Obsessed

Chapter 17

The sharp scent of antiseptic stung Mark’s nose the moment he stepped through the hospital doors. The bright fluorescent lights overhead did nothing to calm the storm raging in his chest. His hands—still stained with Ronnie’s blood—clenched and unclenched as he sat in the waiting room, the crimson drying along the creases of his fingers and beneath his nails. Every passing second felt like an hour.

He stared blankly at the sterile white wall across from him, his foot tapping a relentless beat against the tiled floor. A nurse passed by, giving him a sympathetic glance, but he barely registered it. He was too focused on replaying the crash over and over in his head—her bloodied body collapsing into his arms, the look of pain and confusion on her face, the way she gasped and clung to him like he was her last tether to the world.

The doors to the ER burst open.

“Mark!” Jackson rushed in, his tie half-loosened and coat flapping behind him. “Did you hear anything?”

Mark didn’t look up. He just shook his head slowly, jaw tight, eyes vacant.

Jackson’s face dropped. He walked over and sat beside him, glancing down at the blood still staining Mark’s shirt and jeans. “Jesus… you’re still covered.”

Mark didn’t respond.

Jackson exhaled through his nose, rubbing his hand over his mouth as silence settled between them. He’d never seen Mark like this. Not after raids, not after shootouts, not even after the worst of the ops overseas. This was different. This was personal.

Minutes stretched on. The hum of machines, the squeak of nurses’ shoes, the low murmurs of families filled the air around them.

Then finally—a doctor stepped out from the double doors leading to surgery.

Mark jumped to his feet instantly, his heart thundering. “How is she?”

The older man pulled off his surgical cap, brushing sweat-damp hair from his forehead. “She’s stable.”

Mark’s knees nearly buckled from the relief that surged through him.

“She lost a lot of blood,” the doctor continued, “but we managed to stop the bleeding. The metal fragment missed her vital organs by inches.”

Mark dragged a shaky hand down his face.

“If it weren’t for the bulletproof vest…” The doctor glanced at the dried blood on Mark’s shirt. “We would have lost her. It absorbed the initial impact and slowed the penetration. She was very lucky.”

Mark swallowed hard. “Can I see her?”

The doctor nodded. “She’s still groggy, but yes. This way.”

Mark followed him down the corridor, Jackson trailing quietly behind. Every step made his chest tighten more. Each door they passed, every beep and buzz of a monitor, made it harder to breathe.

Then they reached the room.

Room 307.

The doctor opened the door and stepped aside.

Mark entered slowly.

The room was dimly lit, calm. The only sound was the soft rhythm of the heart monitor beside the bed. Ronnie lay there, pale against the stark white sheets, her blonde hair tousled around her face. A bandage wrapped around her head, and a second covered her side beneath the hospital gown. An IV dripped steadily beside her.

She looked so small like that.

So fragile.

His breath caught.

He hadn’t realized how deeply her presence had rooted itself in his life until the thought of losing her nearly ripped him apart.

He took a few steps toward the bed, stopping beside her. Her lips were parted slightly, her brow furrowed like she was dreaming. He reached out hesitantly and brushed a loose strand of hair from her forehead, his fingers trembling.

“I told you to be careful,” he whispered. “Damn it, Ronnie…”

She stirred slightly, eyes fluttering.

Mark froze, holding his breath.

Her lashes lifted slowly, and those ice-blue eyes met his.

For a moment, she just looked at him.

Then—hoarsely—“Mark?”

His shoulders sagged in relief. He exhaled like he hadn’t in hours.

“Yeah,” he said, moving closer. “I’m here.”

She blinked slowly, her voice barely above a whisper. “What happened…?”

“There was a crash,” he said gently. “Someone hit the SUV. It flipped. You… you were hurt.”

Her eyes flickered with vague memory. “Elise?”

Mark’s jaw clenched. “Gone. We don’t know if he was taken or escaped, but he wasn’t in the SUV when we got to it.”

Ronnie groaned, wincing as she shifted slightly. “Figures…”

“Hey—don’t move,” he said quickly, reaching for her hand. “Just rest, okay? You’re safe now.”

She gave a faint nod, her fingers curling weakly around his. “You stayed?”

“Of course I did.”

Her lips twitched in a half-smile. “Still covered in blood?”

