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One
Sawyer
Lincoln lay on the bed, unmoving. His chest rose and fell in slow, steady breaths. He’d taken on a pale, ashen color, and sweat beaded his brow like he might be fighting a fever.
An IV ran from a stand to his left into his arm, pumping fluids and maybe medicine into him. He was shivering despite the thick layer of blankets covering him almost to his chin.
It had been three days, and he hadn’t woken up yet. The worst part was he didn’t show any signs of waking. I’d tried to speak with him a few times and never got a reaction.
I couldn’t feel him either. My entire life, even in the womb, I could feel his presence and knew he was there. When I reached out to him through our link, all I felt was cold and blackness.
Sloane couldn’t reach him either. She felt the same thing I did—nothing.
I scrubbed a hand over my face and shut my eyes. This was all my fault.
If I had been faster, if I’d been there for them, this would have never happened.
I blinked my eyes open and stared at them both, watching as they slept.
Sloane lay in bed next to Lincoln, her eyes shut, resting peacefully. Her hair fanned out around her, some of it on Lincoln and the rest on the purple pillowcase. Her left hand was on his chest, as if feeling to make sure that his heart still beat.
I tiptoed forward and put my hand on the bed rail, making the floorboards creak beneath my weight. Sloane rolled, and her eyes slowly opened.
When she saw me, she sat up. The covers fell off her, exposing the shape of her plump breasts hiding beneath her barely there tank top.
“Sawyer.” A smile spread across her face, and she patted the space on the other side of her.
I exhaled as I closed the distance and sat on the edge of the bed. It dipped beneath my weight and made her fall forward enough so our faces were right in front of each other.
Sloane put her hand on my shoulder and then rested her chin on it so her mouth was right against my ear. “Lie down with us.”
She gave me a gentle tug, and I let her pull me down on the bed, lifting my legs onto the mattress so I stared up at the ceiling. Sloane mimicked my stance, curled her fingers around mine, and then did the same with Lincoln’s.
I opened my mouth and then closed it. Emotion clogged my throat as another wave of guilt rocked me.
Sloane squeezed my hand and turned her head so she was looking at me. “No change yet. My mom comes to check on him a few times a day. He’s fighting. She says that’s good, but she thinks that Mikey gave him a near lethal dose of wolfsbane, and then there are the injuries. They aren’t healing because of it.”
I swallowed down the lump in my throat. “I can’t feel him.”
The space where Lincoln lived was empty, black, and cold. It made my stomach pit and my brain foggy.
Sloane licked her lips and let go of Lincoln’s hand so she could swipe at her eyes. “Me either. I hate feeling like he is all alone in there.”
I rolled my head side to side against the pillow, trying to work out the kinks in my back and shoulders. “Lincoln is strong. He’s going to pull through this.”
He’d been to hell and back once. He could do it again.
Please, Lincoln. Keep fighting for me. For Sloane.
I didn’t know what I would do if I lost him. Sloane was in danger, too. Dad and Mikey had put a huge target on her. They wanted her and had every intention of making her suffer.
I gritted my teeth at the thought. I needed to get everything under control. Everything was spiraling.
Sloane turned so that she was facing me. She propped up on one elbow and put her hand on my chest. “How are you holding up? I haven’t seen you much.”
I reached up and stroked a finger down her cheek, her skin soft and smooth. “I’ve been here. It’s just been late. I didn’t want to wake you.”
One of us should get some sleep. Dad was planning and plotting. We’d spent nearly every waking moment in the past few days preparing for our attack.
