Chapter 30

The sharp smell of antiseptic still hung in the air, even after they cleaned up the blood.

I was still shaken, my hands refusing to stop trembling. Lingling had gone pale again, her eyes half-lidded and tired, but she was alive. Breathing. Speaking. Looking at me.

I was afraid to leave her side, even for a second.

The chair beside her bed was cold, uncomfortable, but I didn't care. I pulled it closer, resting my arms on the edge of the bed. She was quiet now, her chest rising and falling slowly. Her skin was clammy but no longer cold. That had terrified me the most—when her skin went cold.

I leaned forward and hesitated for a second, then let my head rest gently against her hip, careful not to touch the bandaged wound. My body was heavy, exhaustion seeping into my bones after the surgery and the trauma of the last twenty-four hours.

Lingling's fingers moved into my hair without a word, brushing through the strands slowly, rhythmically. She always did that when I was overwhelmed. It grounded me. Anchored me. Her hand was warm and steady, despite the pain she must have been in.

"I'm here," she whispered, voice hoarse. "You're safe."

I closed my eyes, pressing my cheek softly against her. "So are you," I murmured.

There was a pause. Just the soft beep of the heart monitor, the distant murmur of staff outside the room.

Her thumb traced the curve of my ear, and then my temple. Slow, reassuring strokes.

"You haven't slept," she said gently.

"I couldn't," I admitted.

"Sleep now. I'm not going anywhere."

She said it with such quiet certainty, like a promise etched in steel.

My eyes fluttered closed.

Her hand moved in my hair. Slow. Steady.

And for the first time in days, I let myself fall asleep—knowing she was still here.

Knowing she came back for me.

From Lingling's Perspective

The pain pulsed under my skin like a second heartbeat.

It burned in my side, sharp and hot, spreading through my ribs with every breath I dared to take. I kept my face still, jaw clenched, muscles tight beneath the hospital blanket—anything not to wake her. Orm's head was resting so softly against me, her hair draped across my stomach. She looked so peaceful like that, and so damn tired. The kind of exhaustion that only comes after too many nights of pretending to be okay.

She needed this rest more than anything.

So I breathed through it—short, shallow breaths—and kept my hand moving gently through her hair. Over and over again. It was the only thing keeping me anchored while my mind spun like a storm I couldn't quiet.

Sen Yui.

His face. The gun in his hand. The look in Orm's eyes when she saw that tattoo.

I had played out every version of how things might unfold when the truth came out—but I never planned for that. For him asking to take her. For the audacity of it, after what he did.

He would've taken her somewhere I couldn't follow. Somewhere she wouldn't be Orm anymore—but someone he could use. Manipulate. Claim.

My stomach twisted violently, and I swallowed the pain that rose with it.

She chose me.

Despite everything. Despite the truth exploding in her face like shrapnel, she stepped between us. For me.

And that meant Sen Yui wasn't going to stop now. Not until he had her or he was dead.

I stared up at the ceiling, fingers still tangled gently in her hair, brushing lightly along her scalp. She shifted slightly in her sleep, exhaling with a soft sound that almost made me cry.

I won't let anyone take you from me, I thought fiercely. I don't care who they are. Not even your father.

The pain flared again. I bit down on the inside of my cheek until I tasted copper.

I couldn't lose her.

Not now. Not ever.

I grit my teeth through another wave of pain, but still didn't move. Orm's breathing was deep, steady, the rhythm of it soothing against my side. Her fingers twitched now and then, lightly brushing my hospital gown, like even in sleep she was holding onto me.

God, I loved her.

She didn't even know how much. Not fully. Not the way I did—bone-deep, past all the blood and gunfire and cigarettes and guilt. I'd take ten bullets if it meant she could live without fear for the rest of her life. But that wasn't the life we had.

And Sen Yui... he made sure of that.

The way he looked at her. His daughter. Not a man seeing the child he raised, but a man sizing up something valuable. Property. A threat, maybe. Orm didn't even recognize the cold calculation behind his eyes—she saw the past, not the monster he became.

The fact that she had that moment, realizing who he was, while I stood there bleeding out... it was a cruelty I couldn't forgive. Not for her.

I shifted slightly, hissing low through my teeth as the pain lanced up my side again. Orm stirred—just a little—but then settled again. My hand froze over her hair until she was still.

Across the room, the door opened a crack.

Jiang.

He didn't say a word. Just leaned on the frame, watching silently. His expression was softer than usual—none of the rough edges he usually wore when we were in business mode.

For once, he looked like the kid I practically raised.

I gave him the smallest nod I could manage. He returned it, mouthing, rest, and quietly pulled the door shut again.

I sighed, eyes drifting to the ceiling again. I had one week, maybe two before Sen Yui moved again. We'd burned his hotel chain to the ground, took out his informants, exposed him in Hong Kong. But he'd want blood now.

No...

He'd want Orm.

And if he thought he could take her, even after she chose me, he had no idea how far I was willing to go.

