My discharge papers have been signed. After seven full days in the hospital, I should be rushing out the door, but I’m not.

“Honey, are you sure?” Mom squeezes my shoulder as my wheelchair halts at the door of a private room. A private room I’m willing to bet anything is being paid for by my husband.

“I know you never liked Mags, but—”

Her grip stiffens. “It wasn’t that I didn’t like her, honey. It was that I didn’t want to take a chance that you’d be pulled down her path.”

I swallow at her words. How can I ever tell my mother that I’m standing at the end of a path that is infinitely more dangerous than the one Magnolia has taken? I’m the queen of a sinful empire, and I plan to spend the rest of my life beside its king.

I especially can’t tell her that Magnolia is totally responsible for putting me in that position, and that there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.

With the hand that’s not strapped to my side in a sling, I reach up and cover hers before looking up at her. “I love you, Mom. Thank you for everything.”

“I love you too, honey.”

“Now, I need a few minutes alone with Mags. I . . . I have a few things I have to say to her, and I need some space.”

She releases my shoulder and steps away. “Okay. I’ll be right outside, and Dad is getting everything else in order.”

The aide wheels me into the room and parks my chair beside Magnolia’s bed, then retreats, shutting the door behind her.

Magnolia’s dark hair is wrapped in gauze that covers her entire head. No one would tell me anything about her condition except that she’s being monitored and provided the best possible care. She hasn’t woken up, and they don’t know if she ever will.

I extend my free hand and clutch her limp one. “Magnolia Marie Maison, this is so like you.” I sniffle back tears. “Gotta cause all the drama to get the attention and leave the rest of us in suspense, wondering what’s going on.”

The beeping of the monitors is the only response to my poor attempt at humor.

I squeeze her fingers. “Mags, please. You have to wake up. You’re a fighter. You’re the toughest woman I know, and you will not let this beat you. Do you understand me? I refuse to let you give up.”

The beeping of the monitor stays steady, no indication at all that she hears a single word. But I know there’s research out there about people in comas being able to hear what’s said around them while they’re unconscious. I’m hoping like hell my best friend can hear me now, because if I don’t hold on to that belief, I’ll end up sobbing at her bedside.

That might happen anyway, though.

I lift Magnolia’s hand to my cheek. “Listen to me, woman. You are not leaving the world like this. You don’t go quietly. They’ll have to tear you off this earth kicking and screaming. Do you hear me? That’s who you are. Don’t you dare let me down. I need you to wake up. I have things to say to you, and I need to know that you can hear them.”

The answering silence triggers another torrent of tears.

“I know you did what you thought was right for me. That you always do what you think is right for me. I don’t care about your other motives, because you gave me a gift I can never repay. I should’ve thanked you when I had the chance.”

Her pulse beats through her wrist and her chest rises and falls, but that’s it.

“Mags, how are you going to tell me I told you so if you don’t freaking wake up so I can tell you this when you’re not unconscious?”

I drop my head, tears rolling down her palm now.

“I forgive you. I love you. Please, come back to me. The world would be a darker place without you in it. My world would be darker, and I know you don’t want that.”

I wait for long, silent moments, but she still doesn’t wake.

What did I really think was going to happen? That it would be like Sleeping Beauty and somehow my forgiveness would wake my best friend like the prince’s kiss? Obviously not.

“I love you, Mags.” I press a kiss into her palm and lower her hand to her side. “Come back to us. I promise you’ll get all of those sister-of-the-queen benefits.”

* * *

When we reach the exit, Mom is chattering about the awesome place she and my dad rented for the next few weeks, and how much I’m going to love it. Their rental car idles at the curb. My dad hops out as soon as he sees us, and reaches the sidewalk as another car pulls up behind him.

A black Mercedes-Maybach with blacked-out windows. I don’t need to see inside it, though, to know exactly who’s driving.

“Would you be more comfortable in the backseat or the front, honey?” Mom keeps talking, debating the question with my dad, not waiting for a response from me.

Which is good, because my attention is on the black car.

The driver’s door opens and V steps out. He glances at my parents, but they’re totally oblivious. When his attention returns to me, I nod, and we have a wordless conversation.

Yes, I’m ready to go home. Take me to him.

V returns my nod and comes toward me. As I rise from the wheelchair on unsteady legs, V is by my side in an instant.

My mom whips around, she and my dad finally realizing someone else has arrived. “Honey! What are you doing? Who is that man?”

V leads me toward the back door and opens it for me, but before I can get inside, my dad charges toward us. If he had a gun, I’m pretty sure the barrel would be pressing against V’s head right now.

“I don’t know what the hell you think you’re doing, but you get your goddamned hands off my daughter.”

“Honey? What’s going on? Do you need me to get security?” Fear resonates in my mom’s voice, just as strong as my dad’s threat hanging in the air.

I can’t blame them. They got a call in the middle of the night and found me hanging on to life by a thread. And yet I still can’t tell them the truth.

“Mom, Dad, this is my ride. My driver. I promise he won’t let anything happen to me. He’ll keep me safer than you ever knew was possible.”

My dad’s gaze narrows on V. “Where the hell was he when you took a bullet, if he’s so good at keeping you safe?”

My instinct is to plead with my dad not to argue with me right now, but instead, I straighten my spine as much as is possible with my healing injuries and face him.

“There are things I can’t tell you right now, Dad, but I will when I can.”

“I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all.” My mom’s fingers tangle together in front of her as she frets. “Honey, please, just come with us. Don’t get in that car.”

V clears his throat. “I’ll protect her with my life. I swear it to you.” His deep voice sounds rusty from disuse.

Silently, I freak out. You can freaking talk, V? Are you kidding me?

My eyebrows climb toward my hairline, but I hold back the questions begging to fall from my lips.

“Who are you? Who do you work for? Have I seen you before?” My dad’s jaw tenses, his hands clenched into fists.

V goes silent again, giving me the odd thought that hearing his voice is equivalent to spotting an albino leopard in the wild. Once in a lifetime.

I meet both of my parents’ panicked stares one at a time. “Dad, stand down. Mom, I love you both. I promise I’m fine. I’m going to be safe. I’ll be in touch very soon.”

“Keira—”

My name is gruff on my dad’s lips, and I interrupt him before he can launch into whatever lecture or scolding is coming.

“I’ll see you at the distillery tomorrow morning, Dad. I’d really like to have your expertise while I sort out what the hell our next steps are. Seven Sinners was about to step up to the next level, and I refuse to back down.”

My dad’s head jerks back. “Tomorrow morning? You swear?”

I nod. “Yes. I’ll be there. Maybe you should take Mom out to dinner tonight. She has to be missing real crawfish étouffée something fierce.”

My father studies me and then V. “I’ll expect some answers soon.”

I smile, feeling ridiculously regal, even in my sling. “You’ll get them when I’m ready. I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

V helps me into the back of the Maybach, and I’m thankful for the ridiculously comfortable interior. My parents stand motionless beside their car as V climbs into the driver’s seat and pulls the car away from the curb.

“So, when were you going to tell me you could actually talk? Don’t think I’m going to let this go.”

He glances up into the rearview mirror with a grunt. I laugh, the first happy sound to leave my lips in over a week.

I’m going home.