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Dad inside behind Lyric, who was already yelling for assistance.
A team of doctors and nurses came out. One doctor wheeled Dad to the back, telling a nurse to alert the operating room. Another rushed Monroe into an exam room, calling for blood work and an ultrasound. Moments later, Lyric swept me up into his arms and followed another doctor into another exam room where the man in the white coat shone his light in my eyes.
I muttered an oath and kicked out instinctively. “Back off,” I snapped at the man. “I’m fine.”
“You have a concussion,” he said with what sounded like amusement in his voice. “That’s a hell of a bruise you got there. How did you obtain it?”
“Someone hit me,” I told him and heard Lyric curse under his breath.
The door opened again, and Jesse came in. “Mila, honey, Monroe is crying for you.”
I pushed the doctor out of my way and would have run out of the room if Lyric hadn’t caught me around the waist. Lifting me into his arms once again, he gave me a glare, but he carried me to where my sister was. I was all too happy to let him carry me. When his arms were around me, holding me close and protectively against him, I wasn’t scared—and I’d been scared enough that day to last me a lifetime.
Monroe was lying on a gurney in the exam room next door. A nurse was already getting her blood work labeled and putting an IV into her arm at the same time. Seeing me, my sister held out her free hand, her tears silently begging me not to leave her as they spilled down her cheeks.
“Where’s Daddy?” she sobbed. “Is he going to be okay?”
“Of course he is,” I told her, praying I wasn’t lying to her.
“He’s going up to surgery now,” the nurse told us as she put tape over the IV site, securing it in place. “Don’t worry, dears. We’ll take good care of your father.”
The nurse left, and it seemed like the door had barely closed behind her when the ultrasound tech walked in. Jesse moved out of the way, and Lyric had to set me on my feet to make room for the machine.
I stood on one side of my sister’s bed as the tech got to work. Minutes passed, and then the room finally filled with the sound of a strong heartbeat. “Baby looks to be doing well,” the fortysomething woman in pink scrubs informed us with a comforting smile. “I’ll get out of the way so the doctor can come in and take care of you.” She printed off a picture of the ultrasound and handed it over to Monroe. “Good luck, sweetie.”
“Th-thank you,” she whispered, her fingers tracing lovingly over her little blob of a baby.
Thankfully, Monroe’s bleeding was just a ruptured blood vessel, from what the doctor told us a little while later. But they were going to keep her overnight just to be cautious.
Once we knew she was going to be okay, Lyric finally let the doctors look at his own gunshot. The bullet had gone straight through his bicep and, thankfully, had missed artery and bone. The doctor patched him up in Monroe’s room, gave him a few shots and a prescription for antibiotics before saying he was cleared to leave.
Mom came in with Aunt Raven, Layla, and Emmie, all of them fussing over both Monroe and me until the surgeon came down to talk to us about Dad. He was in recovery after they repaired the damage to his shoulder and removed the bullet from his thigh. He would have to stay a day or two before he could be released.
My uncles showed up, although I suspected they’d been waiting in the ER waiting room all along. Ben arrived with the local cops, and Monroe and I were questioned before they took Lyric and Jesse aside to get their statements about the shooting. Thankfully, they were labeling it as self-defense considering the circumstances.
I was completely spent. Barely able to keep my eyes open, I lay down beside my sister on her bed in her private hospital room. She wrapped her arms around me, cuddling close, and we finally fell asleep holding on to each other.
Chapter 23
Lyric
I didn’t even try to close my eyes until Mila was sound asleep in bed with her sister. Grabbing the uncomfortable as hell plastic chair from the corner of the room, I set it on Mila’s side of the bed and finally sat.
In the past dozen hours, I felt like I’d aged a good twenty years. I knew it wasn’t ever going to be boring with Mila at my side. She was going to put me in an early grave at this rate, but fuck, as long as she was beside me, I didn’t care.
Once Masterson was in a room, Willa went to stay with him. But Maverick was sitting in the other chair across the room. He was half asleep already, though, having gone east looking for his sisters when everyone split up, along with a few of his cousins and uncles. He’d arrived only an hour or so ago, and he looked about as emotionally wiped as I felt.
One of the MC brothers was standing outside the door. With the men who had taken the girls both dead, I wasn’t sure what they expected to happen to them, but I was glad they were taking precautions. Until I got Mila her own bodyguard, she wasn’t leaving my side, but Monroe still needed protecting too.
My arm was still blissfully numb from where the ER doctor had sewn me up, but the rest of my body felt like I’d been hit by an eighteen-wheeler. Groaning, I used my good arm as a pillow and laid my head on the end of the bed. I stroked my fingers along Mila’s leg, needing to touch her and reassure myself she was there and safe. She and the babies were okay. I hadn’t lost her or them, and I was still thanking all of Aunt Emmie’s gods for watching over them.
Eyes feeling heavy, I gave up the fight to stay awake and let sleep pull me under…
A pained grunt had me jerking upright and then jumping to my feet when I saw a shadow leaning over the girls. Everything moved fast, and I only had a few seconds to take in what I’d just woken up to. The door to the room was open, letting in light from the corridor outside. There was a body lying on the floor, which was why the door was propped open, and I realized it was the MC brother, but I couldn’t tell if he was alive or dead.
The grunt I heard must have been Maverick, because he was sprawled on the floor at the foot of the bed. A guy dressed all in black with the hood of his sweatshirt pulled up over his head and face stood on the other side of the bed, leaning over Monroe, pulling out her IV.
But when I’d jumped up, he’d pulled a gun, and it was pointed right at my head.
