My heart drops. “Get her up!” I scream. “Get her the fuck UP!! Someone call?—”
“Move.”
Mint, clove, and masculine spice surround me as a huge shape pushes me aside and drops down. Then Achilles lifts Wren in his arms and turns to me.
My breath catches as his piercing dark eyes slice into me, his jaw tight as the black fire behind the golden facade crackles and spits.
“You coming with me?”
I nod.
“Good.”
29
YELENA
“She’s goingto be okay, Lark.”
I swallow the heavy lump in my throat as I hear Wren’s mom dissolve into tears on the other end of the line.
“I—I’m so sorry,” I choke as my own tears start to roll hot down my face. “I’m so, so, sorry?—”
“Oh, Yelena, honey,” Lark sobs. “You have nothing to apologize for. I just…” She chokes on another sob. “Fuck, I don’t know how we missed this after her breakup with that asshole!”
She starts to cry again. So do I, then I get it together enough to talk.
“She’s completely stable now. They pumped her stomach, and said her throwing up on the way here was actually a good thing. She’s got a saline drip going to rehydrate her, too.”
“Thank you for taking care of my baby,” Lark chokes. “Really, I…” She starts to cry again. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
I’ve known Wren’s mom and dad my whole life, and they’re like a second set of parents to me. So to hear Lark, who’s usuallysocomposed and cheerful, going to pieces like this is jarring.
But understandable.
Wren could have died tonight.
That’s no exaggeration. The doctors here at Greenwich Hospital said her blood alcohol level was 0.34%. Considering that Wren is five foot three and a hundred and twenty pounds soaking wet, and that a BAC of 0.40% could easily kill a grown man?
Yeah.
Tonight could have been…bad.
Except Achilles was there.
Achilles, who just appeared out of nowhere when I needed him the most, scooped her up, andranto his car. He decided against the campus safety offices and even the walk-in clinic at Hawthorne Harbor and roared here to Greenwich Hospital at breakneck speed with her, me, Lucia, Galina and Ari.
I’m not the reason Wren’s alive.
He is.
There's a shuffle on the other end of the phone.
“Hey, Lena,” Bane, Wren’s father, growls into the phone, his voice weary and strained. “How are you doing?”
I start to cry.
“Hey, it’s okay,” he says tightly. “You got our girl to safety, and you’re okay too. Right?”
