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Dante merely nodded; his throat constricted.
Derek shot a quick, assessing glance into the Tesla. “She’s not your plus one?”
“Sir, I’ve never seen this woman before.”
The quiet murmur of hushed voices encroached upon them as more and more curious eyes turned their way. Every whispered word sent a tingling sensation crawling up Dante’s spine, making him all too aware of the growing audience around them.
CHAPTER 6
Consciousness crept back to Rebecca, an unwelcome intruder dragging with it the biting grasp of pain. It clutched her limbs, throbbed in her head, pulsed in synchrony with her erratic heartbeat. She dared not move, not even a flinch, as the murmur of voices sifted through her foggy mind. They were tinged with an edge, a harshness that scraped against her rising panic. Were Jango, Miguel, and Evan back? Miguel’s injuries had looked really bad, but it was said evil doesn’t die easily. Had he joined the others to find her? Had they recaptured her?
Yet, as she lay as still as possible, other senses began to paint a different picture. The air she drew into her lungs lacked the foul stench of stale cigarettes and gasoline she’d come to associate with her captors. Instead, there was a clean scent, almost sterile—the unmistakable aroma of a new car. Beneath her, instead of the cold, hard ground, was the coarse feel of automotive carpeting.
Where am I?
A man’s voice sliced through the ruckus, stern and commanding, “Angel, run and get Beverly or Valerie. Erika, call Dr. Carter.”
Confusion swirled within Rebecca, a maelstrom that attempted to piece together her fragmented reality. But the effort to make sense of it all only intensified the throbbing in her head. Unable to contain it, a moan escaped her lips, betraying her consciousness to the strangers around her.
The sun, a warm but distant comfort, suddenly vanished, replaced by a shadow that draped over her like a protective cloak.
“Sir,” the authoritative voice from before demanded, the severity in it as sharp as a blade, “step away from the vehicle.”
A protest followed, a different timbre, laced with indignation yet underscored by concern. “This is my car, and while I don’t know who she is and how she got there, she’s my responsibility.”
That voice slid over her raw nerves like the softest silk, a balm to the chaos and pain within her. It was as if she were hearing the most beautiful melody that had ever graced her ears, and an unbidden, instinctual sense of respite and safety after a traumatic period in captivity enveloped her. This man wouldn’t harm her. But how do I know? Her body betrayed her confusion and relief in another moan, and as her eyes fluttered open, the light seemed abrasive, an affront to her fragile state.
Yet, she couldn’t fathom why she trusted this stranger, this voice connected to a man she hadn’t even seen yet. With every slow blink, her vision adjusted, and the blurry silhouette sharpened gradually. He was crouching, his true height concealed, but his presence was as solid and comforting as a shelter. The dress shirt he wore beneath his coat was casual, the top buttons undone, revealing a strong neck that led to a broad chest. His jaw was stern, clean-shaven, and set in a way that spoke of both tension and resolve. His hair, blond and wavy, looked like it would feel thick between her fingers. And his eyes, the most striking shade of cobalt blue, bore into hers with an intensity that was almost palpable.
“Are you an angel?” The question slipped from her lips, a whisper laden with pain and the delicate tendrils of hope.
“Are you an angel?” Her voice was a fragile thread, frayed and weak, yet it tugged at something deep within Dante.
He snorted, the sound more reflex than amusement. “Darling, I’m far from angelic.” His voice came out gruff, the edges hardened by a storm of emotions he couldn’t begin to name.
Before more words could be exchanged, footsteps crunched on the gravel, and Sadie reappeared, a sense of urgency about her. Beside her was another woman, her hair cut in a professional bob, her bearing exuding calm efficiency even in the midst of tangible tension.
“Hi, I’m Nurse Valerie Cain,” she introduced herself, eyes quickly appraising the situation. “I believe there’s an injured, unconscious woman?”
Dante instinctively began to rise, to back away and give the nurse space to work, but a sound of distress from the woman halted him. It was a tiny noise, barely there, but it reverberated through him like a plea. Her hand, trembling and uncertain, reached out, and her touch was like a jolt, sudden and electric.
“Do you want me to stay, darling?” he found himself asking, his voice softer now, almost a caress.
“Yes, please,” she whispered, the words a breath of vulnerability.
Compelled beyond reason, Dante clasped her trembling fingers, their coldness drawing attention to the fact she was not wearing a coat or sweater. Dante moved to shrug out of his own coat, but before he could switch hands with the patient to pull it off his other arm, the nurse shook her head.
“Let me check her first.”
Nodding, Dante created room for Valerie to assess the woman’s injuries, awkwardly shuffling to the side, the position uncomfortable but the contact something he was unwilling to break. All the while, he maintained that fragile link, grounding her, grounding himself, as the world continued to spin unpredictably around them.
Erika’s voice cut through the thick tension, addressing Master Derek. “Dr. Ned is currently out, but he’ll be here as soon as he can.”
Dante registered Master Derek’s curt nod, but his focus already had shifted back to the unfolding scene at Dante’s Tesla.
Meanwhile, Nurse Valerie worked with a gentle efficiency, her hands deft as she checked the woman’s pulse, her pupils, and then palpated her limbs and torso, probing for broken bones or internal injuries. Her voice was calm, soothing even, as she asked, “Can you tell me your name, dear?”
The woman’s lips moved, her whispered, “Re… becca,” almost lost in the breeze.
