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“You had an…accident. Don’t tell the doctors anything,” she hissed urgently. “We’ll get to the bottom of this afterwards, okay?”
“Yep.” I agreed, my senses on high alert. As high as they could be, anyway, after dragging myself out of unconsciousness. “Is there any water? My throat hurts.”
Kinslee stood. “Yeah, there’s a dispenser just outside. I’ll get you some.” As she disappeared out of the room, I noticed Weston huddled in a chair in the corner, asleep. A memory flashed through my mind—Caiden asleep in that same chair. Then…Caiden next to my bed, pulling me into his arms. Did I dream that, or did it really happen?
As if that thought had unlocked something in my mind, memory after memory came flooding back to me. Being knocked out. The cold, dark basement. My captor.
My breath caught in my throat.
I gasped. My heart rate kicked up, sending the monitor I was attached to crazy, and a nurse came rushing in. I made an effort to slow my heart rate, breathing deeply in and out, silently counting from one to ten and blocking everything else from my mind. The nurse checked my blood pressure and monitored my heart rate on the machine for a few minutes before leaving, satisfied that I was okay. Kinslee, who had appeared back in the room during my panic episode, handed me a plastic cup of water, and I drank it gratefully.
I stayed mostly silent as various doctors and nurses came in and out of the room throughout the day, running checks, asking me questions I had no answer for. Throughout it all, one of the Four was always with me, a constant, silent presence that the medical staff were unable to persuade to leave.
Eventually they agreed to let me go after a night of observation—I was okay, medically, and as a legal adult, they couldn’t keep me there any longer. Since I’d had a mild concussion, apparently, I was lectured on self-care and given a list of all the fun things I shouldn’t do in the near future—including skiing, skydiving and riding a motorbike (sorry, Zayde). Not that any of the things they mentioned to me were likely to happen, especially not now, when I had way more important priorities to worry about.
The next day, as Kinslee led me to the car where Cassius was waiting, she told me I’d been out of it for five days.
Five days.
My mind whirling, I walked next to Kinslee, almost on autopilot, her hand a gentle but firm grip on my arm. The crisp, fresh air on my face was welcome after all the time I’d spent cooped up inside.
We reached the car park, and my eyes were drawn straight to the hulking, matte-black SUV where a tall, gorgeous man with dirty-blond hair waited, casually leaning against the car door, twirling his keys around on his finger. As we approached him, a smile appeared on his face, but worry was clear in his gaze as he watched me.
Cassius.
As happy as I was to see him, and I was happy, I wished more than anything that waiting alongside him had been a certain raven-haired, brooding man with stormy eyes.
We reached the car, and Cassius moved from where he leaned against the door to draw me into a hug. “How you doing?” he murmured into my ear.
“I’m alright. Thanks, Cass.”
His voice dropped even further. “You gave us all a scare. Cade, more than anyone.”
“Sorry,” I whispered, twisting my head to look at him and giving him a wry smile. “I couldn’t really help it.”
“Don’t be sorry. Just…don’t do anything that reckless again, okay?”
“I’ll try not to.”
He tutted, shaking his head at me, and opened the passenger door. “Let’s get you home.”
I felt like an invalid as Cassius and Kinslee fussed around me, settling me into the passenger seat. Kinslee reached across me and snapped my seat belt into place, before hopping into the back of the car.
As Cassius started the engine, I pulled down the sun visor to see just how bad I looked.
Yeah. I shouldn’t have bothered looking. I groaned as I took in the greenish-yellow bruising mottling my cheek, dark against my pale skin. Stretching my neck gingerly, I examined my throat, noting that the cut was almost completely healed, just the faintest line remaining.
I twisted in my seat, meeting Kinslee’s eyes. “What happened to me?”
Silence reigned.
“Kinslee Stewart, you’d better start talking, right now.”
I wasn’t expecting her laugh, low and bitter.
“Oh, like you told me what was going on with you? Like you just decided to keep your bestie in the dark? You couldn’t fucking trust me, huh?”
Shit.
