Gemma woke up. She winced as she felt pain through her entire body, dull in some places, sharp in others. Her leg was in a cast, her ribs tightly wrapped. Every breath reminded her of the hell she'd survived.
She turned her head slowly.
Lucien sat in the corner of the room, one hand resting on his chin, his eyes locked on her like a hawk guarding treasure.
"You should be asleep," he said, his voice low and rough.
"I was," she murmured. "You're still here."
"I told you," he stood and approached her bedside, "I'm not leaving."
Gemma's eyes softened. She still didn't understand why he cared so much. She was just a stripper, a woman who danced under dim lights and drank cheap whiskey after midnight. But the way Lucien was looking at her she felt like she was more than that now. More than just anything.
Lucien sat beside her, brushing his fingers gently across the back of her hand. "I took care of Kol's men. The ones who hurt you... they begged before they died."
A flicker of darkness crossed Gemma's face. "Good," she whispered.
He studied her. She was changing. Hardened by pain, maybe. Or maybe just becoming who she truly was beneath the surface.
"Rest more. You need it."
Gemma's eyes drifted shut, comforted by the softness of his voice.
That night, the entire city felt Lucien's wrath.
Warehouse by warehouse, safehouse by safehouse, his men burned Kol's empire to the ground. Screams were heared throughout the night, and those screams sounded like music to Lucien's ears. Every traitor was executed. Every lieutenant wiped clean from the map.
He stood over the bloodied body of the last man, Kol's financial officer, a rat who tried to run.
"You knew what he did to her," Lucien said coldly.
"I...I was just handling money"
Lucien shot him in the head.
"Then die with your numbers," he muttered.
He turned and got into his black SUV.
"Everything's done," John said from the driver's seat.
Lucien lit a cigarette. "No. Now it starts, this is just the begining.
....
Three days later, Gemma was able to sit up for the first time. Dr. Vaughn helped adjust her pillows and checked her bandages.
"You're healing faster than expected," he said. "But don't rush it. Your body's still recovering."
"I've been through worse," she replied quietly.
Lucien, standing near the window, raised an eyebrow. "When?"
Gemma looked at him, something unreadable in her eyes. "Long story."
He didn't push. Not yet. He'd earned her body, but her past? That was another war to fight.
By the fifth day, Lucien was finally home for more than an hour. He sat beside Gemma, fed her soup she could barely taste, and watched her as she drifted between sleep and silence. The rage inside him had quieted... slightly.
But that peace didn't last.
John entered the room unannounced. His face was pale, tense.
"Boss," he said carefully, "we have a problem."
Lucien stood slowly. "What kind of problem?"
"Someone's been asking questions. Not about you.....about her."
Lucien's entire body stiffened. "Who?"
"Goes by the name Aleksei Volkov. Russian. No affiliation with Maximus or Kol. But he's dangerous. Word is, he's been waiting for a chance to take over something... or someone."
Lucien's jaw tightened.
Gemma stirred at the sound of her name. "What's going on?"
Lucien turned to her, his expression unreadable. "Nothing you need to worry about."
She didn't believe him, but she didn't have the strength to fight either.
As Lucien stepped into the hallway with John, his mind raced.
Aleksei Volkov. A name from a darker past. One Lucien thought had been buried in Siberian snow long ago.
"Keep eyes on him," Lucien ordered. "If he takes one step toward this city, I want to know before he even breathes its air."
"Yes, sir."
Lucien glanced back at the bedroom door.
He'd just finished one war.
Now, another was coming, and this time, the enemy wasn't sloppy or loud.
He was calculating. Precise.
And worse thing was.....
He was watching Gemma.