[BL] Bound to My Enemy: The Billionaire Who Took My Girl-Chapter 148: Deer caught in headlights

NOAH

The uncertainty was a physical weight, more suffocating than the blankets. I might never know what happened to me while I was unconscious. I might never know if my body was still mine.

And Maya. Where was she?

The thought of her brought a fresh wave of guilt. She had tried to help me, and I had led the monster straight to her.

I forced my eyes open. The light was blinding, reflecting off the white walls of Cassian’s bedroom. I squinted, shielding my eyes as I pushed myself up into a sitting position. The room spun violently, and I had to grip the headboard until the nausea receded.

I looked down at myself. I was still in my gala clothes, though my jacket was gone. My shirt had been rebuttoned... not perfectly, but enough to cover me. My belt was buckled, though it sat loose on my hips. Someone had dressed me. Someone had tried to restore some semblance of order.

On the nightstand sat a glass of water. I reached for it, my fingers trembling so much the water sloshed over the rim. I drank deeply, the cool liquid soothing my parched throat and washing away some of the chemical bitterness. It was the best thing I had ever tasted.

I needed to know what happened. I needed to see Cassian.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed. My feet hit the cold hardwood, and I pushed myself to stand. My legs nearly gave out instantly, my knees buckling. I grabbed the nightstand for balance, waiting for the gray spots in my vision to clear. I felt like I was wearing a suit made of lead.

One step. Then another. I moved like a ghost, shuffling toward the bedroom door. I reached the handle, took a shaky breath, and pulled it open.

The hallway felt miles long. From the living area, I could hear muffled voices. A low, familiar rumble... Cassian... and a higher, more animated voice that I couldn’t quite place.

I crept forward, using the wall for support. As I got closer, the words became clear.

"... completely insane, Cassian!" the voice cried. It was loud, theatrical, and strangely familiar. "You shot him five times! What were you thinking? Five is too little! Personally, I would have shot him ten times at least and made sure his dick is completely useless too."

"I was thinking about keeping him alive to torture him," Cassian’s voice replied. It was lower, calmer, but underscored with a lethal edge.

"Even though...why would you just let him go after five times... I’ve always had a feeling Alex was a creep but this? This is..."

I froze mid-step. The name hit me like a physical blow. Alex.

The name triggered a violent reaction in my body. Every muscle locked into place. My breath hitched, caught in a throat that had suddenly constricted. My heart began to gallop, a frantic, panicked rhythm that made my head swim. Alex’s hands. Alex’s smile. The pill.

I couldn’t move. I was paralyzed in the entrance of the hallway, a deer caught in the headlights of my own trauma.

As if on cue,

Cassian looked up.

Our eyes met across the room. The moment he saw me, his entire demeanor shifted. The cold, calculating man vanished, replaced by an expression of raw, immediate concern.

He stood up so abruptly his chair scraped harshly against the floor. He saw the terror in my eyes. He saw me shaking.

Then, the other person stood up.

It was Cyan. His pink hair was a shock of color against the neutral tones of the room. One of his arms was in a heavy white cast and a sling... the result of the accident. He looked battered, but very much alive.

Cyan’s face shifted from animated frustration to a look of profound, heart-wrenching tenderness. "Oh, darling," he whispered.

Despite the broken arm, Cyan crossed the room in a blur of motion. Before I could process it, he reached me and pulled me into a gentle, one-armed embrace. He tucked my head against his shoulder, his voice a soft, maternal coo.

"You sweet thing. I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry."

The genuine care in his voice broke something in me. I didn’t pull away. I leaned into him, letting his warmth and the smell of his perfume anchor me to the present. Cyan didn’t let go. He began to pet my hair, rubbing my back with his free hand.

"How are you feeling? Are you okay? Do you need anything? Water? Food? Medicine?" The questions poured out of him, not as demands, but as offerings of comfort.

Over Cyan’s shoulder, my eyes found Cassian again.

He hadn’t moved toward me. He was standing near the sofa, his shirt off. A medical practitioner... an older woman with gray hair and a professional, no-nonsense air... was working on him. I blinked, my vision finally clearing enough to see the extent of his injuries.

Cassian was covered in bandages. A thick wrap of white gauze was wound around his ribs on one side, and another smaller bandage covered his shoulder. Dark, angry bruises were blooming across his chest and jaw, and his knuckles were raw and scabbed over.

He looked like he had been through a war.

The woman continued to work, cleaning a cut on his side, but Cassian wasn’t looking at her. His eyes were locked on mine. He looked guilty... devastated, even. It was as if seeing me awake and shivering in Cyan’s arms was more painful than any of the wounds the medic was stitching.

But beneath the guilt, there was relief. A raw, jagged relief that made his shoulders drop. I was alive. I was there.

"You’ve been through so much," Cyan whispered, his voice a soothing balm. "But you’re safe now. You’re here with us. Nothing’s going to hurt you."

I looked at Cassian, and then back at Cyan. The room was full of morning light, and despite the pounding in my head and the gaps in my memory, a single truth settled over me.

The nightmare was over. I was back in the world of the living, surrounded by people who had bled to bring me home.