He flagged down the first staff person he saw and ordered them to bring everything he needed.
What could Zayne do while he waited? What could he do?
His hands came to the back of his neck, digging into the head of the snakes, even though useless logic told him his fingers were contaminated with dozens of people's blood. What did it matter? What did anything matter? What could he do for these minutes he was forced to wait?
His eyes rose to the camera, and he didn't know how to speak for a minute. Language didn't exist.
The Phaedra was watching.
Zayne could feel it.
Watching to test whether his hold on Zayne held. Watching with sick curiosity to see how he'd react. To see if he'd follow orders and deliver Kira's spirit to him.
The only thing in the world that could contain Zayne's vengeance was also the only thing that mattered now—Kira lying in that shower, wearing all that remained of his mother.
Footsteps. Glorious footsteps.
He ran toward the noise, ripping the box full of supplies from the man's hands.
“The water?” Zayne asked.
“Turned back on.”
“Send a bed. Leave it in the hall.”
This time, when he reached Kira's shower and turned on the faucet, the pipes groaned.
Water sputtered out of the showerhead.
Freezing water. Shit.
But Kira didn't react. She stayed, eyes on him.
Zayne lifted a bottle of water to her lips and tilted her head back. Desperately, she drank and then shuddered in her first good breath since he'd found her like this.
“Good. Good job.” He paused to let her breathe before feeding water to her again. All the while, the shower poured over them both, softening the hardened blood that looked like another layer of skin.
A knock sounded on the door.
“Come in,” he said. Kira's eyes didn't leave his. “This woman is safe. She works in the laundry, and she'll help you. Okay?”
Zayne rose, but Kira's shaking hand brushed his pant leg. Silent pleading in her gaze again.
“I'm staying,” he said. “I'll stand where you can see me.”
The woman who came to help slipped past Zayne. “Hi, sweetheart.” She hung a curtain over the shower. Short gray hair curled at her temples.
Stepping out of the way, Zayne turned his back on Kira to give her privacy, but stayed close enough to help her feel safe.
Within seconds, shouting and commotion broke the quiet. He wheeled around in time to catch the woman as she fell. Kira, who had barely opened her eyes this whole time, kicked and thrashed on the ground.
“Don't! Don't!” Kira's voice hitched. Her breathing came too fast. “No!”
“I'm so sorry,” the woman stammered. “Oh, I'm—”
“It's fine,” Zayne said. “Just go. You did nothing wrong.”
Even after the lady rushed from the room, Kira still screamed and kicked water out of the shower.
