The first thing I heard was that annoying beeping. Slow, steady, like it was mocking me. The smell hit next—strong antiseptic mixed with that stinging bleach scent hospitals seem to bathe in. It burned my nose and clung to the back of my throat.
I cracked my eyes open. White ceiling. White walls. Tubes and wires. My clothes were gone, replaced with a loose hospital gown, and I was patched up with more bandages than I cared to count. The room was quiet, too quiet, and a chill hung in the air.
I pushed myself up with a grunt, turning my head—and nearly jumped out of my skin.
Sebastian.
He was sitting right there beside the bed, head tilted forward, asleep. His hand was wrapped around mine like I was some fragile thing he couldn't afford to lose.
This bastard. Acting like he cared. Like he wasn't the whole reason I ended up in here.
I yanked my hand back. Pain shot through my skull so fast it made me wince.
"Fuck," I muttered, pressing my fingers to my temples.
The movement must've woken him because he stirred, blinking at me like some concerned saint.
"You're awake. Hey," he said softly.
I scoffed. "As if you care."
Sebastian smiled, reaching over to brush a strand of hair from my face.
"I knew you'd pull through," he said, his palm settling against my cheek like he actually gave a damn. He was smiling again—like some dumb puppy expecting a pat on the head.
I slapped his hand away. "Screw off. How long was I out?"
"Two weeks."
I froze. "…What?"
"Two weeks," he repeated, casual as hell.
No. No way.
"You're fucking with me… right?"
He didn't bother answering—just pointed at the calendar on the far wall. My stomach dropped.
Two weeks. Two goddamn weeks.
Shit.
The weight of it sank in fast—like someone tied concrete blocks to my chest. How the hell was I supposed to face Isaaq now? Last time, things were already hanging by a thread. I'd let him in more than I ever planned, and this—this would probably snap whatever was left. He probably hates me. Hell, maybe he's already moved on… maybe with Theo.
The thought made my blood boil. I hated myself for letting it happen. For letting this happen.
"My phone," I said, my voice tight. "I need my phone."
Sebastian stared at me like I was speaking another language.
"Are you deaf? Where is my phone? I need to call—"
"The Almasi reject?" he cut in.
My hand shot out before I could think, gripping his collar. "I told you not to talk about him like that."
He smiled, all teeth and condescension. "Before you try something stupid, maybe think about which one of us here would actually get hurt."
I let go, but the urge to smash his face in stayed.
He chuckled like he'd won something. "Well, it's a shame. I assumed it was a burner… so I got rid of it."
Every damn word he spoke was like sandpaper in my skull. I hated him. Hated his voice, his smirk, his existence.
I hate you, Seb. You should fucking know that by now."
He stood, hands shoved deep into his pockets, like he owned the damn air in the room. Didn't even answer right away. Just stared down at me for a beat before leaning in, close enough that I could smell the faint trace of whatever expensive crap he wears.
"I never expected otherwise," he said, almost like it was a joke only he found funny. Then he smiled.
The nerve.
Straightening back up, he went on, "You should rest as much as you can. You got quite a beating." He stared at me again—long enough to make me wonder if that was supposed to be concern—then looked away like I wasn't worth the effort.
Was he actually trying to pretend he felt guilty? Tch. Fucking animal.
He sighed, casual as anything. "I already told your school you were in an accident. You're welcome."
"Tch, you're an asshole."
Sebastian scoffed, pretending to fix his sleeve and collar like I'd just wasted his precious time. "I never expected a compliment from you anyway. When you're discharged, first thing I want you to do is kill that Malrione prick. You understand?"
"I already told you I'm not doing it."
Sebastian leaned in, fingers clamping around my chin like a vice. "I don't think you understand the position you're in, little brother."
I slapped his hand away. "Get off me."
He scoffed, like I'd just said something adorable. "The doctors say you can be discharged as soon as you wake up. See to it that it's done before the end of the week… or else—" He paused, letting it hang in the air, his eyes glinting with that sick amusement. "I'll kill them both."
My chest went tight, heat surging in my veins. Rage burned through me. "I swear on our father's grave—one day I will kill you."
