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They didn’t need access to hospitals, they had their own. Anywhere, any time. With a team of nurses and doctors and surgeons on hand who’d jump to help, it was all the more disconcerting to be in the web again.
To know the spider was closing in on me, and I was the one stupid enough to come traipsing inside.
When my knees were aching, my body trembling as the aftereffects of fear, stress, and anxiety hit me, I leaned back and away from the toilet, pushing the lever so it flushed.
As I watched my meager stomach contents disappear down the drain, I tried to get my thoughts in order.
Obeying didn’t come easily to me.
I was known for my anarchist art, known for my feelings on the current government, and my anti-populist stances. It was all well-represented in my work, for God’s sake, and my art was internationally renowned.
I’d created pieces for bigwigs. Made works of art for billionaires and corporate sharks, even a few Saudi princes.
Why?
Because I bled them for all they were worth, for every inch they’d given me to have a piece of Aela O’Neill in their homes, and that money? I gave it back to the people.
I was a modern-day Robin Hood for a reason.
I knew what it was like to be controlled, to be under someone’s thumb, and I did my best to protect anyone else from that fate.
Of course, there was no one here to help me now.
My Maid Marian was a dude lying on a hospital bed who’d loathe me the second he opened his eyes, and who’d treat me like crap.
But my fate was entwined with his.
I should have known it would bring us back together—sometimes, wishful thinking just never got you far enough away.
I clambered to my feet, and I washed my hands and face with the soap provided. It cut through a day and night’s worth of grease, but I still needed a shower badly.
Blowing out a breath as I looked in the mirror, taking in the black curls, the blue streaks that were my rebellion, the elfin face that was too weak, and the eyes that were exhausted, I shook my head and pushed myself away from the spotted mirror and the chipped sink and headed on out.
Was I surprised when a couple of goons appeared at my side?
Maybe I was.
Maybe I wasn’t.
I’d thought Brennan was giving me a semblance of control, making it look like I had a say in this, even though I didn’t.
The goons?
Proof otherwise. Proof that I wasn’t to be trusted.
Pretty smart of them.
When I cast both men a look, I saw Eoghan in the background, Dec’s younger brother, eying me.
And I knew.
He’dsent the goons.
I gritted my teeth. I was grateful that Aidan Sr. and Lena O’Donnelly weren’t here anymore. After the old man had slapped Brennan for speaking up, for telling the old man to calm down because he was freaking the staff out with his wild temper, I was grateful that they’d gone to Finn O’Grady’s apartment to get some rest. Only having to deal with my babysitters was a boon, but I still ignored Eoghan and stormed out into the street.
There was nowhere to go, nowhere to run, but I had to make sure Seamus was prepared for the future that was coming our way.
Unfortunately for me, he was a teenager.
