POV Bella
"This changes everything." Zane slammed another medical journal on the table, his eyes blazing with conviction. "Johns Hopkins just announced a gene therapy trial specifically for genetic cardiac conditions. Look at these success rates."
The campus medical library wrapped us in antiseptic silence, fluorescent lights casting harsh shadows across his scattered research. My brother had commandeered an entire table, papers spreading like battle plans.
"And here—" He thrust his tablet at me, fingers flying across the screen. "Switzerland. Dr. Brenner's team. They're developing artificial valve modifications that could add years to your timeline. Years, Bells."
"Zane—"
"No, listen." He gripped my shoulders, that familiar fire burning in his eyes—the same intensity that once made him unstoppable on the lacrosse field. "The cardiac program at Columbia accepted me early admission. Three years accelerated. I'll specialize in genetic conditions, focus my research on your specific markers."
"You can't plan your entire medical career around saving me."
"Watch me." His grin cracked through the seriousness. "Who else is going to save you? Some random doctor who sees you as case number whatever? Please. I'm going to be the best cardiac surgeon in the country. Just need you to stick around long enough for me to graduate."
"Oh, is that all?" I laughed despite everything. "Just casually survive another three years minimum while you become a medical prodigy?"
"Exactly. Should be easy for a Sinclair." He squeezed my hand. "We don't quit, remember? Dad's favorite motto."
"Dad's motto was about hostile takeovers, not failing organs."
"Same principle. We fight dirty when necessary."
"Speaking of fighting dirty."
The voice sliced through our moment like a blade. Ajax emerged from behind the medical journals, moving with that liquid grace that made my treacherous heart stutter.
Zane shot to his feet, instantly shifting into protective mode. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"Research." Ajax held up a cardiac surgery textbook. "Fascinating stuff. Did you know the average wait time for a compatible heart is two to three years?"
My blood froze. Zane stepped partially in front of me, fists clenching.
"Relax, baby Sinclair." Ajax raised his hands in mock surrender. "I'm part of the secret-keepers club now. Your sister and I have an understanding."
"You told him?" Zane whirled on me, betrayal written across his face.
"He figured it out." The words scraped my throat. "It's fine."
"Fine? Nothing about Ajax Spencer knowing your medical condition is fine!"
"Actually," Ajax stepped closer, his expression shifting to something I'd never seen before—genuine seriousness. "It means I can help."
"Help?" Zane laughed bitterly. "You've spent years destroying her."
"Things change." Ajax's eyes found mine, holding steady. "I'm going to look out for her. Make sure she doesn't push too hard, takes her medications on schedule, all the stuff she tries to hide from everyone else."
The sincerity in his voice struck like lightning. Zane looked between us, confusion replacing anger.
"This is insane," he muttered.
His phone erupted with notifications. "Shit. Study group." He glared at Ajax. "If you hurt her—if you so much as make her cry—I'll personally ensure you need your own transplant. Multiple organs. Starting with your balls."
"Brave little brother." Ajax's smirk returned. "I like him."
"Stop." I pressed my palms to my temples. "Both of you. No more testosterone displays in the medical library."
Zane gathered his materials, shooting Ajax one last warning look. "Remember what I said, Spencer."
"Burned into my brain."
Then we were alone. The air between us crackled, electric and dangerous.
Ajax stood close enough that his body heat reached me, leather jacket stretching across shoulders that belonged on magazine covers. His dark hair fell perfectly disheveled, and those eyes—God, those green eyes that saw straight through every defense I'd built.
"You've been avoiding me again." Not a question.
"I've been busy."
"Dying doesn't count as busy." He shifted closer, backing me against the bookshelf. "We talked about this."
"You talked. I fled."
"And yet here we are." His hand rose, fingers almost touching my cheek before dropping. "Still have my jacket?"
Heat flooded my face. "What jacket?"
"The one from the coffee incident." His voice dropped to that register that liquified my insides. "The one you've been hiding in your closet."
"I don't—I forgot about it."
"Liar." The word brushed against my ear. "You probably sleep with it like a security blanket."
"You're delusional."
"Probably." He pulled back slightly, studying my face. "Keep it. But wear it tonight."
"Tonight?"
"I'm picking you up at six." His finger traced down my arm, leaving fire in its wake. "Have something to show you."
"Ajax—"
"Six o'clock, Bella. Don't make me break into your estate."
"You wouldn't."
"Try me." He stepped back, that dangerous smile playing at his lips. "Wear something warm under the jacket. We'll be outside."
"Where are we going?"
"You'll see." He turned to leave, then paused. "And Bella? Stop looking at me like I'm going to disappear."
"I'm not—"
"You are." He faced me fully, intensity radiating from every line of his body. "Like you're memorizing me for later. Stop it."
"Why?"
"Because I'm not going anywhere." The promise in his voice made my chest constrict. "Not until you make me."
He vanished into the stacks, leaving me pressed against the bookshelf, heart racing erratically. Not from my condition. From him.
Six o'clock. His jacket. Something to show me.
I was already mentally cataloging every reason this was a terrible idea, even as anticipation unfurled in my chest like a flower blooming toward inevitable destruction.
Ajax Spencer was going to be the death of me.
And for once, that wasn't about my failing heart.