“The medical floor of the Order’s headquarters in New York.”
Her body tenses. I catch the flash of fear in her eyes. She has a lifetime of being told the Order is the enemy.
“Don’t worry. It’s safe. I wouldn’t let them bring you here if it wasn’t.”
Her gaze drops, and she slowly relaxes against me, the tension easing from her body.
“Tate?” she asks.
“It was touch and go for a while, but they managed to get her stabilized. She hasn’t woken up yet. At least, that was the last update I got about . . .” I glance over at the clock on the wall to check the time. “. . . two hours ago.”
She frowns, biting down on her bottom lip, and my fingers itch to trace it, to coax her into releasing it.
“Is she . . . going to be okay?”
The vulnerability and sadness in her voice and gaze shred me. I don’t want her worrying about her friend, but I won’t lie to her either.
“I don’t know. The extent of her injuries are more than just physical. We don’t know what the demon did to her mind.” I know this next part is going to hurt her, and because of that, it hurts me too. “There’s a chance she may never wake.”
A sob breaks free from her chest, and she buries her face against me to smother it. I rub her back, pulling her tighter against me.
“It’s all my fault,” she says, her voice muffled.
“No. This isn’t your fault.”
She shakes her head and then lifts it, her tear-stained eyes heavy with sorrow. “It is,” she insists. “I . . . I had a phone. I snuck it when you bought a burner. I called Kendra a couple of times. If I hadn’t done that, then she’d—then she’d probably still be alive.”
My eyebrows lift at the confession as fresh tears fill Haven’s eyes. That certainly explains some things, but it doesn’t matter now. What’s done is done.
“Haven, the demon was going to possess Tate whether you called or not.”
“But maybe it wouldn’t have killed—” she says, struggling to get the words out through emotion and her raw throat. “Kendra.”
“You can’t think like that. You don’t know what the demon would have done to get to you. It’s desperate and has no regard for human life. It would have killed every student at that university to get what it wanted, without hesitation.”
A shudder runs through Haven.
“Everything that’s happened should be laid at that monster’s feet, not carried by you.”
Her gaze drops, lifting a moment later. “But this never would have happened to them if they weren’t my friends.”
Another sob racks her, and I keep my hold on her tight. I let her cry because she needs to. Words aren’t going to make it better. She’s grieving. For herself. For her friends. Even for the life she once had, knowing she can never go back.
It’s a long time before Haven stops crying and I’m content just holding her, giving her the only comfort she’s capable of receiving right now. Eventually, her breathing evens out, and I assume she’s fallen back asleep, until she softly says my name.
I glance down at her, but she’s not looking up at me. Her fingers start making patterns over my ribs, and it feels amazing.
“Yes?”
“Are you okay?” she asks.
I tilt my head. “What do you mean?”
She lifts up a little and I instantly miss the full weight of her against me.
Her gaze travels over my face, tracing the contours before dropping and hiding those beautiful light brown eyes from me.
“When I saw you last, you were in pretty bad shape. I thought that maybe . . .” She swallows before saying, “Maybe you didn’t make it.”
