Chapter 151: "Will you be here?"

He glanced at his silver wristwatch. "By three minutes."

"That’s late," she murmured, a faint, fragile smile touching her pale lips.

"Then I will apologize properly when you wake up," Aaron said softly.

He turned his head toward the doctor and the two nurses. He didn’t say a word to them, but the quiet authority radiating off him was enough. The doctor offered a polite nod. "We’ll give you two minutes, Mr. Kazarov."

The medical team stepped out, closing the door quietly behind them.

...

The moment they were alone, Aaron stepped closer to the side of the bed. He reached out, his big, warm hand covering both of her small, cold ones where they rested tangled in her lap. His skin was firm, steady, and solid, an anchor in the middle of her storm.

Isabella didn’t pull away. She turned her hands over, her fingers gripping his tightly. "Aaron?"

"I’m right here, Bella."

"I’m scared," she admitted quietly. Her voice broke on the second word, the quiet composure she had maintained all morning finally cracking open. "I’m... I’m really terrified."

Aaron didn’t offer her cheap, useless lies. He didn’t tell her everything was going to be perfect, nor did he tell her not to feel what she was feeling. He simply squeezed her hand, his thumb tracing smooth, comforting lines over the back of her wrist.

"I know," Aaron murmured, his deep voice carrying a quiet weight that filled the quiet room. "You would be a fool if you weren’t."

Isabella let out a shaky laugh, leaning her head forward slightly. "That’s all you’re going to say?"

"What do you want me to say?" Aaron asked, his tone dropping lower, softer, meant only for her ears.

"That there’s nothing to fear? Lies don’t suit us, Isabella. You are about to hand control of your body over to strangers with knives. It is terrifying. But being afraid doesn’t mean you turn back."

He reached up with his free hand, his long fingers gently catching her chin and lifting her face toward his. "Look at me."

Isabella raised her unseeing green eyes to his face. She couldn’t see the piercing blue of his eyes, but she could feel the intense, unwavering focus of his gaze on her.

"You survived Kian," Aaron said softly, his voice rough with an emotion he rarely showed to the rest of the world.

"You survived the divorce, the crash, and the loss of everything you thought you owned. You are standing here, alive, broken through nothing of your own doing, yet still breathing. A room full of doctors with scalpel blades is nothing compared to what you have already dragged yourself through."

A warm tear escaped the corner of her eye, tracking down her cheek. Aaron reached up, his thumb catching the tear and wiping it away with shocking tenderness.

Isabella took a deep, trembling breath, feeling the steady strength radiating off him. He felt like an immovable wall... dangerous to the rest of the world, but protecting her from the wind.

"Will you be here?" she asked softly, her fingers tightening around his hand until her nails dug into his skin. "When I open my eyes... will you be there?"

"I promised I would be here before you went under," Aaron replied, a tiny, faint trace of humor returning to his low voice. "I don’t recall saying anything about leaving afterward. I’ll be sitting right in that chair when you wake up."

Isabella let out a soft breath, her chest easing just a fraction. "Good. Because if I wake up and the first thing I hear is your voice complaining about hospital coffee, I’ll know I’m still alive."

Aaron let out a low, quiet chuckle, his thumb stroking her jawline. "I’ll make sure to order the worst cup they have, just for you."

He stepped even closer, his shadow falling over her as he leaned down. He pressed a long, quiet kiss to her forehead, lingering there against her warm skin, smelling the faint scent of her hair.

The heavy double doors of the room clicked open.

The doctor stepped back in, followed by two orderlies pushing a narrow, high stainless-steel gurney. "It’s time, Miss Kingston."

The room suddenly felt cold again. The quiet, intimate bubble they had built dissolved under the sharp reality of the chrome and leather equipment.

The orderlies carefully helped Isabella shift from the bed onto the gurney, covering her with warm white blankets. She kept her hand stretched out, clinging to Aaron’s fingers until the absolute last second, until the physical distance forced their hands apart.

They unlocked the wheels of the gurney, turning it toward the hallway.

