One-zero-zero.
It rang once.
Chapter 9
LORETTA
Ramiro answered almost immediately.
“Hi, Loretta,” he said. “Is everything all right?”
“Not exactly.” I swallowed. “I think I’ve managed to injure myself.”
The admission stung more than the pain in my leg.
“Could someone come help me? A staff member, perhaps.”
There was a brief pause—just long enough for me to imagine his expression sharpening into concern.
“Sure,” he replied quickly. “We have a home physician on call. I’ll send him right away.”
“Thank you,” I murmured.
The line clicked softly as the call ended.
I lowered the phone slowly, wincing as even that small movement sent a sharp pulse of pain through my shin.
The cut throbbed in time with my heartbeat, each pulse accompanied by the faint sensation of warm blood trailing down my leg.
I set the phone back in its cradle by touch, my fingers unsteady.
My stomach tightened faintly, unsettled by the sting of pain in my leg.
The cut on my shin pulsed harder now, no longer just a sharp point of contact but a steady, insistent throb that spread outward with every heartbeat.
I bent slightly without thinking, one hand finding the edge of the bed to steady myself before I could misjudge my balance again.
Breathe.
Just breathe.
In.
Out.
