Page 19 of Life Or Death

“Mrs. Holland, you’re in the hospital. You’re safe. We need you to calm down so we can assess your breathing.”

I shake my head. I’m not Mrs. Holland, and I’m not safe. I’m being burned alive, and no rational part of my brain will let me think otherwise.

Tears spill from my eyes and slide down my temples, soaking into the pillow beneath my head. Again, I try to scream for help, and this time a guttural sound vibrates from the back of my throat.

A pair of familiar brown eyes come into view, and relief floods me so intensely that it almost eclipses the pain.

Tori.

My best friend. My roommate. The only person in this world who ever gave a damn about me without asking for something in return.

I try to reach for her, but I’m unsuccessful, and a sob rattles through my chest.

“Jess, it’s okay. I’m right here.” Tori’s voice is thick with emotion as her hand finds mine, squeezing it gently. “You’re gonna be okay. Just try to calm down.”

I want to tell her to get me out of here. I want to beg her to make them stop hurting me. But I can’t speak. I can’t even squeeze her hand back. My fingers lie limp against hers.

“There was an explosion at the bar,” she reveals, and those words ignite a memory. The flames come rushing back—licking, consuming, destroying. I feel them all over again, and a sound tears from somewhere deep in my chest.

Tori’s face crumbles as she leans closer, her free hand brushing hair from my forehead. “No, no, no. Listen to me. You were injured, but you are going to be okay. Do you hear me? You’re going to make it through this. You’re in the hospital, and the doctors are doing everything in their power to help you heal.”

“That’s enough,” a man wearing blue scrubs says as he attempts to shove Tori aside. “Ma’am, I need you to step back. She’s too agitated right now, and you’re making matters worse.”

“No, I’m not leaving her side. Can’t you see she’s terrified?”

“I said step back,” the doctor says as he grabs her by the elbow and tries to move her from my bedside.

Tori’s face contorts with anger. “Get your fucking hands off me.”

Another set of hands appears, pulling at Tori’s shoulders, and I watch in horror as they drag her away from me. She fights them, twisting and pulling, her eyes never leaving mine. I try to scream her name, but all that comes out is another strangled gurgle.

Maybe this is what hell feels like. There’s no other explanation.

“Mrs. Holland, listen to me.” A different voice now. “We need to remove the breathing tube, but you have to calm down first. If you’re this agitated, we can’t risk it. Do you understand?”

I don’t understand anything. Why are they calling me Mrs. Holland? My last name is Owens. I’m twenty-three years old and I’ve never been married.

The machine beeps faster, matching the frantic pace of my heart. My body thrashes, and the pain in my legs spikes so sharply I see stars.

“We need to sedate her,” someone says. “She’s going to hurt herself.”

No.

I don’t want to be put back under. I want to escape this torture. Fighting with everything I have, I close my eyes and will my arms to find some strength so I can lift them and pull this thing out of my throat.

However, my efforts come to a halt when a commotion erupts inside the room. My eyes spring open as the door slams against the wall, startling everyone who crowds my bed.

“Get your fucking hands off my wife.”

The room goes quiet. All the doctors and every nurse freeze at the sound of that deep, commanding voice. A voice I’ve heard only a few times, and never once was it directed at me.

I force my eyes to focus through the tears, and there he is—tall, broad, covered in ink and cloaked in leather, his jaw set in a hard line as he pushes through the crowd.

Lucifer.

For the first time since my eyes opened, my body goes still. The counting stops. The panic recedes just enough for me to wonder why he’s here. Why is he calling me his wife? My gaze tracks him as he cuts through the crowd, his leather cut such a stark contrast against the sea of blue scrubs.

I blink once, then again, waiting for him to disappear, but those dark eyes—so wild and dangerous—lock with mine, and soon he’s standing right next to me, his nostrils flaring as he continues to stare at me.