CHAPTER 23: NIGHT INTO MORNING

Chapter 23

JACE MARINO

The hospital feels like a place where time goes to disappear.

Hours have passed since they took Julian in, but the clock on the wall hasn’t moved. Maybe it’s broken. Or maybe I am.

The night outside has bled into morning without me noticing. The city lights dimmed. The world kept turning. But I stayed right here, on this same uncomfortable chair, hands clasped together, eyes fixed on the double doors at the end of the corridor.

Every sound feels too loud. The squeak of shoes against the tile. The soft crackle of the intercom. The hum of vending machines that no one’s touched in hours.

Somewhere down the hall, I can hear a nurse laughing quietly. A sound that doesn’t belong in this kind of waiting.

Rico and Luka are still here too.

They haven’t spoken to me once. They don’t need to. Rico’s glare says everything he wants to. Luka hasn’t looked up from the floor since we arrived. He’s been rubbing his thumb over a bracelet on his wrist, over and over, something nervous, something fragile.

I wish I could blame them for hating me.

But I can’t.

If I were them, I’d hate me too.

The doctor came out hours ago. Calm voice, tired eyes — and said Julian had suffered a panic-induced collapse. Too much adrenaline. Too much stress. His body just... gave out.

They said he was stable now. They said he’d be moved to a room soon. They said not to worry.

But I don’t know how to stop.

Because all I can see when I close my eyes is the way he looked at me in that room. Confusion, hurt, disbelief. Like I’d just torn the ground out from under him.

Rico broke the silence earlier. "You shouldn’t be here," he said, his voice sharp enough to cut.

I didn’t even lift my head. "I’m not leaving him."

He laughed under his breath. "You already did."

That one hurt.

Because it was true.

When the nurse finally comes back to tell us they’re moving Julian, my whole body jolts. I’m on my feet before she’s finished speaking.

"He’s okay?" I ask, even though I already know the answer won’t be enough.

She gives me a small smile. "He’s stable. You can see him once he’s settled, but only for a few minutes."

I nod, following as they wheel him past. His face is pale against the pillow, lashes dark against his skin. There’s an oxygen tube at his nose, a monitor clipped to his finger. He looks peaceful, too peaceful.

Like he’s dreaming about a world that never had me in it.

When we reach the room, the nurse adjusts a few things, checks his vitals, and then quietly leaves. Rico and Luka linger by the door. They look exhausted, eyes red, shoulders slumped. I expect them to tell me to go again, but they don’t.

They just stay close enough to make sure I don’t do anything stupid.

I sit by the bed. The chair is cold metal, the kind that creaks when you shift your weight. I rest my elbows on my knees, staring at Julian’s hand resting on the blanket.

I don’t touch it.

Not yet.

The doctor’s words echo again. Exhaustions, stress, panic.

I can hear my own heartbeat in my ears.

I caused all of that.

I lean back, running a hand through my hair. "You were supposed to be angry with me," I whisper. "Not... this."

The monitor beeps softly, steady and even. It’s the only sound in the room that feels alive. I focus on it, counting each beat like it’s proof that I didn’t ruin everything beyond repair.

Rico clears his throat behind me. "We didn’t call his parents," he mutters.

I turn slightly. "Why?"

He hesitates. "His dad’s a detective. If he finds out you’re involved..."

He shakes his head. "It’ll just make things worse."

I nod slowly. There’s a strange ache in my chest. Guilt and relief all tangled together. "Thank you," I say quietly.

Rico doesn’t answer. He just walks out of the room, muttering something under his breath. Luka follows after a moment, pausing only to glance at Julian and whisper, "Please wake up soon, man."

And then it’s just me.

The room is dim, only half-lit by the morning spilling through the blinds. Dust drifts in the light, slow and quiet. The air smells like antiseptic and rain. Someone must’ve opened a window down the hall.

I look at him again, really look.

The faint color returning to his cheeks. The way his fingers twitch sometimes, like he’s caught between dreams. He’s always moved in his sleep, restless, like even his body refuses to be still for too long.

I finally let my hand rest against his. His skin is cool, but not cold. His pulse flutters beneath my fingers, a tiny, stubborn heartbeat. It’s enough to make my throat tighten.

"I’m sorry," I whisper. "For the lies. For the name. For everything."

There’s no reply, of course. Just the rhythm of the machines and the faint sound of the world waking up outside. But saying it feels... necessary. Like it’s the only thing keeping me from unraveling.

The door opens again, soft but deliberate.

My brothers.

Mateo first, then Marco. Still in their suits, looking out of place among all the white walls and quiet. They exchange a look before Mateo speaks. "He wants you home."

The words land like a weight. "Tell him I’m busy."

"Jace," Marco starts gently, "you know how he gets when—"

"I don’t care." I keep my eyes on Julian. "I’m not leaving him."

Mateo sighs, stepping closer. "He knows about the boy."

I expected that, but hearing it still makes my stomach drop. "Of course he does," I say quietly. "He always knows."

"He’s angry," Marco adds. "He thinks you’ve been careless."

"Maybe I have," I say. "But I’m not abandoning him."

There’s a pause. Mateo studies me. Not like a brother, but like someone trying to decide whether I’ve just signed my own death warrant. "You think staying here will change anything?"

"No," I say. "But it’s the only thing I can do right."

He stares a moment longer, then nods once. "Fine. But if he sends men—"

"Let him," I cut in. "They’ll have to get through me first."

Leo frowns, but Matteo touches his arm, signaling him to drop it. "You’ve changed," he says quietly before turning toward the door.

I don’t answer.

Because I have.

And I don’t even know if that’s a good thing.

When they’re gone, I sink back into the chair, letting the silence settle again. The sun is higher now, painting faint stripes across Julian’s face through the blinds. I reach over and brush his hair away from his forehead, gentle this time.

"You’re safe," I murmur. "For now."

My voice cracks on the last word, and I press my hand to his again, holding on like it’s the only anchor I’ve got left.

Outside, the city is waking up. Nurses trade shifts. Coffee smells drift faintly from down the hall.

But inside this room, time stays still.

I stay with him. Watching, waiting. As the night finally gives up its hold.