I looked down at her again, heart aching.

I'll kill for you, Orm. I already have. But I'll burn the whole damn world if I have to keep you safe.

I lay there, swallowing the pain with every breath. The ache from the wound was nothing compared to the storm clawing through my chest. Orm shifted slightly in her sleep, cheek pressed gently against my side, breath warming through the fabric of my gown.

She didn't know the conversations I'd had behind her back. The deals I made. The people I buried. All for her.

I had tried to keep her out of this life.

I had tried.

But her blood tethered her to Sen Yui. And because of that, she would always be close to the fire.

I turned my face toward the window, the late afternoon sun barely reaching through the blinds. My fingers, weak but steady, slid through her hair again—careful not to wake her. Her soft strands curled around my fingers like silk. She trusted me enough to fall asleep like this, after everything she saw. After everything she knows now.

That meant something.

The door cracked again—this time Jiang entered without a sound, holding a tablet in one hand. His voice was low.

"Jie... we have eyes on two of Sen Yui's lieutenants. They're moving."

My jaw tightened. "How close?"

"Far enough not to act yet. But they're sniffing around the docks. Like they're waiting on something."

I nodded, slowly. "He's planning another shipment. Maybe another factory." I paused. "Maybe a trap."

"I figured." Jiang's eyes flicked to Orm. His voice softened. "You want me to move her somewhere safer?"

"No." My answer was instant. Fierce. "She stays with me."

"But—"

"She stays." My voice had that tone I rarely used with him. Final. Commanding.

He nodded, guilt flashing across his face. "Understood."

I looked back down at Orm. She hadn't stirred. Her cheek was still red and a little swollen where she'd been hit. My throat tightened again.

Jiang cleared his throat. "There's another thing..."

I raised an eyebrow.

"One of the men we caught outside the city yesterday said something... weird. Before he passed out. Said Sen Yui isn't just looking to regroup." He hesitated. "He's looking to take her back."

My eyes locked with his. "He'll die before that happens."

Jiang didn't argue. He just nodded again and stepped back. "I'll give you some time."

The door closed once more.

I looked down at Orm, brushing my fingers gently along the side of her jaw. She didn't flinch.

I whispered, barely audible, "I'll never let him touch you again."

The pain pulsed through my side like fire, but I didn't care.

She was safe now. And as long as I was breathing, I'd keep it that way.

Orm stirred against my side just slightly, her fingers curling around the fabric of my hospital gown like she was afraid I'd disappear if she let go. I stayed still—despite the growing sharpness in my side—swallowing the pain like I always did.

I'd had worse wounds. But this one hit differently.

Not because of the bullet.

Because she saw it happen.

Because she screamed.

Because she tried to bring me back with her own hands.

I looked down at her again, the lines of exhaustion still deep in her face. Her cheek was healing, but the faint bruise made my stomach twist. Every time I saw it, I saw him. Sen Yui. Her father. My enemy.

And that was the part I couldn't make sense of.

How do you love someone who shares blood with the person you've hated your entire life?

How do you keep her safe without destroying everything she's ever known?

The soft beeping from the monitor beside me matched my heartbeat—slower now, steadier than it had been hours ago. I ran my fingers gently through Orm's hair again. She shifted closer to me, breath warm against my skin. The weight of her there grounded me.

I could still hear Sen Yui's voice in my head—his gun aimed at my chest, the way he looked at her, like she was property. Like she was his to take back.

And Orm's voice, shaking, standing between us. Her hand on me.

She chose me.

That truth kept me breathing.

But it also terrified me.

Because now I had something more to lose.

A soft knock came from the door. Quiet. Careful. It opened just slightly—Jiang again. He didn't come in all the way. Just whispered, "Jie, our men are surrounding the lower west docks. You give the word, and it's gone by dawn."

I nodded once. "Hold them for now. I want confirmation it's his before we burn it."

He hesitated, glancing at Orm. "And... him?"

My voice was cold. "Keep him alive. I'm not done."

Jiang gave a tight nod and disappeared again.

The silence returned, save for the soft, rhythmic sound of Orm breathing. I leaned back against the pillow, eyes closed for a moment, trying to find calm in the firestorm. But I couldn't stop seeing that warehouse. The fear in her eyes. The sound of the gunshot. Her hands covered in my blood. My blood.

She would never forget that.

And neither would I.

But she was here.

And I was still alive.

And as long as I had breath in my body, I would burn the entire world before I let him get near her again.

Orm stirred again.

This time, it wasn't just a twitch or a breath drawn deeper than the last—it was a slow lift of her head, eyelids fluttering open, lashes brushing against my gown as she blinked up at me. Her fingers were still tangled in the fabric like a child clinging to a lifeline. I didn't move. I didn't speak. Just watched the way her gaze slowly sharpened, clearing from sleep, and then landed on me.

"Lingling," she whispered, voice cracked and dry.

