The hospital smells like bleach and fear. I walk through the automatic doors and nobody stops me. Nobody asks who I am. I'm wearing jeans and a white t-shirt. My hair is pulled back. I look like anyone.
Piper offered to come with me. I said no.
The elevator takes forever. Fourth floor. ICU. I step out and a nurse glances up from her station. She sees something in my face and looks away fast.
Room 412. The door is half open. I push it wider.
Dorian's awake. Propped up on pillows. Bandages across his chest. An IV in his arm. He looks pale. Thinner. His eyes lock on me the second I step inside and something breaks open in his expression.
"Alayna." His voice cracks. "You came."
I don't answer. I walk to the bed. There's a chair beside it. I don't sit.
His hand moves toward me. Reaches. I step back.
"I dropped the charges," he says. Fast. Desperate. "All of them. You're free. You can go anywhere. Do anything. I just—" He stops. Swallows. "I just need you to know I love you."
I look at him. Really look. The man I married. The man I destroyed my family for. The man who pulled me out of the ocean and locked me inside a lie.
"Where's my father's watch?" I ask.
He blinks. Confused. "What?"
"My father's watch. Arthur Reed's watch. Where is it?"
Something shifts in his face. Guilt. He glances at the bedside table. "Alayna—"
I see it. Right there. Next to a plastic cup of water and his phone. A simple watch. Expensive. Old. I pick it up. The metal is warm. He's been wearing it.
The realization hits like cold water.
"You wore this," I say quietly. "For five years. You wore my dead father's watch while you played house with the woman whose family you destroyed."
His face crumples. "I wanted to feel close to you. To who you really were. I—"
"You wore his watch." My voice doesn't rise. It goes quieter. Sharper. "You killed him and you wore his watch."
"I didn't kill him." Dorian's sitting up now. Wincing. "Estrella made that call. Not me. I never wanted—"
"You let her." I close my fingers around the watch. "You knew what she was doing and you let her. You used her. You used all of us."
"I was angry." His voice breaks. "Your father looked at me like I wasn't good enough. Like I'd always be the poor kid who needed saving. I wanted to prove—"
"So you killed him."
"No." He's crying now. Tears running down his face. "No. I never meant for any of that to happen. I loved you. I still love you. Everything I did was because I couldn't lose you."
I stare at him. This man. This stranger.
"You already lost me," I say. "Five years ago. When you walked out of that church."
I turn to leave.
His hand shoots out. Grabs my wrist. The IV tugs. He doesn't let go.
"Don't." His grip is tight. Shaking. "Please. I'll do anything. I'll give you everything. The company. The houses. I'll disappear if that's what you want. Just don't leave like this. Don't leave me with nothing."
I look down at his hand on my wrist. Then at his face.
There's a service weapon on the table. Piper's backup piece. She left it there when she visited yesterday. Forgot it maybe. Or didn't.
I pick it up with my free hand.
Dorian goes very still.
I press the barrel against his forehead. Cold metal. His eyes are wide. Terrified. He doesn't let go of my wrist.
"Touch me again," I say softly, "and love won't save you."
I wait. Five seconds. Ten.
His fingers open. My wrist is free.
I lower the gun. Set it back on the table. Pick up my father's watch. Slip it into my pocket.
"Goodbye, Dorian."
I walk out. The door closes behind me with a soft click.
In the hallway, my hands start shaking. I lean against the wall. Press my forehead to the cool paint. Breathe.
Piper's waiting by the elevator. She doesn't ask how it went. She just hands me a cigarette.
We ride down in silence. Outside, the California sun is too bright. I light the cigarette. Inhale. My first in five years.
Piper leans against her car. "You get what you came for?"
I pull the watch from my pocket. Hold it up. The metal glints in the sunlight.
"Yeah," I say. "I did."
She nods. "Where to now?"
I look at the watch. At my father's initials engraved on the back. A.R. Arthur Reed.
"New York," I say. "I'm going home."
