Chapter 3: Awake

Juan froze.

He stared at the message, the letters sitting quietly on the screen like they hadn’t just taken a piece of his chest and ripped it out.

He didn’t even realize his hand was shaking until he almost dropped the phone. He blinked once, then again, trying to clear his thoughts.

Someone had poisoned Arya’s drip. And whoever it was had just looked him in the face and slipped away like it was nothing.

He turned in a circle slowly, checking out everyone within proximity of the place but there was no one bearing semblance to the man that had just escaped from him.

Someone had watched and followed him from the fight to know where he was taking Arya too. Waited until she was vulnerable and alone. They had come with a plan. They had worn fake scrubs. They had waited for the right floor, the right time. And now they were gone.

He took one more look at the message.

She’ll die next time, and so will you.

Juan gritted his teeth, still holding the phone. Then he turned and started walking till he got back to to the entrance of the hospital, but he did not bother going inside.

He stood outside the hospital, staring at the space in front of him. His phone was in his hand, but he wasn’t looking at it. His fingers curled tighter around it, knuckles stiff. He should have pulled out his gun and killed the man instead of chasing him. He should have ended it. The man had been right there, cornered. All Juan had to do was lift the gun and shoot. But he didn’t because it was broad daylight.

Or perhaps, when Arya had gotten shot he should have killed this man instead of the other one he killed?

The faces were blurred in his head. He has killed someone who he thought pulled the trigger on Arya, but suddenly this man looked like the one who was actually responsible and now he had been sent here to finish the job.

He let out a long breath and wiped his hand down his face. His palm still smelled like the metal of his gun, like old sweat, like everything he wanted to forget.

"+*+*+*+*+*+*+

Juan hadn't left the hospital grounds in seventy two hours. Maybe more. He didn’t check the time anymore. The first few hours after they rushed Arya into surgery and he had returned from the fight and has his wound treated, he stayed just outside the emergency ward. After that, they moved her to intensive care, he got the news her drip was poisoned. She hadn’t opened her eyes since.

There were updates, but they all sounded the same. “She’s stable.” “We’re monitoring her.” “There’s no sign of infection.” But no one said what he wanted to hear.

That she was awake. That she was breathing on her own. That she was still Arya.

He hated hospitals. Everything was always too cold, too bright but despite the brightness, hospitals always found a way to be gloomy. People walked around with calm faces, but their silence always meant the worst things.

He has been tired of being in the same position for days, not eating anything. He had not even tasted a drop of water in several days. He did not use the elevator, but opted to walk down the stairs just to get his limbs moving.

When he finally got down, he leaned against the pillar near the entrance, looking down at his boots. The ground was dusty from the wind that blew through the open gate every now and then. He rubbed his chest with one hand and closed his eyes. He hadn’t slept. He couldn’t. Every time he tried, he saw blood. Arya’s blood. On her clothes, on the car seat, on his hands.

He heard footsteps, but he didn’t look up. He thought it might be one of the nurses again, or someone else trying to ask him to leave. Then his phone vibrated in his hand.

He glanced at the screen and answered quickly.

“Yeah,” he said, voice low and tired.

“It’s Hernandez,” the voice said. “One of the warehouses is getting hit.”

Juan lifted his head slowly. “Which one?”

“Borda Street,” Hernandez said. “The north side. I don’t know how they got in, but they came ready. We’re fighting them off, but we’re outnumbered.”

Juan didn’t respond right away. He pressed his fingers against his temple, feeling the headache push harder.

“Boss?”

“I hear you,” Juan said, eyes still on the hospital entrance. “I’ll call you back.”

He ended the call and dropped the phone in his pocket. He didn’t move. He just stood there, breathing slowly.

Go help the boys. Handle it. Fix it.

But what if she wakes up and I’m not there?

He couldn’t shake the thought. What if she opened her eyes, and the first person she looked for wasn’t him but still expected him to be there?

He turned around and walked up the steps slowly, not sure what he was even doing anymore. The door opened as he got close, and a nurse stepped out, holding a clipboard.

“Mr. Moreno?” she asked.

He nodded once. “Yeah.”

“She’s awake.”

He blinked. “What?”

The nurse gave a small smile. “She opened her eyes about five minutes ago. Her vitals are good. You can come see her.”

Juan didn’t say anything. He just followed her down the hallway. He passed the vending machine where he’d stood for hours without buying anything, the long white wall where he’d leaned his head, the bench where he had sat staring at nothing. Everything looked the same, but now it felt different.

The nurse opened the door for him, then stepped aside.

Arya was lying in bed, her head slightly turned to the window. Her eyes were open. She was awake.

He stepped in quietly, walking to her side. His throat felt tight.

“Hey,” he said softly.

Her eyes shifted to him, slow and tired. She blinked a few times, like it was still hard to stay awake, then gave a faint smile.

He sat on the edge of the chair beside the bed and held her hand gently. Her fingers were cold.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “This shouldn’t have happened. I should have handled things better. You were never supposed to get hurt.”

She didn’t say anything, but her eyes stayed on him. She blinked again and gave a small nod, the smile still on her face.

He stayed like that for a while, just holding her hand, watching her chest rise and fall, steady but slow. She was alive. That was all that mattered.

Eventually, she started to drift again. Her eyes closed little by little, and she slipped back into sleep.

He kissed the back of her hand, then stood. “I’ll be back,” he whispered.

He left the room quietly.

*+*+*+*+*+*+

Juan walked into the mansion, a maid shutting the door behind him. He has not been home in days and had only come back to make sure things were ready for when Arya would have been discharged.

He did not end up going to the warehouse, he just called some other men from another decision to help out and eventually, they overpowered his enemies. He walked into the living room, past the heavy double doors and dropped his phone on the coffee table and shrugged off his jacket. The living room was dim. The curtains were still drawn.

“Seriously?” Belle’s voice came from the couch.

He turned. “What?”

She stood up. “What do you mean ‘what’? You left me.”

He stared at her. “What are you talking about?”

“You left me in the middle of all that chaos. Arya got shot, yeah. I know. But I was right behind you, Juan. In the other fucking car.”

His mouth opened, but no words came out.

“You didn’t check on me,” she said, walking closer. “You didn’t ask if I was okay. You didn’t even call. I stayed in the car, yeah, but I was there. I saw everything.”

He looked down, pressing his lips together.

“I didn’t even know if you were alive,” she said, her voice lower now. “You just vanished. Everything was about her.”

He took a small step forward. “It wasn’t like that—”

“It was exactly like that,” she said, cutting him off. “And I’m not even mad about Arya. I’m mad because you didn’t even think of me. Not once.”

She grabbed her bag from the side table.

“You treat people like we’re just pieces on your board, Juan. I hope she wakes up and sees who you really are. I hope she realises how much of a fool she is for being with someone who allowed her to get shot."

"Belle—" he began, but she walked out the door without waiting for a reply.