He glanced down and huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah… yours.”

“Gross,” she mumbled sleepily.

“I’ll wear it like a badge.”

Her smile faded slightly, her gaze softening. “You… saved me.”

Mark looked down at her hand in his, his voice low. “I’ll always save you, Ronnie.”

Ronnie drifted in and out for a while, her hand still laced with Mark’s. Nurses came and went, checking her vitals, adjusting her IV, whispering softly in the dimness like they didn’t want to disturb something sacred.

Jackson had stepped out to give them space, offering a reassuring nod to Mark as he left. But Mark didn’t move from his chair, not once. He sat there beside her bed, elbows on his knees, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest.

Every time her breath hitched or she shifted in pain, his muscles tensed. There was a helplessness in it all that twisted in his gut—he was used to stopping things before they happened, throwing himself into the line of fire. But this time, she’d taken the hit. And that image of her collapsing into his arms—bloody, confused, her body trembling against his—was burned into his memory with vicious clarity.

“You’re thinking too loud,” Ronnie’s soft voice pulled him from the spiral.

Mark looked up, startled to see her eyes open again.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t.” She swallowed and tried to sit up slightly but winced and settled again. “Hurts like hell.”

“Yeah… I’d imagine.” He leaned forward, lowering his voice. “You scared the s**t out of me, Ronnie.”

She studied his face, taking in the creases in his brow, the red-rimmed eyes, the tension in his jaw. “Didn’t mean to. I wasn’t planning on getting impaled today.”

Mark didn’t smile.

“I thought—” He shook his head. “I really thought I lost you.”

There was a long silence.

“You didn’t,” she said finally. “I’m still here.”

He nodded, but the emotion in his eyes didn’t waver.

Ronnie glanced toward the door, then back to him. “Theo?”

“He’s fine. With Gale and Marvin. Jackson called them, told them what happened. They’re keeping him busy.” Mark hesitated, then added quietly, “He was asking for you.”

A small smile pulled at her lips. “I’ll see him soon.”

Mark leaned back in his chair, scrubbing a hand over his face.

Ronnie tilted her head, watching him. “You didn’t sleep.”

“No.”

“You didn’t even change.”

“No.”

“Mark…”

His eyes flicked to hers.

“You’re allowed to care,” she said softly. “You don’t have to pretend like this didn’t wreck you.”

“I’m not pretending.”

“Then tell me what you’re thinking.”

He hesitated, chewing on the inside of his cheek. Finally, he spoke.

“I’m thinking that I’ve lost too many people already. My team… my friends. I can’t lose you too, Ronnie.” His voice dropped. “I wouldn’t come back from that.”

Her throat tightened.

He looked at her again, and this time his walls weren’t just cracked—they were down. All of them. “When I saw you there, bleeding… everything in me just—shut down.”

“I didn’t mean for you to—”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” He reached forward, brushing his fingers along hers. “You were just doing your job. And that’s what terrifies me.”

She blinked back the emotion gathering behind her eyes.

The silence between them was no longer heavy—it was fragile, electric.

“I don’t let people in easily,” she said quietly.

He exhaled slowly, like the breath had been trapped in his lungs all this time. “Ronnie…”

She shifted slightly again, grimacing. “Can you help me sit up a little? I hate feeling this helpless.”

Mark stood and adjusted her pillows, moving with gentle precision. His hands lingered again, but not just out of care—there was a gravity to his touch, a reverence.

Once she was settled, he sat back down, this time closer.

“I meant what I said,” he told her. “I’ll always save you.”

“And I’ll keep fighting,” she said. “But next time… maybe don’t let me climb into an SUV with a psycho and no backup.”

Mark smirked faintly. “You’re the one who insisted.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Are you blaming the victim?”

His smirk deepened. “You don’t look like a victim.”

“Good.”

They sat there in comfortable silence for a few minutes, letting the weight of their words settle.

Then Ronnie yawned, her head tilting back against the pillow.

“You should rest,” Mark said. “You’ll need your strength.”

“Will you be here when I wake up?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Always.”

She smiled sleepily, her eyes already closing. “Good… then I can finally sleep.”

And as her breathing deepened, Mark sat beside her, still and steady, keeping watch—not just as a detective or protector—but as someone who, without meaning to, had fallen deeply, dangerously, completely in love.