Foster’s given me back so much by simply being him and loving me. Now I need to take the last of it back myself and then run to him. Where I’ve always belonged.

“I’ll be okay,” I tell her. “I swear.”

“Miles is on his way.” Sage squeezes me again. “We’ll be in the lobby if you need anything.”

As she walks away, she checks on me twice over her shoulder before I return to the waiting nurse.

And I change my mind another half dozen times on the way.

Ultimately, I steel myself and walk with her into the ICU. The door latches behind me, and I can’t even try to regulate my pounding heart.

We pass a few rooms, walking along the line of glass walls with their blinds closed. Until we stop at one, and she slides the door open.

“I let the doctor know you’re here, and she’s on her way.”

The look she gives me then acts as a prompt for me to go inside. I mumble a, “Thank you,” before she walks away.

Once alone, I cast my eyes to the pink curtain, partly drawn for privacy. It takes a second for me to settle into my body enough to step over the threshold. My fingers flex, tightening into fists at my sides as I cross the room. Every breath comes shorter, but then I round the curtain and see the bed.

My hands unclench.

Daniel lies lifeless, the ventilator causing an unnatural rise and fall of his chest. His heart monitor beeps, and tape secures the tube down his throat. Another hangs from under the blankets, draining blood into a container below. Bruises, swelling, bandages—he’s unrecognizable.

It’s no question someone really wanted him dead. Then again, they gave that away when they hit him with a car and then took a baseball bat to him. Just in case, I suppose.

I’m guessing money was involved. Any rumor no one wants to believe is most likely what they should when it comes to Daniel. Personally, I can come up with a plethora of reasons someone might attack him outside a sleazy bar.

I watch him for a long minute. So weak, even though he upended my life. But the man underneath always has been—spineless, desperate, and cruel. All the power comes from the illusions and the false crown bestowed upon him because of them.

“Who holds the power now?” I ask from the end of the bed.

My head turns when someone walks into the room. The doctor offers a small smile on her way toward me, ID badges clipped to one of the pockets on her white coat.

“You must be Remington,” she says. “I’m Dr. Sullivan. We spoke on the phone earlier.”

“Remi.” I shake her outstretched hand. “Has anything changed?”

Her features soften even more, reassuring me nothing has since our conversation before I boarded my plane.