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Grayson’s stormy eyes bore into mine, and he holds my gaze for just a second longer than necessary, telling me so much with his silent stare.
I shift my gaze up to the shadow hovering in the doorway and instantly get hit with Carver’s shattered stare. There’s no other way to put it—he looks like shit. Carver’s chin that’s usually raised with power is down, his eyes that usually shine with strength are broken, and his heart that is usually locked so far away that not even he knows what it wants is sitting out on his sleeve for the world to see.
He blames himself for this. He was strong for me in the ambulance and gave me exactly what I needed to keep myself fighting, but now … now he’s nothing but a broken man completely overwhelmed by guilt.
I have to fix this, but how? Telling him that I don’t blame him is going to do nothing. He’ll listen to me, but he won’t hear me. Carver is just like me. He’s a stubborn asshole who listens only to himself, and right now, he’s determined to believe that he’s responsible for nearly killing me. He doesn’t give a shit that there was a crazy woman standing behind me with a knife to my throat, he doesn’t care that had he not made a move, she would have slit my throat with one quick flick of her wrist, and he doesn’t care that this is all on her. To him, all that matters is that it was his bullet that put me in this bed.
The urge to get up and go to him pulses through me and I try to sit up, only King and Cruz are there, shoving my shoulders back to the bed. “Whoa, baby, don’t fucking move,” Cruz orders. “You’re going to tear open your stitches.”
Stitches? Fuck me. How have I not even considered the hole in my abdomen right now? All that mattered was the boys, but Cruz is right. If I’m not careful, I could seriously fuck myself up again.
Not being able to handle the intensity of Carver’s stare, I look back to Cruz then flick my gaze between the three hovering around my bed. “Don’t get me wrong,” I murmur, my head pounding with every word, “any girl would be lucky to wake up with four guys fussing over her, but who … who are you?”
Cruz's eyes bug out of his head and snap to King, whose jaw drops, panic instantly spreading over his face. Grayson just narrows his eyes as Carver steps deeper into the room, watching me closer.
“What?” King breathes. “You … you don’t remember us?”
Cruz looks back at me, swallowing hard. “It’s me,” Cruz insists in a soft, encouraging tone, adding his other hand to our already held ones and squeezing it tighter, almost as though he hopes that just his touch will help to bring the memories back. “Please tell me you remember … I … I.”
A grin pulls at the side of my mouth as my eyes begin to sparkle with laughter. I don’t even get a word out before King tears his hand out of mine and flops back into his seat. “She’s fucking with us,” he announces, keeping his hard stare on mine as I hear Cruz let out a sigh of relief. “That’s a dangerous fucking game you’re playing.”
“Chill out,” I tell King, wishing I could manifest that bottle of water into my hands again. “The mood in here was going to kill me faster than any bullet could. Everyone needs to lighten up. I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine,” Grayson growls from the end of the bed. “You got shot, and you nearly bled out beneath me. You’re not about to sit there and shrug it off as though it doesn’t matter. We nearly fucking lost you today.”
“But you didn’t,” I insist, thankful as King reaches out and grabs the bottle of water, hearing the raspiness in my voice. “Do you really think I would have given up and left you all behind like that? We’ve been through so much, losing now isn’t an option. We have too much left to do, and besides, if someone is going to kill me, they’re going to have to try a shitload harder than that.”
The boys groan at the thought of our enemies attempting harder than what they already have. We’ve been through the impossible together, and honestly, I don’t know how much worse it can get. Fuck, I don’t know if we can physically survive any worse. We just suffered through a whole freaking ballroom blowing up. Though after the list of bullshit attacks we’ve made it through, surely my enemies can see that I’m not going down without a fight—none of us are.
Cruz groans and steals my attention from Grayson. “I hate how fucking blasé you’re being about this. You nearly fucking died. We almost lost you, and fuck babe, I know you like to pretend that you don’t fucking care, but we do. If you had died today … shit. I can’t even …”
