The rain tapped against the double-paned glass of Room 412.

The white ceiling of St. Catherine’s Medical Center hummed with a low, constant vibration.

I could barely move my fingers, my body heavy from the sedatives they had given me.

The cardiac monitor beside my bed beeped at a steady, clinical pace.

Through the heavy oak door, I heard the rapid strike of leather shoes on the tile hallway.

Luke Mercer burst into the room, his dark hair damp from the storm outside.

He looked pale, his grey eyes scanning the stark room until they locked onto mine.

“Elena,” he whispered.

He crossed the linoleum floor in three long strides.

He fell to his knees beside the bed, his cold hand gripping my fingers.

“Don’t let her speak just yet,” a calm voice interrupted from the doorway.

Dr. Avery Bennett walked in, holding a silver digital tablet against her white coat.

“She needs to rest, Mr. Mercer,” Dr. Bennett said.

“Her blood pressure is dangerously high, and the baby is under severe stress.”

Luke did not let go of my hand, his grip tightening slightly.

“Is she going to lose the baby?” he asked, his voice cracking with a vulnerability I had never heard before.

“We are monitoring her closely,” the doctor replied, adjusting the IV drip.

“But she was brought in unconscious after a fall, and her system is exhausted.”

Luke turned his gaze back to me, the deep lines of guilt written across his sharp jawline.

“I’m here, Elena,” he murmured, brushing a damp strand of hair from my forehead.

“I won’t let them touch you again.”

He did not know the half of it.

He did not know how close his family had gotten to me before I fell.

My black leather purse sat on the bedside table, its metal clasp catching the dim light.

Inside the front zipper pocket was the envelope I had sealed before the world went black.

Luke’s head of security, Marco Reyes, stepped quietly into the room, his broad shoulders filling the doorway.

Marco looked uneasy, his dark eyes darting toward the hallway before he closed the door behind him.