Page 13 of Queen of Ruin

When I return to my room, she’s sitting up in bed and appears much more awake than before. Slight color returns to her cheeks, although that might be a touch of shyness, given how she can’t look me in the eye when I remove her T-shirt and begin tending to the wounds on her back.

It’s much like a repeat of when we first got here, only this time, I ask her how she’s feeling, how much something hurts, if anything feels broken or in the wrong place. Most of her answers are the same.

She’s fine.

But she flinches at my touch, jerks away from painful wounds, and whimpers through her teeth when I tend to the deepest gash on her head.

“This still looks really bad,” I say after laying new gauze on her forehead. “I really think we should take you to the hospital. Or a doctor. Someone local.”

“No,” she replies with her eyes closed. “We can’t.”

“I know it feels like you can’t, but maybe that’s just the shock of what happened to you, y’know?”

“No.” Amber’s eyes open slowly and she meets my gaze with a sad smile. “It’s too dangerous. If we go to the hospital, we’ll be caught, and the people I’m running from will kill you for killing those men.”

5

VALENTINA

“Do you remember something?” Hope warms Diego’s words as he fixes me with a wide-eyed look.

It only worsens the twist of guilt when I shake my head. “No… not exactly.”

“Not exactly?” Setting aside the medical kit on the bedside table, he fixes me with a steady gaze. “Amber, anything you remember about those men could be important. No matter how small. There will be people out there who care about you, who are worried and desperate for you to come home.”

“I don’t remember anything like that,” I murmur, unable to look away from his eyes. “I remember a little more about the crash. Snippets, sort of. Like being in a car and feeling all my clothes sticking to me. And this sensation…” My hand presses gently to my chest. “Of like… falling. And then someone in front of me with a gun, and I just remember this certainty, knowing that he was going to kill me.” The words catch in my throat, and suddenly, Diego’s hand covers the top of mine on my lap.

“Take your time,” he coaxes softly. “Slowly.”

“That’s… that’s all. But that urgent certainty was so strong, so I know whoever is behind them would just kill you for what you did.”

To my surprise, Diego smiles.

“You’re not… scared?” I ask.

“Oh, I am.” He nods quickly. “I’m kind of really fucked up about the fact that I shot two people and now there might be more of them super pissed that I killed them.”

“So why are you smiling?” On my next blink, the sharp pull at my temple isn’t as tight, and my next breath doesn’t send a shockwave of pain through my ribs. The painkillers are working.

“I was stressing that you would start to think I kidnapped you, or that I had done this to you. Y’know, in movies where the kidnapper plays with the victim’s head? I would never do that, but I was scared you’d think I was the bad guy.” He puffs out his cheeks. “But this is good! This is really good. Maybe it means your memory loss won’t be permanent.”

“You’d be pretty twisted to hurt me like this and then play savior,” I say softly, turning my hand under his until we’re palm to palm. “But I—” A sudden sharp, rapid, distant knocking ends my words and our eyes meet while my heart suddenly pounds up into my throat. “Expecting anyone?”

“No.” Diego’s expression darkens. “Stay here.” He sweeps from the bed and vanishes from the bedroom, closing the door softly behind him.

Having seen nothing outside of this room and the attached bathroom, Diego’s apartment remains a mystery, but it seems small given how the subtle click of locks echo through the walls. Clicks are followed by a hinge creaking, and the low murmur of voices seeps through the walls.

Diego’s words are too low to decipher, but whoever he’s speaking to is like a foghorn.

“You don’t answer your phone, man!” comes the stranger’s voice. “I’ve been callin’ and callin’. Where have you been?”

Another murmur from Diego.

“Bullshit,” snaps the voice. “You don’t ignore calls from Tech, okay? Can I come in?”

Tech? What kind of name is Tech?

Curiosity and the prospect of having something to focus on other than my beaten body and fogged mind drive me painfully from the bed. I wobble once I’m on my feet, but other than a pull of nausea through my gut, the majority of my pain dulls to manageable levels.