman who had laid down her life for his child.
Emma stirred. A soft groan escaped her lips as her eyes slowly opened, squinting against the bright morning light.
"Emma!" Sophie signed frantically, jumping up on her toes, her face illuminating with pure joy.
Julian moved instantly. In two massive strides, he was beside the bed, his tall frame looming over her.
Emma looked up at him. The terrifying monster from the vault was gone; in his place stood a man whose pale gray eyes were brimming with unshed tears, his jaw trembling with an emotion so powerful it threatened to consume him.
"You are awake," Julian whispered, his low voice raspy and broken.
"Unfortunately," Emma croaked out, a weak, small smile touching her dry lips. "Everything... hurts."
Sophie gently pressed a cup of water with a straw against Emma’s lips, letting her sip slowly.
Thank you for taking the bullet for me, Sophie signed, tears rolling down her cheeks. You are my hero.
Emma raised her left hand, gently wiping a tear from the child's face. You are worth every bullet in the world, little sparrow.
Julian reached out. His large, blood-stained hand gently wrapped around Emma’s left hand, his long fingers squeezing hers with an intense, possessive warmth.
"Why did you do it, Emma?" Julian asked, his voice shaking. "You could have run. You could have surrendered her. You owe us nothing."
Emma looked into his gray eyes, her voice steady despite the pain radiating through her body.
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"I didn't do it for an empire, Julian," Emma said softly. "I did it because I love her. And because... I couldn't bear the thought of a world where you had to live without your heart."
Julian froze. He closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against her hand, letting out a long, shuddering breath that shook his entire six-foot-four frame.