He smirked, leaning in so close his breath grazed my ear. "I'll be looking forward to it." A low chuckle followed, then the bastard kissed my cheek like we were sharing some tender family moment.
"Get the fuck off me!" I shoved him back, but he just laughed, grabbing my collar and yanking me forward.
"You try to hit me," he said, voice dropping to something dead and cold, "and I'll break your fucking wrist."
The seriousness in his eyes made my stomach twist. My voice dropped, bitter. "Why couldn't you just be a normal brother? Why do you have to be such a fucking demon?"
Sebastian tilted my chin back up, studying me like I was a puzzle only he could solve. "Hmm. I wonder why."
Then, just like that, his mouth was on mine. Soft lips. Wrong. Disgusting. Every part of me screamed no. I tried to push him away, but his hand slid to my side—right where the bruises still burned—and he squeezed, hard enough to make the pain spike white-hot. A warning.
He pressed harder, trying to force my mouth open, but I wasn't about to let him win. So I bit him—hard—right on the lower lip.
He hissed and pulled back, blood bright against his mouth. Then he laughed. Actually laughed. Licked the blood away like it was nothing.
I turned away, breathing hard, ignoring the sting in my ribs. The bandages were already bleeding through.
Sebastian leaned in again, his shadow swallowing the space between us.
"Did you really think that would stop me?" he whispered, his breath warm against my cheek.
His eyes flicked down to my lips — damp, cracked — then back up to my face like he was deciding whether to bite or kiss.
When he started leaning in, I shoved him back.
"Seb, stop. I'm your brother. This is—this is fucking weird."
His smile didn't falter.
"Do I look like I give a fuck?"
He caught my wrists before I could pull away, squeezing until my bones ached. His grip was vice-like, inhuman, the kind that could crush without effort.
"Push me again," he said, voice low and calm, "and you'll regret it."
Then he kissed me. Short. Firm. Like a warning.
"Why?" The word scraped out of me more as breath than voice.
"You're the only one who doesn't irritate me."
He stayed close, so close I could feel each exhale against my lips. His forehead pressed against mine. One of my hands was guided — forced — up to his cheek. His skin was warm. His thumb brushed slowly over my knuckles like we were some kind of lovers. Then he kissed my hand.
When he looked up at me, his expression had shifted — softer, almost sheepish, like a kid clutching a lost puppy.
"But didn't you have a boyfriend?" I asked, the words slipping out before I could stop them.
The softness died instantly.
"Oh, that," he said flatly. "I killed him."
I froze. "What?"
"He was disgusting."
"You were the one who asked him out."
"I thought he was different. I was wrong."
His hold on my hand loosened, but didn't let go.
I tried again. "What about that girl you were into back then? She was obsessed with you."
Sebastian's mouth twitched. "Have you seen her lately?"
I shook my head.
"She's dead. Spy. Annoying. I had her cut in pieces. Literally."
My stomach turned. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
I ripped my hands free and grabbed his collar. "Quit killing your partners."
His eyes glinted with something almost playful. "Then be my partner."
I barked out a humorless laugh. "Don't be fucking stupid. I can't even bring myself to like you as my brother, let alone anything else. Besides, I have someone else."
His smile thinned. "And if he was dead?"
I met his stare. "Don't push me, Seb."
He slapped my hands away and adjusted his shirt like I'd wrinkled something precious.
That's when the idea hit me — desperate, reckless.
"What if I found someone for you?"
He just stared at me, like I'd suggested something beneath his dignity.
"I'm serious," I said quickly. "Maybe you just haven't met the right match—"
"One week."
I blinked. "What?"
"One week to find someone for me… or else."
His thumbs brushed over my lips, and then his fingertips drifted down my chest, slow enough to make my skin crawl, until his hand clamped firmly around my thigh.
"I won't settle for just a kiss."
He finally stepped back.
"Oh, and I bought the hospital. This entire floor is cleared. Rest up. Do what I asked. Everything will be golden."
He winked,
"See you later, baby brother"
Then he walked out like he hadn't just turned my stomach inside out.
The silence left behind was suffocating. I could still smell his cologne in the air, feel the ghost of his grip on my wrists.
I dropped back into the bed, staring up at the ceiling.
Fuck. Things couldn't be more fucked.