Chapter 3 - THE FIRST AID OF THE HEART
The medical team arrived with the precision of a SWAT unit,
their footsteps muffled by the thick,
plush rugs of the hallway.
Ethan stood up,
his height once again an intimidating wall between me and the rest of the world.
He watched them like a hawk,
his arms crossed,
his jaw set in a line so hard it looked like it was carved from granite.
They cleaned the wound,
the antiseptic stinging like a thousand needles,
but I barely felt it.
My senses were entirely focused on the man standing by the window,
his silhouette framed by the lightning that danced across the New York skyline.
Every time the doctor moved,
Ethan shifted,
a predatory instinct visible in the tension of his shoulders.
"It’s a clean cut,
Mr. Carter,"
the doctor said,
carefully wrapping a white bandage around my heel.
"She’ll need to stay off it for a few days,"
"but there’s no permanent damage."
Ethan didn't relax.
"Leave the supplies,"
he said,
his voice flat.
"I’ll handle the rest."
When they were gone,
the room felt even smaller than before,
crowded by the three years of unspoken words that sat between us.
He walked over to the bed,
looking down at the bandage,
then at the oversized cardigan I was clutching to my chest.
"Why didn't you ever ask for anything?"
he asked suddenly.
The question caught me off guard,
making me blink in the dim light.
"Ask for what?"
"Anything,"
he said,
gesturing to the room.
"Jewelry,"
"travel,"
"my time."
"You just lived here like a ghost,"
"drifting through the halls as if you were waiting for me to tell you it was okay to breathe."
I looked at my hands,
at the platinum band that felt like a shackle I had grown used to.
"I was the payment,
Ethan,"
I said softly.
"You bought my father’s life,"
"and my mother’s peace."
"I didn't think I was allowed to ask for anything more than that."
The lightning flashed again,
illuminating the pain that flickered across his face.
"Is that what you think this was?"
"A purchase?"
"It was an agreement,"
I reminded him.
"Debt,"
"Security,"
"Marriage."
"Those were the words you used."
He stepped closer,
until the scent of his cologne,
something expensive and cold like winter air,
filled my lungs.
"I used those words because I didn't have any others,"
he whispered.
"I used those words to bring you here,"
"where I thought you would be safe."
"Safe from what?"
I asked,
my heart hammering against my ribs.
He didn't answer,
instead,
he reached out and tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear.
His touch was a ghost of a caress,
so light I might have imagined it,
but the electricity it sent through my body was undeniably real.
"Go to sleep,
Elara,"
he said,
his voice dropping to a whisper.
May you like
"You’re staying in this room tonight."
"I'm not leaving you alone again."
