Chapter 304

Serena’s POV

I couldn’t tell how long I’d been out when consciousness started seeping back into my body. First came the sounds—beeping machines, hushed voices, someone crying softly. Then the sensation—a dull throbbing in my side and a sharper pain at the back of my head. The antiseptic smell hit me next, that unmistakable hospital scent.

My eyelids felt impossibly heavy as I struggled to open them. The fluorescent lights above were blinding, making me wince.

"She’s waking up!" Someone gasped—Maya’s voice, thick with tears.

I blinked several times, the room slowly coming into focus. My hospital bed was surrounded by people—Maya still in her wedding dress though it was wrinkled now, mascara streaking her cheeks; Ethan beside her looking shell-shocked; my brother Ethan Quinn hovering anxiously at the foot of the bed; and Ryan...

Ryan was right next to me, clutching my hand like it was his lifeline. His knuckles were white, face ashen, hair disheveled like he’d been running his fingers through it for hours. His normally immaculate suit was rumpled and stained with what looked horribly like blood—my blood.

"Don’t try to move," he said, his voice raw. "You’re okay. You’re going to be okay."

I tried to speak but my throat felt like sandpaper. Ryan immediately reached for a cup with a straw, gently holding it to my lips. The cool water was heaven.

"What happened?" I managed to croak out, though I was starting to remember fragments—Edward, the gun, pushing Maya and Ethan...

Maya’s face crumpled. "You saved us, Serena. That psychopath Edward was aiming for Ethan but you..." she broke off, unable to continue.

"The bullet hit you in the side," Ryan explained quietly, his thumb stroking the back of my hand. "And you hit your head on the sound equipment when you fell. You’ve been unconscious for about six hours."

"Edward?" I asked.

"In custody," Ethan Quinn answered, stepping closer. His eyes were red-rimmed too. "Security tackled him seconds after he fired. The police have him, and with attempted murder at a public event with hundreds of witnesses plus his previous stalking charges... he’s never seeing daylight again."

I nodded weakly, then winced as pain shot through my head.

"Don’t move your head," Ryan said immediately, his hand tightening around mine. "The doctor said you have a mild concussion."

"The bullet?" I whispered.

"Grazed your side," Ryan explained. "Missed everything vital. You were incredibly lucky."

Maya suddenly burst into fresh tears. "You could have died because of us! I’ll never forgive myself for—"

"Stop," I interrupted, my voice stronger now. "I’d do it again in a heartbeat. Not your fault. Never your fault."

Ethan pulled his sobbing bride gently against his chest, mouthing "thank you" to me over her head, his own eyes glistening.

The door opened and a doctor entered, clipboard in hand. "Ah, Mrs. Blackwood, you’re awake. That’s excellent. How’s the pain?"

"Manageable," I lied. Every breath felt like fire in my side.

The doctor wasn’t fooled. "I’ll have the nurse increase your pain medication. The good news is the bullet wound was relatively clean—it grazed your abdomen but didn’t penetrate deeply. No major organs were damaged. The concussion is mild, but we’ll keep you under observation for the next 24-48 hours to be safe."

"When can she come home?" Ryan asked, his voice tight with concern.

"Assuming no complications, probably in three days. The bullet wound will take a few weeks to heal completely, and she’ll need rest for the concussion, but there’s no reason she won’t make a full recovery."

The relief in the room was palpable. Ryan’s shoulders sagged as he brought my hand to his lips, pressing a kiss against my knuckles.

"I’ll give you all a few more minutes, then Mrs. Blackwood needs to rest," the doctor said before leaving.

As soon as the door closed, my brother moved to the other side of my bed, gently taking my free hand. "When they called me..." his voice caught. "I thought I was going to lose you all over again, after just finding you."

"Not getting rid of me that easily," I managed a weak smile.

"The whole family’s in the waiting room," Ethan Quinn continued. "Mom and Dad are beside themselves. They’re only letting immediate family in right now."

"Tell them I’m okay," I said. "Really."

Maya had composed herself somewhat, though her eyes were still red and swollen. "Your wedding gift to us was supposed to be that gorgeous set of crystal champagne flutes, not taking a bullet."

I tried to laugh but stopped when it sent pain shooting through my side. "Consider it an upgrade."

"Not funny," Ryan muttered, but there was relief in his eyes now that I was awake and talking.

A nurse came in with more pain medication, adding it to my IV. "This will make you drowsy," she warned.

As the medication began to take effect, making the room slightly fuzzy around the edges, Maya and Ethan reluctantly said they’d come back tomorrow. My brother kissed my forehead before leaving too, promising to return with our parents in the morning.

Ryan stayed, still holding my hand, his thumb making soothing circles against my skin.

"You’re not leaving?" I asked, my eyelids growing heavy.

"Try and make me," he said, his voice low and fierce. "I’m not leaving your side again."

"Mmm, stubborn," I murmured, feeling sleep pulling me under.

Just before I drifted off, I heard Ryan whisper, "When I saw you fall... I’ve never been so terrified in my life. Don’t ever scare me like that again, Serena. I can’t lose you."

I wanted to respond, but the medication was too strong, carrying me into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Over the next two days, my hospital room became a revolving door of Quinn family members. My parents barely left, my mother fussing over everything from my pillows to my hospital food, while my father stood guard like a sentinel. Eleanor and Zoe came with flowers and gossip magazines "to keep you from dying of boredom instead." Maya and Ethan visited daily, still apologizing profusely despite my insistence that they stop.

And Ryan... Ryan was my constant shadow. He worked remotely from a chair beside my bed, only leaving when forced out by nurses or when my family insisted he get some rest. Each time he returned looking more disheveled than when he’d left, like being away from me physically pained him.

On the third day, the doctor declared I was ready for discharge. "Remember, plenty of rest, no strenuous activity, and keep the wound clean. The stitches will dissolve on their own."

"I’ll make sure she follows every instruction to the letter," Ryan promised, his hand warm on my lower back as he helped me into the wheelchair hospital policy required for discharge.

As we waited for the discharge papers, I couldn’t help but notice how the Quinn family had formed a protective circle around me—my parents discussing my aftercare with the doctor, Ethan Quinn arranging for a private nurse to visit daily, Eliza already texting the house staff to prepare my favorite foods.

"They love you," Ryan murmured, noticing my gaze. "We all do."

"Ready to go home?" Ryan asked as the nurse arrived with my discharge papers.

I nodded, realizing I truly was ready—not just to leave the hospital, but to embrace this next Chapter. We had survived. We were together. The worst was behind us.

Ryan wheeled me out into the sunshine, my family flanking us like an honor guard.