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Should I call him? What if he and Ryland are hiding out somewhere, and the noise of his phone draws attention to them? Even if he’s got it on silent, the vibration could be enough to put a spotlight on him.
Should I text? Is that better?
Before my throbbing brain has time to sort through the random panicked thoughts flitting through my head, a voice calls out from behind me.
“Ayla!”
My heart jumps in my chest, crashing against my ribs as I shove the phone back in my pocket and whirl around. The move is too fast, my muscles too uncoordinated, and I almost just keep twirling like a ballerina doing a pirouette. But then my gaze locks on the face of the man who called my name, and for the first time since I woke up, everything seems to settle around me.
The world stops spinning as I stare into a pair of blue-green eyes.
Theo.
Ryland is behind him, and the two of them break into a run as soon as our eyes meet, sprinting toward me as I stagger toward them.
Theo’s body hits mine so hard it makes stars dance in my vision and fresh pain explode in my head, but I hardly even notice. My arm goes around him, my fingers digging into the hard muscles of his back as I cling to him like a fucking life preserver.
His heart beats against my cheek as he crushes me to him in a fierce hug, and it occurs to me vaguely that I’m getting blood all over him. But I don’t fucking care, and apparently, neither does he.
“Fuck, Rose. Jesus, Fuck.” His voice is rough. “What happened to you?”
“Carson.”
The word scrapes over my vocal chords. Anger burns in my belly, I’m filled with a sudden wild impulse to run back to his body and kick his corpse until his ribs break. He might be dead, but that doesn’t undo what he did when he was alive. And I want to kill him all over again for it.
“Cars—” Theo’s voice breaks off as his body stiffens in my hold. I have a feeling he just looked over my shoulder and caught sight of the dead man on the ground. “Oh, fuck.”
“Ayla, what happened?”
Ryland’s voice is hard, and when Theo releases me from his hold, the man with dark hair and hazel eyes takes hold of my shoulders, lowering his head to meet my gaze. The tattoos creeping up his neck look more vivid than usual with the strange halo effect that still colors my vision.
I swallow. “Carson chased me and Marcus down. I thought we lost him, but he found us. We stopped for a second, just a second, and when we stepped out, he was there with a gun. He…” The words stick in my throat, mixing with the bile that’s rising into my mouth. “He shot Marcus.”
Ryland’s eyes widen, his tan skin paling. His head turns quickly as he looks at the corpse lying a few yards away, like he’s afraid he might’ve been wrong about who it belongs to. His nostrils flare, and he turns back to me, his grip on my shoulders tightening.
“Ayla, where’s Marcus?” he demands gruffly.
A hollow pit opens up in my stomach, making me feel empty and insubstantial. I reach up to grip his forearm as I shake my head.
“I… I don’t know.”
Chapter 2
My answer hangs in the air between us for a long moment, seeming to grow heavier with every second that passes.
“Is he with you? Did he find you?” I ask desperately when neither of the men speak, even though I’m sure I already know the answer. I didn’t see Marcus standing with them when they walked up, and if he’d somehow managed to make his way to them, why would they be asking me if I know where he is?
Ryland shakes his head, his eyes shuttering as his jaw sets. “No. He didn’t.”
Something about the change in his expression and the tense lines of his face makes fear creep through my veins. It’s like he’s bracing himself. Hardening himself. Putting a layer of armor around his heart so that pain can’t penetrate it.
I squeeze his forearm tighter, looking from him to Theo and back. “Then where is he? I woke up and he was gone. He was just… gone. I can’t find him, and I don’t know who killed Carson, and—”
My tongue feels like it’s growing thicker. It’s too slow and unwieldy, making it hard to form all the words that want to spew out of my mouth. But it hardly matters anyway. It won’t make any difference if I convince Ryland that Marcus should be here. He’s not, and that won’t change no matter what any of us believe. I can’t argue my way out of this awful, basic fact.
I stop talking and drag in a breath, trying to refocus my thoughts. When I speak again, I force the words to come out slowly and evenly.
“I hit my head and b
