We take the wooden staircase to the ground floor.

Mr. Big is waiting for us at the entrance, and he pats my cheek. “Call if you need anything, and take care.”

Tears I’ve been holding until now, drip down my cheeks. “I’m scared,” I whisper, throwing my arms around him.

“He’ll be alright.”

Two hours later, I’m standing at the reception desk of St. Peppers City Hospital, asking for my husband—a word I’ve avoided like someone avoids cold showers in icy winters.

My legs shake as I follow the receptionist’s instructions and walk toward the waiting room, unsure what I’ll find.

The automatic glass door of the waiting area opens, but my steps halt at the sight of a large group of men all dressed in a similar fashion. Jeans. Leather jackets. Leather boots.

My head spins with the image of Lukas floating before me. The last time I saw him—on the day of our wedding—he was on his motorcycle, riding toward the inn. Dressed in a blue shirt, black jeans, and a chestnut leather jacket.

“Lukas Spencer.” A doctor and a nurse, both dressed in scrubs, stand beside me just inside the waiting room.

Everyone is out of their seats at once. “Yeah.”

A man in a wheelchair rolls forward from a corner. “I’m his friend and business partner. How is he?”

“No family?” The doctor jerks his head toward me. “And you are?”

“I’m his…w-wife. Autumn Spencer.”

There’s a shower of curses from the men in the room, until the nurse clears her throat. “Yes, I called you, Mrs. Spencer. You and Mr. Connor King are Mr. Spencer’s emergency contacts.”

The doctor doesn’t wait for any more introductions. “Mr. Spencer’s surgery was successful. He’ll be moved to a recovery room soon, and the nurses will take his family to see him.”

Once the hospital staff leaves, I’m again the center of the confused, curious, and guarded gazes.

My pulsing heartbeat skitters when the man in the wheelchair rolls forward and stops in front of me.

“I’m Connor King.” He offers me his hand, which unlike mine, isn’t freezing. “I… I don’t know what to say. You sure about Lukas Spencer?” He tilts his head toward the waiting room door.

I open my small handbag, and suddenly all the men go on alert.

“What?” I let go of a sigh. “Do I look like someone who’d carry a weapon?”

I don’t know how weapon-carrying people look, but I’m sure they don’t dress in white cashmere pullover and black jeans.

The grim lines of their lips disappear for a second as I hand my wedding certificate and Lukas’ dog tag to Connor.

“I’m in the right place,” I confirm.