Chapter 37

Cora

I didn’t even think about the return flight. I just ran.

One second, I was in the airport terminal, scrolling through another dozen frantic headlines about Kingston’s company falling apart, and the next, I was barreling toward the gate like my legs had decided for me.

I don’t even remember grabbing my bags.. My body was just moving, heart hammering, breath tight, lungs burning with one word pounding through me like a war drum.

Kingston.

Was he okay?

He had to be okay.

The world was unraveling too fast—drug scandals, bribed competitors, stock plunges, headlines screaming betrayal. But all I could think about was that rally. That speech he insisted on holding.

He would never back down from the public, not even when danger surrounded him like wolves in the dark.

And I knew—somewhere deep in my bones—that he was walking into something worse than just a PR disaster.

The moment my feet hit the city pavement again, I barely stopped to breathe. I shoved through traffic, waved down a cab, and muttered the venue address so fast the driver did a double-take.

I didn’t care. I didn’t even have a plan.

Just get to him.

I had seen that he would be attending the Silvefang rally to boost morale, and it took everything in my power not to demand that my driver push the speed limit to get there.

By the time I finally reached the rally site, a sea of people had gathered, shoulder to shoulder, shouting, cheering, buzzing with the electricity of political spectacle.

Kingston stood at the podium like a sentinel carved from granite. Confident. Steady. Alone.

Until I got there.

I was still elbowing through the crowd when I felt it.

That prickle at the base of my neck.

Not nerves. Instinct.

I knew it the way a mother knows the way an animal knows when it’s being watched.

My eyes swept the rooftop across from the stage, just in time to catch a flicker of metal in the sun.

No.

I didn’t think.

Didn’t shout.

Didn’t scream for help.

I just ran.

The gunshot cracked through the air like thunder.

And then pain—searing and white-hot—exploded in my shoulder as I slammed into Kingston, knocking him back from the podium.

People screamed. Chaos erupted.

But all I could hear was my heartbeat. All I could feel was the fire under my skin. I collapsed against Kingston’s chest, his arms catching me instinctively as we hit the ground.

His voice was the last thing I heard before darkness took me.

“Cora!”

I woke to beeping. Soft. Steady.

The scent of antiseptic clung to the air, and the sheets beneath me were stiff, tucked tight. My body felt heavy, my shoulder ached, and my mouth was dry as sand.

For a moment, I didn’t know where I was. I blinked slowly, vision fuzzy, until it focused on one thing: Kingston.

He sat beside me, his broad shoulders hunched forward in a chair far too small for him. His elbows rested on his knees, fingers laced tightly together like he’d been praying or trying not to fall apart. His head was bowed. His eyes, when they lifted, were bloodshot, rimmed with something that looked too much like fear.

My voice came out as a whisper. “Hey…”

His head snapped up. “Cora.” He surged forward so fast it startled me, his hand reaching out but stopping inches from mine. It was like he didn’t trust himself to touch me.

“You’re awake,” he said, and for the first time, his voice trembled.

I tried to smile. “Of course I am. I’ve still got work to do.”

He exhaled sharply, like I’d kicked him in the chest.

“You took a bullet for me.”

I shifted, wincing. “I wasn’t about to let some idiot sniper ruin your chances of turning this thing around.”

He stared at me for a long moment. “That wasn’t just about work.”

“No,” I admitted, voice soft. “It wasn’t.”

Silence stretched between us, thick with everything we’d left unsaid for too long.

“I thought I lost you,” he said finally, his voice raw. “You fell, and I— there was so much blood, Cora.”

I reached out this time, my fingers brushing his. “But you didn’t. I’m here.” I swallowed dryly and repeated, “I’m here.”

Kingston closed his hand over mine like it was the only thing anchoring him to the earth.

His grip was warm, steady, and yet his whole body trembled.

Something passed between us then. Something deeper than fear. Deeper than duty or gratitude.

We had nearly lost each other.

And in that moment, it stopped mattering who had what title.

What mattered was that when the bullet flew, I hadn’t hesitated.

And he hadn’t let go.

Hours later, after the nurses left and the chaos quieted into a sleepy kind of peace, I turned my head toward him again.

“You stayed all this time?”

He nodded without looking up from my hand. “I’m not leaving.”

“You have a company on fire,” I reminded him.

“And yet,” he said, looking at me with something like wonder, “you’re the only thing I can’t walk away from.”

I felt heat rush to my cheeks.

We’d never said it. Not in words.

But it was here. In the spaces between heartbeats. In the quiet we let linger.

I tried to swallow the lump in my throat. “You scared me, you know. Running headfirst into that rally when everything was falling apart.”

“I scared you.” He scoffed. “I had to show strength,” he said. “But I was… afraid, too. Especially when you weren’t there.”

“I was on a plane. Running away,” I admitted.

He looked at me sharply. “Why?”

“Because I thought you doubted me,” I said, ashamed. “Because I didn’t know if you still believed in me. And I needed time away from you and Daisy and Billy.”

He stood then, walking to the window, tension rolling off him in waves. “I never stopped believing in you, Cora.”

“Then why didn’t you say anything?”

He turned, eyes fierce. “Because I didn’t want to draw more attention to you. Because I was trying to protect you, even if it meant keeping my distance.”

And just like that, the last of the walls crumbled.

I sank back into the pillows, heart pounding.

“You’re allergic to mangoes too,” I said suddenly.

He blinked. “What?”

“Riley. His allergy scare. You told me you have the same reaction.”

Kingston nodded slowly. “Yeah. It runs in my family.”

I hesitated. “That’s… strange, isn’t it?”

He frowned slightly but didn’t answer. I could see him puzzling it out, what I suspected.

For now, it didn’t matter. Too many questions, too much spinning in my head. We were both silent as we weighed up this information.

By morning, I was cleared to go home.

Kingston helped me dress, his touch gentle, his eyes careful on mine. Every brush of his hands lit a trail of fire in its wake. I was incredibly aware of every touch, every breath he took. I knew he felt the same way about me without asking.

As we walked down the hospital hallway, his hand lingered on the small of my back—warm, steady, protective.

And this time, I didn’t flinch.

I let him.