As the bed began to roll toward the door, Isabella suddenly lifted her head, panic flaring sharply in her chest. "Aaron?"

Aaron took two swift steps forward, stopping right beside the frame of the doorway. He looked down at her, his expression tall, calm, and unshakable.

"I’m right here," he said.

"Don’t disappear," she whispered, her voice trembling as the orderlies pushed her out into the bright, buzzing corridor.

Aaron watched her bed move down the hall toward the heavy double doors of the surgical suite.

"Never," he said quietly to the empty doorway.

The surgical doors swung open, swallowed her gurney, and clicked shut, cutting her off from the rest of the world.

Aaron stood alone in the hallway for a long moment, staring at the closed double doors.

The warmth left his eyes slowly, replaced by a cold, quiet stillness. He turned on his heel and walked down the corridor toward the private waiting lounge, his heavy, rhythmic footsteps echoing against the pristine floor.

He sat down on the dark leather sofa near the curtained windows, pulling his silver cigarette case from his coat pocket. He remembered where he was, paused, and set the case back on the glass table.

The door to the lounge opened quietly.

Killian, his third-in-command, stepped into the room. He didn’t look like he had come to give good news. His dark suit was slightly disheveled, his face tight with tension as he held a encrypted satellite phone in his hand.

"Boss," Killian said quietly, checking the hallway behind him before shutting the door.

Aaron didn’t look up from his hands. "Is she in the operation?"

"Yes. The doctor just initiated the procedure five minutes ago."

"Good," Aaron said flatly. "Then why do you look like someone died?"

Killian walked closer, lowering his voice to a low whisper. "We just got a report from our contacts in New York. Two hours ago, Kian Carter had a private, unannounced meeting at a secluded estate outside the city."

Aaron raised his head, his cold blue eyes locking onto Killian. "With who? He’s spent the last two weeks kissing reporters and running his father-in-law’s company."

"Not this time," Killian said grimly. "Our watcher confirmed the vehicle. Kian met with a senior lieutenant. The Eastern syndicate."

Aaron’s eyes narrowed, a sharp, dangerous chill filling the room.

Two weeks ago, Don Vito had assured him that the Eastern syndicate had flatly rejected Kian’s attempts at an alliance. They were supposed to be locked out, forced to stand alone while Aaron tightened the grip around Kingston Empire’s international routes.

Yet Kian had found another door.

"Did they reach an agreement?" Aaron asked, his voice dropping into a deadly, quiet register.

"We don’t know what was said inside," Killian admitted, his brow furrowed. "The meeting was kept completely dark. No paper trail, no digital records. But Kian walked out of that estate smiling, Boss. And the guards didn’t raise an alarm."

Aaron sat back against the leather sofa, his long fingers lacing together over his knee.

While Isabella lay on an operating table having her eyes rebuilt, the board was shifting beneath them. Kian wasn’t breaking down.

He wasn’t drowning in his grief over Isabella’s departure. He was playing a long, quiet game, moving pieces in the dark while keeping Alice entertained with sweet lies.

"Find out what Kian offered them," Aaron commanded softly, his voice cutting like a razor. "These sharks don’t move for money alone. Kian gave them something they couldn’t get from us."

"Understood Sir," Killian nodded. "Should I put more men on the hospital?"

Aaron looked toward the window, where the cold gray rain had begun to smear against the glass pane, blurring the city below.

"Double the perimeter," Aaron said quietly. "If Kian is moving with the Easterners, he thinks he’s gained ground. I want this hospital locked down until she wakes up."

"Yes, Boss."

Killian bowed his head and backed out of the room, leaving Aaron alone in the dim light of the waiting lounge.

Aaron reached into his pocket, his fingers brushing against a small, velvet box he had carried with him all morning. He pulled it out, resting it on his palm, but didn’t open it. He simply sat in the quiet room, listening to the muffled hum of the hospital, waiting for the woman inside the operating room to open her eyes to a world that was about to catch fire.