chapter forty-three

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I spoke to Zade and told him everything about my presence here, solely dedicated to making Volkov and his minions suffer

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I spoke to Zade and told him everything about my presence here, solely dedicated to making Volkov and his minions suffer.

He agreed, and if anything, he seemed relieved to hear it from me.

After that, he insisted that I eat, and the amount of food he piled onto my plate made me feel like a pig. Diego had never served me this much, not even a quarter of it. Of course, I couldn't finish it all; I'm not used to this much food.

He glared at my half-full plate after I claimed I was full. "Eat," he ordered, his colorless eyes piercing into mine, leaving no room for discussion.

I glared back as I continued to eat my food aggressively until I had emptied my plate. "Good," he said, "go up and take a shower. That girl wants to see you." By 'that girl,' he was referring to Kim, whom he despised without even knowing her.

I nodded and carefully made my way up the stairs. I couldn't let him carry me for another minute longer.

. . .

I sat in the corner of the hospital room, my eyes fixed on Kim's motionless form in the hospital bed. Kim had endured unimaginable horrors, and the guilt gnawed at my conscience relentlessly. I knew I had to talk to Kim, even though it felt like an insurmountable task.

The door creaked open, and Zade stepped into the room. He looked weary, his gaze weighed down by our shared experiences. My heart ached, torn between my love for him and the pain he had inadvertently caused me.

After my shower, he handed me a pair of his sweatpants and a hoodie. He still had the panties I gave him during that Halloween party, and he gave them to me... clean.

I was a bit shocked, but I got over it.

It was the best shower I'd had in almost a month. "Aia," he said, "I got you something." He held out a pink drink he had brought from Starbucks. I accepted it with a mumbled thank you.

I took a sip while he stood next to me. "Who is she?" he asked in a low voice.

"My best friend," I responded. "Kimberly, but I call her Kim."

He nodded, urging me to tell him more. "She was there for almost ten years, and I knew her from high school." He turned to me, his eyebrows furrowed.

"I know all your friends from high school, but I've never seen her—"

His speech was cut short by Kim stirring and wincing in pain. I placed my drink on the bedside table and hurried to hold her still, fearing she might worsen her condition. "Kim, Kim, Kim," I said softly, trying to soothe her.

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