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“Where is Claire?” was the first thing out of my mouth when Lucky and my mom made their way into the hospital room. “And Judah?”
Maybe I should have thanked them for being there, assured them that I was okay. That was what you did with the family who’d been worried sick, waiting for you to come out of surgery after nearly dying from gunshot wounds.
But my only thoughts since I woke up in the recovery room, aching, weak, and disoriented, were about where they were, if they were okay.
I’d had nothing left in me at the end there, but there was no shaking the feeling that I should have been able to rally, to at least stay conscious to make sure they were okay before I let the darkness claim me.
“The waiting room,” Lucky said. “They’re both okay,” he added. “Worried about you, but okay. But listen, before we talk about anything else, we need to get the story straight.”
He’d launched into the story then, the one Damon had told the police when they’d shown up at the hospital. Some fake random drive-by crime that would be hard to prove and even harder to refute.
I had a vague memory of being in the car with Damon, of his hand pushing hard into my neck with one hand as he drove with the other, but everything was pretty much blank from the moment I shot my traitorous fuck of a guard, then dialed Luca’s number on my phone before passing out.
Luckily, it seemed, Luca had known something was wrong, that we needed help, and had called to wake up Damon at his hotel.
Then he’d shown up to grab me and drag me to the hospital.
Part of me was pissed that he’d left Claire alone in the house with the baby, even if he gave her weapons. Even if I was bleeding out in front of him.
But from the sound of things, his quick action was probably the only reason I was alive right now.
Well, the quick action and the fact that Claire had shoved Warren at the exact right second, making it so the bullet lodged in a relatively harmless area of my neck instead of anywhere else that would have all but assured my immediate death.
I understood that I needed to see my family all first, even if I was most anxious about seeing Claire herself.
Each set of visitors that came in to see me filled me in a little bit more, though, gave me details that I didn’t have, filled in blanks I’d been curious about.
It had been Milo, though, who had whipped out his phone, showing me a picture of Claire that looked like it was out of that prom scene in Carrie, with her drenched in blood.
Warren’s blood.
Apparently, she must have stabbed him dozens, if not hundreds, of times, according to Milo’s report on the state of his body.
He’d concluded she was a ‘badass’ for pretty much disemboweling her former abuser.
Luca, a little more tactfully, told me how bad of shape she’d been in when he’d arrived. She’d still been sitting against Judah’s door, armed, completely dissociated.
Understandably, given the events of the night.
Then, of course, as it all came back to her, she’d been sick and hysterical.
Judah had been in his crib alone. Likely crying himself to sleep since his mom was too traumatized to go to him.
I knew she probably felt like shit about that too, even if there’d been nothing either of us could do for him in that moment. Me, bleeding out and unconscious in the car with Damon. Her, in shock, zoned out.
But kids were resilient.
He would be alright.
My family swore that he’d been good at the hospital, eating junk food, and playing games on everyone’s phones to keep him occupied.
And after this, his life would be so much more secure and normal.
He would likely have no memories of the one night he’d needed to cry himself to sleep when he had all the new memories about stores, restaurants, parks, arcades, and play dates with other kids his own age.
He’d be okay.
I’d been more worried about Claire.
