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“Addy,” I say, slowly standing, pulling my attention from the last of his life leaving him. “Give me the gun.”
“He was…he was…he was…”
Fuck, she’s going into shock. I climb off Vincent and kneel in front of her. “Hey, look at me.” Her eyes stay glued to the body behind me. “Baby cakes, look at me.” The pet name works, and she slowly tears her eyes away. When she finally holds my gaze, I gently grab her cheeks, ignoring the searing pain in my arm. “You’re okay. We’re both okay. You did what you had to do. You understand?”
Her lips move, but she’s struggling to speak. “You—you—you’re bleeding.”
“I know.”
“I—I’m bleeding too. I—I—I think maybe too much.” And she collapses in my arms and loses consciousness as sirens blare in the distance.
Addy
I’m drowning. My arms and legs refuse to move. I sink deeper into the abyss. I suck in air, but only water fills my lungs, and I choke. My lungs spasm. My chest heaves. My body slams against the ocean floor. Tiny black images surround me. Fish. So many fish. I try to fight them, but my arms don’t move. I’m helpless. They come for me, nipping and biting at my flesh. Nip, nip, nip—
I shoot forward, clawing at my skin. “Get them off me! Get them off me!” I scream in agony at the burning pain in my arm. “They’re biting me. It hurts.” I choke on a sob.
“Hey, hey, relax. You’re going to pull out your IV.” My eyes start to adjust to the bright light, and I gasp in air. A man in a white coat is standing over me, and my hysteria returns.
“Get away from me!” I scoot back, tugging on more wires, crying out in more pain as I clutch my stomach.
“Addy, you’re safe. I’m not going to hurt you. My name is Dr. Coffman.”
Doctor? I gaze around the room, then take in my body. My arm is wrapped in a bandage. “Where am I?” I don’t understand. The fish. I was being eaten alive by fish. I squeeze my eyes shut, needing the agony of their teeth to go away.
“Addy, you’re at Northwestern Memorial Hospital. Do you remember why you were brought here?” The fish. The fish were biting me. I shake my head. “It’s okay. It’s very normal in trauma cases for your mind to protect you from your memories. Don’t rush it. They’ll return.” Trauma? What trauma. I tug at my arm, but the IV restricts me. “You have a concussion and some bruised ribs. Luckily, the bullet just grazed your bicep, so we stitched you up nicely.”
“Bullet?” I furrow my brow. “Why am I in here?” Anxious tears start to flow down my face. “Why am I in here!”
“Ahhh, she’s awake.” My eyes whip to the man who just entered my room. My mind is like a spinning wheel. I know his face. I know him. But how? “How are you feeling today, Miss Finch?”
Name.
Name.
Name—
“Agent Bishop,” my voice cracks as the first memory sparks.
“Logan. My name’s Logan. You were going to wish me a good evening.”
“You’re going to do everything I say. If you don’t, we’re both as good as fucking dead.”
“You’re a cop?”
“You wanna pretend this is fake? Then tell me this does nothing for you.”
“Where did you crawl out of before you showed up pretending to be Logan Justice’s girlfriend?”
“You—you—you’re bleeding.”
“Logan.” My voice shatters at the sound of his name. He was there. He saved me. He was bleeding. “Where’s Logan? Logan!”
He doesn’t answer me fast enough. Why isn’t he answering me! My heavy tears wash down my face blinding me. I start to panic, unable to get enough air into my lungs.
“Agent Bishop,” the doctor interrupts. “I’m not sure this is a good idea. Her mental state is still very fragile, and this stress is not healthy. May I suggest returning at a later time—?”
“No, please! I need to know! He was bleeding—why was he bleeding?”
Agent Bishop nods, guilt prominent in his sullen gaze. Without answering me, he walks out. “Answer me!” I fight the wires, pulling at my IV.
“Nurse!” the doctor yells, and seconds later, I’m being restrained.
“Please, no! I need to know! I need…to…”
“Addy, this is going to help you rest, okay?”
“Please…I need…”
My lids droop as all the fight leaves my body.
The same nightmare rouses me awake. This time, I’m more aware of my surroundings. The pain in my arm throbs, and I grunt as I attempt to sit up. My mouth is dry. I stretch for the small cup of water on the table and wince, unable to reach it.
“Here, let me help you.” A nurse walks in, grabbing the cup and handing it to me. “Nice to see you awake today. How are you feeling?”
“Today? What—how long have I been asleep?”
“Almost three days.”
My eyebrows shoot into my hairline, and my mouth drops. “Three days?”
