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His real name had yet to be announced publicly, though Ezra had called and given it to me, saying his family would also be informed. Cowan Gringling. A man with a long history of mental illness, psychiatric admissions for homicidal delusions, someone my sister had somehow fallen in with before she’d realized the demon hiding underneath.
Five years ago, he’d been convicted of attacking his mother in her kitchen. She’d survived, and a year ago, he’d been released.
A year ago when he’d killed Raffi and Miles.
A year ago when he’d killed my sister.
I blew out a strained sigh and sat forward, resting my elbows on my thighs as I scrubbed my palms over my face like it could break up the thousand pounds of exhaustion that weighed me down.
So heavy I could hardly breathe, the oxygen squeezing in and out, each a prayer issued to the heavens.
I’d been in this room for the last three hours.
Paisley had been AirVac’d to Denver to a level 1 trauma center. I’d forced my way onto the helicopter, refusing to leave her side.
She’d coded on the way here, suffering hemorrhagic shock.
Because she’d lost too much blood.
Too much fucking blood that I was covered in.
The only solace in this was that Evelyn was safe.
Forever.
There would no longer be a threat lurking in the shadows.
I sniffed, not realizing moisture blurred my eyes until I heard the commotion at the door. I looked up to find Ryder, Ezra, Dakota, and Paisley’s grandfather rushing in.
All the kids were staying with Dakota’s mother, including Evelyn. Ezra had seen to it that she was cared for, checked out that she had no injuries, before he’d taken her to Pat’s house so everyone could make the drive to Denver.
At least I knew she was safe.
Surrounded by people she knew until I could get back to her.
And I prayed she’d find comfort in it, in the new friends she’d gone on about, in her family that she was just getting to know.
I thanked God she’d come to identify this place as her home.
That we could stay here now.
We didn’t have to run any longer.
My chest constricted and my heart wobbled. But at what cost?
“Oh my God, Caleb, have you heard anything else?” Dakota rushed forward. Her face was a mess, splotched with red, her eyes so swollen it seemed impossible she could see through the slits.
I forced myself to stand on my weakened legs. “No. Not since we got here.”
“Oh, God.” She wrung her hands, and tears slipped from the corners of her eyes. “Please let her be okay.”
Ryder wound his arm around her waist to support her. “She’s going to be. She has to be.”
He met my gaze, pain in his, for Paisley, for Dakota, for me.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
My head shook, and I tried to swallow around the splintered razors that had gathered in my throat.
Ezra stepped forward and pulled me into a hug. “It’s okay, man. It’s going to be okay. Evelyn is safe, and that fucker is dead. Rest in that for now.”
“There’s no resting until I get to look into Paisley’s eyes.”
Tightening his arms, he nodded in understanding, murmured, “You will.”
When he pulled away, I turned to Paisley’s grandfather who loitered just inside the room, the old man fidgeting with the cap he’d pulled from his head and fighting the tears that brimmed in his eyes.
I moved to him, forcing my voice to cooperate when I stood in front of him. “There are not enough apologies to make up for what happened today.”
Each word curdled on my tongue.
Sorrow rippled through his aged features, his voice craggy when he spoke. “And not one you owe. She loves that little girl like her own, and I think both you and I understand the willingness to die for the ones we love. Paisley would. I know she would. But it’s not gonna come to that. I feel it. Right here.”
He knocked his fist against his heart. “She’s too strong for that. Has too much life inside her. Too much to give. Probably a bit of trouble to get herself into, too.”
I choked on a soggy laugh. “I’m sure there is a bit of that left inside her.”
“You gonna be waiting for her when she wakes up?”
“Yes.”
He gave me a clipped nod. “Good. Then after that, you promise me you won’t ever leave her side.”
“I won’t.”
Sniffling, he wiped his nose with a handkerchief.
“You should sit down and rest. I was told it might be a while,” I told him, but we didn’t have a chance before a woman opened the waiting room door and poked her head in.
“Paisley Dae’s family?”
“That’s us.”
She slipped in, and I fucking hated the grim expression she wore, the way her jaw was long and dread pooled in the depths of her brown eyes. “I’m Dr. Laconie. Paisley is out of surgery and in intensive care recovery.”
