[BL] Bound to My Enemy: The Billionaire Who Took My Girl Chapter 123: Back in the hospital

The black sedan glided through the streets of Barcelona, the city lights blurring into long, jagged streaks of neon against the window. Inside the car, the silence was heavy, broken only by the low hum of the engine. I leaned my head against the cool leather seat, the world still tilting in nauseating intervals.

I pulled my phone from my pocket again. I scrolled past Noah’s na and dialed Reid.

Reid answered on the first ring, his voice crisp and devoid of emotion. "Mr. Wolfe."

"Give an update," I rasped, my voice sounding like gravel. "What do we have on the Vincenti family’s recent movents? Specifically their underground operations in the diterranean."

"I’m still digging, sir," Reid replied. "They’ve been quiet since the transition, but there’s a lot of chatter in the lower tiers. Movent of assets, specialized equipnt. I should have a full profile by weekend."

"Good," I said, a fresh spike of pain lancing through my skull. "New task. Well, not new, but I want you to double back on Alex Hendrix. Dig deeper into those mysterious lawsuits from years ago. I want nas, settlents, and non-disclosure agreents. Anything that slls like a pattern of behavior."

Reid didn’t ask why. He didn’t question the sudden shift in focus. "Acknowledged, sir. I’ll prioritize it."

I cut the call. The phone felt like it weighed fifty pounds. I closed my eyes and let the darkness take over until the car slowed to a halt in front of the hospital’s private entrance.

The hospital room next to Cyan’s was identical to every other high-end dical suite I’d seen: sterile, white, and offensively bright. The lights felt like physical blades stabbing into my retinas.

The sa nurse from earlier... a woman whose na tag read Elena... stood by the bed. She didn’t say a word at first, but she didn’t have to. She gave a look that had "told-you-so" written in every line of her face.

"Mr. Wolfe," she said, her voice clipped and professional. "Finally decided to listen to the people with the dical degrees?"

I didn’t respond. I didn’t have the energy to trade barbs. I just sat on the edge of the examination table, my hands gripping the edge of the mattress to keep the world from spinning off its axis.

The doctor entered a few minutes later... an older man with salt-and-pepper hair and eyes that had seen everything from boardroom collapses to gunshot wounds.

He moved with a practiced, efficient grace, shining a light into my eyes that made my brain feel like it was being microwaded. He tested my reflexes, my balance, and my coordination, his expression darkening with every failed tric.

"Concussion. Grade two," the doctor announced, snapping his light shut. "You’re lucky it’s not worse, Mr. Wolfe. Walking around in this state... you could have collapsed in the street."

He began rattling off a list of requirents: dication, rest, twenty-four-hour observation, and absolutely no strenuous activity. Elena started an IV, the cold fluid rushing into my veins to combat the nausea and the relentless throb in my temples.

"We’re keeping you overnight," the doctor added, his tone leaving no room for negotiation. "For monitoring."

I wanted to argue. I wanted to tell him I had a gala to run and an assassin to find. But as the sedative-laced painkiller hit my system, the fight drained out of . I slumped back against the pillows, the ceiling finally stopping its erratic rotation.

I was just beginning to drift into a dicated haze when the door didn’t just open... it slamd against the wall with a violence that made the IV stand rattle.

"Are you KIDDING right now?!"

Cyan stord into the room like a localized hurricane. His left arm was encased in a thick white cast, and his body was a mosaic of bandages and bruises, but his energy was at an all-ti high. He looked furious.

Elena jumped, her hand flying to her chest. "Sir, you can’t just... "

"Watch !" Cyan snapped, pointing his good hand at like a loaded weapon. "You refused to get checked?! After a high-speed rollover?! What is WRONG with you, Cassian? Is there actually nothing but ego inside that skull?"

I turned to the nurse, my brow furrowed in confusion. "I thought you said he was asleep."

Elena looked nervous, adjusting her clipboard. "We thought so too, sir. He... he’s very persistent."

I sighed, the sound catching in my bruised ribs. "Cyan, sit down. You’re being dramatic."

That was the wrong thing to say.

"DRAMATIC?!" Cyan’s voice pitched an octave higher, echoing off the sterile walls. "You could have DIED! You could have internal bleeding, a brain injury, a clot! And you’re just wandering around Barcelona playing the brooding hero? And you’re calling dramatic?!"

Cyan was on a roll now, and when Cyan got like this, there was no stopping him. He paced the small space of the room... as much as his injuries would allow... gesturing wildly with his right hand.

"Do you have ANY idea how STUPID you are?!" he shrieked. "Walking around with a concussion! Refusing dical treatnt! Acting like you’re invincible! You think you’re so kind of god, Cassian? You think physics doesn’t apply to the Great Cassian Wolfe?"

"Cyan... "

"No! You don’t get to talk! I’m talking now, and you’re going to LISTEN!" He stepped closer, looming over the bed despite the cast and the pain he was clearly hiding. "You think you’re so tough? So strong? Well, newsflash! You’re HUMAN! And one of these days, your stubbornness is going to kill you, and I’m going to be the one who has to pick out your casket, and I will pick the ugliest one I can find just to spite you!"

Elena quietly slipped out of the room, sensing that this was a private matter... or as close to family as we got.

Cyan finally stopped, his chest heaving as he breathed through the exertion. He stared at with those sharp, intelligent eyes, the anger slowly giving way to a raw, vibrating exhaustion.

The hospital bed was large enough for two, a luxury of the private wing. Without asking, Cyan climbed onto the edge of it, moving carefully to protect his cast. He settled in beside , propping himself up against the headboard as if we were back in prison, hiding out from the world.

The silence settled between us, heavier and more honest than the shouting had been.

"You’re an idiot," Cyan said, his voice softer now, almost fond.

"I know," I admitted, the painkillers finally making honest.

Cyan stared at the ceiling for a long ti, the rhythmic beep of the monitor the only sound in the room. "I’m surprised Noah hasn’t co dashing through the door like so tragic heroine yet."

I froze. Every muscle in my body tensed, the phantom sensation of Noah’s hand on my arm in the suite coming back to haunt .

Cyan didn’t notice... or more likely, he chose to ignore it. "I an, I figured he’d at least check if you were okay. He seed... pretty attached."

"He... visited. Sort of," I said, my voice tight.

Cyan turned his head, his brow furrowing. "Sort of?"

"He showed up at the hospital earlier. And then again at the suite." I paused, the guilt gnawing at . "I dismissed him."

The silence that followed was brief.

SMACK.