Page 40 of Sparrow

It’s never any use. I can’t do it.

But I know my father can.

I also know it’s one of the reasons he doesn’t like me.

Because I may look like my mother, but in his mind, I don’t measure up to her. I never did, and I never will.

He wishes I was the one who died instead of her, and he’s never hidden that.

My hand clenches on the bottle of medicine and I push that thought away, reaching again for the deep calm my doctor tried to teach me about. I sink down into myself, searching for the quiet space within me where I can better control my anxiety, and after several seconds of careful breathing—five and five this time, rather than the tricky four and six—I find it. A calm comes over me and I tell my heart calmly to beat the way it’s supposed to. I focus on forcing it to slow down, to even out, and to get into the right rhythm.

I fixate on the medicine bottle in my hand and promise my heart that if it’s good, I’ll start taking my medicine again.

And it works. My heart skitters, skips, and then suddenly relaxes, like a fist that has stopped squeezing. It starts to beat the right way, and relief floods my body. My panic subsides.

My mind comes back online.

It tells me that I should let Mars know what’s going on. He would help me. I know he would. He’d find me a doctor and make sure I had enough medicine to get through. Orion would probably protect me with his own body if he found out.

But I’d have to risk both of them looking at me like I’m more trouble than I’m worth.

Like I’m a broken bird in need of rescuing. Or like I should pay more for my chance to stay here.

I don’t want any of that. I’m sick to death of people looking at me like I’m broken or can’t take care of myself.

And though I know it’s not fair to myself or to the men I’m coming to care for, I also know that I won’t tell them;.

Because this is a secret that belongs only to me, and they don’t need to worry about it.

I wait until my heart has been calm for several minutes, then push myself to my feet and leave the bathroom. I don’t want to go back downstairs yet, but I do want some fresh air. As I walk toward the window, I hear the sound of motorcycle engines outside, and smile a bit. More of the club coming to the garage, I suspect. At some point I need to sit down and make a list of all the men. Learn their names and what they do in their everyday lives.

Start to make friends with them.

Then, though, the sound keeps going. It doesn’t stop at the garage like I expected. Instead, they sound like they stop somewhere down the street.

Which seems… wrong.

I get to the window and brush the curtains aside to see that the bikers have indeed stopped down the block, in the parking lot of the diner. They aren’t ours, either. They’re not wearing the leathers of the Black Oaks, Mars’ band of misfits.

Instead, they’re dressed all in black.

The Iron Saints.

The gang that owns the compound where I was being held.

I still don’t understand what they have to do with my kidnapping, or if they’re part of it at all, but I can’t shake the feeling that they’re involved somehow. After all, my guard put me on their property. I don’t know why they haven’t come after me directly—challenged Mars over him having taken their prisoner—but the whole thing feels like the town is waiting to exhale.

Like there’s trouble brewing, only no one is looking at it yet.

I lean out the window and stare at the bikers, wondering, and then abruptly realizing that they’re staring back at me.

There are four of them, and they’re all looking right at me.

I pull back sharply, breath caught in my throat. What the fuck is going on out there? Why are they just sitting in the parking lot, and why are they staring at me? Was I right that they’re going to start a war because Mars and Orion took me?

And if I was, why aren’t Mars and Orion doing anything?

I lean forward and peak around the curtain again, to see the men talking amongst themselves, their eyes still on my window.