I gripped his fingers in mine, squeezing. “I made it, Stephan. I’m fine. You saved me again, but you need to wake up now. You were hurt, but it’s nothing that you can’t survive. Please, wake up.” I got louder as I spoke, my voice rough with emotion.
He didn’t so much as twitch. I glanced at his heart rate monitor, but could make no sense of it. I glanced at the closest nurse. “Have his vitals improved?” I asked her.
She pursed her lips. “They haven’t altered.”
They let me linger for a few more minutes, and I murmured soothingly to Stephan. He never responded, never moved. I hadn’t really thought he would, but I felt a crushing disappointment as they wheeled me away from him. Some part of me had been arrogantly hoping that the sound of my voice, and the knowledge that I had survived, would be enough to rouse him. He had been my last thought as I’d blacked out, and my first thought on waking. Knowing him as I did, I had just assumed that seeing me fall had been like that for him. Perhaps it really was beyond his control. That thought defeated me more than anything.
I drifted off as they carted me back to my own room, and I knew by the floaty feeling that it was a drug induced sleep.
When I woke again, James was watching for it. He was speaking to me the instant my eyes blinked open groggily.
“He’s improved. Less than two hours after you spoke to him, he opened his eyes for the first time, and they tell me his vitals have finally begun to improve. The doctor went so far as to say that there is a good chance that he will pull through.”
“How long was I asleep for?”
“Only four hours. Stephan’s first word was your name. He was just as frantic to see you, though he was in no condition to pull his own IV out.”
There was a reprimand in his voice, and I could hardly blame him. I studied him, trying to see just how much he’d been damaged by it all, because I knew for a certainty that he had.
“You were right,” I told him, “I shouldn’t have gone back to the house.” I’d been so sure he was just overreacting, but somehow his instincts had been dead on. I’d never dreamed that my father could still get to me with so many people protecting me, but he had managed to beat all reasonable odds. “Are you furious with me?”
His face went a little slack, as though the question had caught him completely off guard. “The thought never even occurred. There’s no room left in me for fury. After thinking you were dead, then realizing that you would live, I’m only capable of relief. We may have to start going to church now.”
“Church?” I asked, perplexed.
“Yes. I prayed for a miracle, and you survived.”
I supposed that it was all rather miraculous, and I was more grateful for my life than I’d ever been after the ordeal, but I had more questions. “Was my father on something? He took so much damage, and still he kept coming.” I spoke slowly and carefully. Speaking would be rough for a while, and I knew that my words were hard to understand.
James nodded. “Yes. He was on several somethings. Some mix of crystal meth and bath salts. Your father ambushed Henry, then beat him to death with a large rock a few blocks from your house. He took his gun, and walked to your house. He jumped the fence in back and landed on Paterson, who shot him. He shot him back, a point blank shot to the chest. They said it killed Paterson almost instantly, partially because of the type of bullets in the gun, and the range of the shot.”
“Blake confronted him, and shot him again in the chest. They deduced that this made him drop his gun. He then picked up Paterson’s gun. This was a smaller gun, with lighter ammo, and what he shot all three of you with, which is most likely why you survived. Henry’s gun is the one that Stephan found and used to shoot your father in the head. Let’s just say that gun had more effect on a giant, drug-crazed man, especially since Stephan had such unerring aim. The bodyguards were trained to shoot for the heart, but Stephan went for a headshot.”
I nodded, thankful that he’d given me a full explanation, but devastated by all of the senseless loss. “Those poor men.”
James nodded gravely. “Yes, I know. So much went wrong. It’s hard to imagine that one man wreaked so much havoc when he was outnumbered like that, but they say the mix of drugs gave him a superhuman burst of strength. None of us considered that possibility, much to my everlasting regret.”
I squeezed his hand, which enveloped mine warmly. I searched his beautiful eyes, knowing that he felt a crushing guilt like I did. “I’m so sorry, James. If I’d had any ide—“
“Don’t,” he interrupted. He gentled his voice, and his eyes. “Please don’t. We can’t take anything back, just as we couldn’t have seen the future. All we can do is be thankful that it wasn’t worse. When I first set foot into that backyard, I was convinced that my worst nightmare had come to fruition. I’ll never stop being grateful that you survived that. We are unspeakably lucky that there weren’t more lives lost. All three of you were critical just days ago, and are now on the road to recovery.”
It was several days before Stephan was moved from the ICU, and we were both awake to see each other. We had a teary-eyed reunion, clutching hands and sobbing like babies.
“I was so afraid that you wouldn’t recover,” I gasped.
He gave a strangled half-laugh, half-sob. “You were afraid? I watched him shoot you in the head. I don’t think I’ll ever fully recover from the sight.”
I winced at the visual. “But you saved me.”
“Always, Buttercup,” he said, squeezing my hand hard. “Always.”
He continued, quickly switching to a lighter topic. “Would it be tacky for me to get engaged just over a week after you did?”