"I'm here." My fingers found her hair again, brushing it back, slow and careful. "You're safe."

She pushed herself up—slow, too slow—and winced as her body reminded her that sleep didn't erase everything. Her hand went instinctively to her cheek. That bruise. I saw it in the dull light coming from the monitors. The angry purple was starting to yellow around the edges, but it was still there. Still real.

And every time I looked at it, I wanted to kill that man again and again.

Orm didn't say anything about the pain. She never did. She just touched the hem of the blanket around me, as if to reassure herself I was real. Then she straightened her back and stood up from the chair.

I almost stopped her. Almost told her to sit her ass back down.

But I knew her. Knew that look in her eye. She needed to do something. So I just watched.

She padded across the room barefoot, grabbed a fresh cloth, ran it under warm water from the sink, and brought it back to my side. She didn't ask. Just sat beside me and began dabbing gently at my neck, my shoulder, the line where sweat and blood had dried on my skin.

I hissed once—instinctive—but didn't stop her.

"I'm fine," I murmured.

She gave me a look. "You're not."

I let her clean the wound anyway.

Her fingers moved gently, precisely. She didn't speak much—just furrowed her brow when she hit a spot too raw or wiped away another trace of dried red. I could see her trying not to cry again. Holding it in. Like always.

The door creaked open behind her just as she started tucking the blanket tighter around me.

"Dr. Kornnaphat," came Priya's voice, gentle but firm. "You've got someone waiting. Says he's a patient of yours."

Orm turned slightly, not fully looking over her shoulder. "Tell them to wait."

Priya didn't budge. "They have. Over an hour now. I can bring them back in twenty minutes, if you need it."

Orm looked at me, torn.

I touched her wrist. "Go," I said. "I'm not going anywhere."

She hesitated. Just for a second. Then nodded once and rose. She leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to my temple. "I'll be back soon."

Her fingers lingered near mine, then slipped away as she followed Priya out.

I exhaled slowly, watching her go.

That bruise still hadn't faded.

And neither had the weight in my chest.

I didn't know who was waiting for her out there.

The moment the door clicked shut behind her, the quiet came back.

But it wasn't peace.

It was pressure.

A tight, coiled thing in my chest that hadn't let up since that warehouse. Since the scream that ripped from Orm's throat when the bullet hit me. Since the way her hands pressed down on my wound, shaking, soaked in red.

I stared at the ceiling of the VIP room—sterile white, too clean—and hated it. Hated lying here. Useless. Watching her walk away, even just down the hallway, made something primal rise in me.

I'd assigned four men to her. Not two. Four. They were supposed to be invisible, impenetrable shadows. And still—still—Sen Yui's men had gotten to her. Slipped past like smoke, snatched her off the street like it was nothing. I nearly tore the city in half to get her back.

And I did get her back.

But not before he left his mark on her.

That bruise. That trembling in her hand when she thought I wasn't watching.

I'd promised myself, years ago, I wouldn't let anyone get that close. Wouldn't let myself need something I couldn't protect.

And then Orm walked into my world—sharp-eyed and defiant, with a mouth that didn't know how to back down and a heart that didn't know how to quit. She wasn't supposed to mean anything. I'd gone to her clinic for a shot rib and left with something fractured in me I couldn't name.

The first time I touched her, it was by accident—her hand brushing mine as she checked the wound. She didn't flinch. Just looked up, curious, like she saw something no one else had ever dared to see in me.

I hated it.

I craved it.

And now?

Now she was mine. Not in the way Sen Yui thought people could be owned. But in the way two things become entangled and can't be undone without tearing something vital apart.

I shifted, pain flaring in my side. The bandages were tight, but the burn underneath throbbed like a heartbeat. I welcomed it. I deserved worse. For letting her be taken. For lying helpless as she fought to keep me breathing. For letting her see me that way—bleeding, broken, barely holding on.

She should never have had to carry that.

Orm was stronger than she knew. But I saw how she shook after it all. Saw the way she sat beside me now like if she let go, I'd vanish again.

I would never forgive myself if it happened again.

Never.

She shouldn't be walking the halls alone. Not even in her own clinic. Not while he was still out there.

Sen Yui knew. He knew. He'd looked at her like she was his property. Like she was a message to send. A piece on a board he thought he controlled.

He thought wrong.

I reached for the phone on the side table, wincing. Dialed Jiang.

He answered before the first ring ended. "Jie."

"She just left the room."

"I know," he said immediately. "She's got two men following her inside. Priya, too. But I'll double it. Quiet."

"Good."

I paused. The pain blurred the edges of my voice. I let it.

"And Jiang? If anyone lays a hand on her—"

"They won't." His voice was iron. "Not again."

I hung up.

Closed my eyes.

I could still feel her fingers on my skin. Still smell her hair when she leaned in close. Still see the fire in her amber eyes when she stood between me and her father's gun.

Orm chose me.

And I'd tear this city apart, brick by brick, before I let him take her back.