Ara had been resting for several hours, her consciousness ebbing and flowing with each visit from the medical staff and the periodic updates from John's men. Each time she opened her eyes, John was there.
Ara was less surprised by his constant presence now, having spent every single day with him for weeks. If there was one thing that could be said about John, it was that he was utterly dedicated. To his work, his men, his syndicate. To her. She lay there, eyes half-closed, observing him as he engaged in a phone conversation, her mind drifting back to the night before her birthday when she had truly seen him for the first time.
Their destinies had been inextricably entwined ever since he had killed Brando. She still had questions about why he had ushered her into a different room that nig
