Someone needs to turn that shit off.

The repetitive beeping of what sounds like four out-of-sync alarm clocks seem quiet and far away, but gradually becomes so loud that it’s almost unbearable. I try to lift my hand and reach one of them, but it’s numb. It’s strange that one arm feels weighted down. I’m lying on my back, so it’s not like I fell asleep with my head resting on them. There’s a light on somewhere above me, piercing my eyelids, pushing me to open my eyes, but even that feels like a lot of work. It’s as if some invisible person is trying to wrench me awake, even though I only fell into a deep sleep only minutes ago.

Something about it causes my body to tense up. At that movement, I feel a sharp pain in my shoulder. Then I remember.

The attack. Thorne was hurt. There was so much blood. My shoulder.

The vision of all that blood hits me hard and I grip the bedsheets, pushing off the mattress with the other arm to try and sit up. But I can hardly lift my head off the pillow, let alone lift up my torso. Whatever is beeping turns into a screeching alert that makes my pulse jump.

“Oh my gosh,” I try to say the words as I force my eyes to open. “I have to get him some help.” My voice doesn’t sound like mine. It’s rough and slow, and it hurts to talk. My throat is so dry. But none of that matters if I can’t call someone for help. Remembering my phone, I reach down to where my jeans pocket should be and find a thin fabric. Why am I nude from the waist down? Panicking, the shot of adrenaline moving through me pushes back the cloud that’s masking my vision, and when I’m finally able to use my eyes again, I breathe. My eyes well up. He’s the first person I see.

“Thorne?” I croak through the tightness in my throat, ignoring the pain and discomfort.

“Welcome back, Little Red.” Thorne takes my hand and lowers his face to my cheek. He kisses me softly and whispers at my ear, “You gave me a scare. I hope you know I’ll have to punish you for that… but later.”

I smile and squeeze his hand. “Deal.”

“You need to rest,” he tells me, taking a seat on my bed. “Doctor’s orders. And try not to speak.”

“My throat… so dry.”

Thorne grabs the water on the tray beside the bed and slides his hand under my head, lifting my lips to the cup’s paper rim. My first gulp takes a while to go down, but it’s such a relief. I didn’t realize I could be that thirsty. I only stop drinking after he refills the cup the fourth time.

“Are you all right?” I ask.

He opens one side of his zippered sweater and shows me the bandaged areas around his chest and above one shoulder. “It fucking hurts, but the doctors say that I’m fine. The wound will heal over time. The bullets did a number on me, but these doctors are the best.”

“Thank God. You lost so much blood, I was so afraid you wouldn’t…,” I start to admit but stop myself.

“I’m right here. Nothing a few pints of O positive and experienced surgeons couldn’t fix.”

“Good.” I start to wonder how he’s up and moving around before I am. “How long have I been unconscious?”

“Four days. The doctor will explain, but there was a complication during the surgery. I don’t really understand, but they had a problem getting the bullet out. He should be here anytime now.”

“Where are we? A hospital?” I ask, looking around the sparsely furnished room. There’s one visitor’s chair, the monitoring equipment attached to me, fluorescent light above me, one door, and white walls. No windows.

“Something like that,” Thorne answers. “It’s a private trauma clinic… courtesy of the money I earned from my employer over the years. Former employer. You’re better off not knowing anything more than that.”

“With no windows?” For a second, I thought I was in jail.

He furrows his brows. “They’ve pulled out all the stops to keep the location unknown… even to patients.”

“That’s a bit extreme.”

“Wait until the orderly puts a black bag over our heads when it’s time to check out,” he adds.

“Wow.” The mention of eventually leaving this place brings on a slew of sobering questions. Is Grams still okay? If they found me, they could’ve found her out east too. Are there any more people after me? If it’s over now, will Thorne ride off into the sunset alone, or did he mean it when he said we’d protect each other for as long as it takes? Was what we shared as real for him as it was for me? I know that I meant it, but I don’t know what he’s thinking. This can very well be the end of the line for me and the only man to ever touch my heart.

I’m so overcome that I can’t think of what to ask first.

“You should try to get some rest.” His deep voice reassures me somehow. “I’ll find the doctor.”

“Wait,” I say pleadingly as he moves to stand, my hand gripping his with a desperation I didn’t think I had in me.

He runs his fingertips over the side of my cheek and smooths my hair back. “What’s up?”

I feel stupid. The words won’t come. All I want is the man in front of me, yet I can’t bring myself to find out what we are to each other. But I need to know.

The creak of the door swinging open pulls us from the intense moment, and Thorne leans back to look around.

A middle-aged female doctor walks in, followed by a male nurse. The nurse checks my vitals as the doctor fills me in on the unexpected hemorrhaging that took place while I was under the knife. “You’re stable now,” the doctor says, wrapping it up. “We’ll keep you for observation for another two or three days, but rest assured, you’re in good hands.”

“That’s a relief,” I answer.

“Be sure to rest up,” she orders as she turns to leave with the nurse. “Good night, Miss McClintock.”

It’s strangely cathartic hearing her say my real name. Maybe things will be different now. Maybe I’m finally going to be free of my past.

“That’s good news,” Thorne speaks up when we’re alone again. “Just a few more days and we can blow this joint.”

“Yes, that’s awesome,” I agree.

“So… what were you going to ask me just now?” He peers down at me, studying my face, waiting for me to speak.

“You… we… this… What I’m trying to say is—”

“You’re mine, Rose,” he whispers, cutting me off. “And I’m yours. That’s how it’s going to be. Don’t even think for one second that I’ll let someone like you get away.”

In an instant, his mouth is on mine as his hands cup my face. His kiss takes away all my questions, swallowing them up the same way he steals my breath. I grip the back of his sweater, pressing him to me with my good hand. My heart is so full because of this man. He’s unlocked a part of me I didn’t think existed. I feel the tears fall from my eyes, smearing both our faces. No matter where tomorrow takes us, no matter if we don’t have another minute together after this, he has changed me for the better and I can’t be more grateful than I am now.

He lifts from me and pulls out a folded piece of paper from his pocket. “The south pacific is great this time of year,” he says, and shows me the document.

It’s an itinerary for a week from now.

A flight.

And we’re both on it. Well, Lenny and Riley James are.

“Which one of us is Lenny, and who’s Riley?” I ask, trying to smile at our aliases. But my voice hitches. Tears flood my vision again. I swallow hard and blink through my tears.

“Doesn’t matter. I have to take care of a few things but after it’s done, we’re going away.”

“Together?”

He nods.

It’s exactly what I’ve always wanted. A partner. A lover. An equal. A man who can handle every aspect of the real me, and still comes back for more.

“We are,” he whispers, nodding. “Whatever comes next, we’ll face it together. Deal?”

I nod. I couldn’t ask for more.

Within a week of his release from the private clinic, Thorne uses every resource and calls in every favor at his disposal to make a clean break for us. He returned to his safe house in the woods. Not too far from the property, he found the decomposing body of the man who shot us. Thank goodness Thorne’s aim was dead on. That man’s death provides the means for Thorne and me to disappear. Torching the safe house, Thorne left behind enough of his and my DNA along with the attacker’s body to convince his employer that none of us survived the blaze. I asked him how. I wanted details, specifics. Stolen cadavers, organic hospital waste from both our surgeries, and bloody bandages aren’t enough for me. I want all of it, to strip apart every step from A to Z. But he reassures me that he did this stuff for a living. He made a lot of people disappear for his former employer and this one last time, he took every possible precaution, and he did it for us.

Soon, we’ll leave the country.

Nothing is foolproof, though. There will always be risks that threaten us. It will take time, but we’ll get there.

Together.