She asked the question with absolute calm, thoroughly convinced he would say no. Wynn was the only leverage he had over her, after all.
"I'll go with you," Sebastian replied smoothly.
Helena blinked in genuine shock. She hadn't expected him to agree so easily.
"If you hadn't pulled that stunt downstairs, I was planning to take you to see him right after your appointment anyway," he stated matter-of-factly.
She couldn't tell if he was lying or not.
He held his hand out toward her. She stared at his open palm, making no move to take it.
She knew exactly what this was—a test of her submission. Reluctance warred with necessity in her chest, rooting her to the spot. But with Wynn's fate entirely in Sebastian's hands, she had no choice but to fold. The only reason she was still enduring this nightmare was to keep her brother safe.
"Don't you believe me?" he asked casually, though his dark eyes burned with a menacing intensity that promised hell if she refused.
If she fought him now, he would drag her back to the depths of despair. And she just couldn't survive that again.
Closing her eyes, she slowly lifted her hand and placed it in his.
The moment her skin touched his, the tension rolled off his shoulders. He was satisfied knowing she was still firmly on his leash.
Instantly, her earlier defiance was forgiven—reduced to nothing more than a cute little tantrum in his eyes.
His fingers curled tightly around hers, locking her in.
Helena stared down at their joined hands. This wasn't a gesture of love or protection. It was the smug satisfaction of a master who had successfully disciplined his pet.
The doctor escorted them to a private waiting room. A monitor on the wall provided a live feed of Wynn being wheeled out of the ICU.
Helena's eyes glued themselves to the screen. She gripped the edge of the sofa, her palms slick with sweat, her heart hammering against her ribs.
Wynn's face finally came into view, unblocked by a maze of tubes and wires. In the old ICU footage, he had been buried under machines, looking so fragile she feared a stiff breeze would end him.
Now, he was sitting up in a wheelchair. He was a ghost of the energetic, athletic boy she remembered—wasted away to skin and bone—but he was awake. He was alive.
A massive lump formed in her throat. She desperately wanted to sob, but the tears wouldn't fall, leaving a heavy, agonizing ache in her chest.
"Wynn is going to be fine," Sebastian murmured, sensing her overwhelming emotion.

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