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Chapter Sixty One
Blair
Iwake up slowly. Everything is foggy, but I feel like I’m flying. Hell, I feel better than I have in a long time, but something is wrong. The wisps of memory escape my grasping hands over and over. I hear murmuring voices, but I can’t seem to lock onto them to remember who they are or why they make me want to cry.
Instead, I fall back into the fog.
When it parts again, like a warm duvet peeling back, I open my eyes. My vision is white, and I’m blinded for a moment as I try to blink, the action taking more energy than it should. I try to move, but I can’t for a second, as if my body is sluggish to listen to my commands.
When it finally responds, I try to sit up, but I’m unable to, so instead I lift my head. I find Bray next to me, holding my hand as he sleeps with his head on my bed. To my left, Asher is curled into a chair with a drawing pad in his hand and pencils clutched to his chest. At the end of the bed, watching me with dark, weary eyes, is Cyrus.
“Hi,” I rasp, and that makes Bray sit up with a yelp. Asher almost falls from his chair before rushing to my side, and I start to laugh, but it ends in a cough. Asher grabs a plastic cup with a straw, and Bray raises me so I can sit up. Cyrus props pillows behind me as I sip the cool liquid.
“Not too much, baby,” Cyrus cautions as I lean back.
“Thank you,” I whisper, my voice hoarse but better, and then I frown. I check them over. They seem okay, apart from a slight smell, crinkled clothes, and their exhausted features. It stops my pounding heart, and I look around, wondering where we are. I ask as much.
The room is large, bigger than a normal hospital room. Now that I think about it, so is the bed, and the bedding around me is too thick, soft, and comfortable. There are no off-white walls either, instead they are a beautiful tan colour with golden paintings everywhere. There’s even a seating area to the left with sofas, chairs, and a table, which is placed just under the window with a view of the city. There’s an open door to a very fancy bathroom opposite me. It looks like a hotel suite.
“A private hospital,” Cyrus explains.
“Only the best care for our girl.” Bray winks, adjusting my pillows. “Comfy?”
I nod and glance around with wide eyes. Private hospital? How the rich live.
Flowers, balloons, chocolates, and more cards than I can count cover every surface. One with a dick on the front catches my eye, and I know it’s from Lexi and Allegra.
“They did a CT, X-ray, blood work, plenty of IV pain meds, and loads of other shit,” Cyrus informs me. “Apart from a small fracture, which should heal, and the wound sustained during the attack, you are physically okay.” The fact that he adds ‘physically’ makes me wince. “Faye is okay, she’s with some of the bikers, and Allegra and your friend Lexi are still in the waiting room. We tried to send them home, but they wouldn’t go. You don’t have to see them—”
“No, it’s okay,” I croak as Asher offers me another drink, holding the cup as I sip it.
“The police also want to talk to you, but not until I say so,” Cyrus says, squeezing my hand. “Only when you’re ready, not a moment before.”
I nod and swallow, wetting my lips. “He’s really dead?”
The question hangs heavily in the silence until Bray smiles. “He’s really dead. We made it look like he killed himself when he heard the police coming.”
“Police?” I frown.
“Faye had been trying to reach you. When she couldn’t and also couldn’t get us, she panicked. She rallied the whole fucking biker club and police force.”
“That’s my girl.” I grin, but it soon fades. “Am I going to go to prison?”
“What?” Asher asks.
“For killing him?”
“No, they won’t find any evidence. They are ruling it a suicide. Plus, they are just happy the manhunt is over and they can report that they stopped a mass murderer, so they really don’t care enough to investigate. Truth is, baby, you’re okay,” Cyrus promises.
“And you?” I run my eyes over them. Cyrus looks bad. His eyes are black, his broken nose is strapped, and gauze covers his cheek. Asher is favouring one shoulder, and Bray’s hands are bandaged.
“We’ve had worse,” Asher promises. “We’ll all be okay. There’s no permanent damage apart from a new scar on Cyrus’s pretty face.”
I can’t help but laugh, and even Cyrus, the grump, grins while Bray kisses my hand.
Just then there’s a knock, and a doctor hustles inside along with a nurse and a woman in a suit who introduces herself as the hospital CEO. The doctor explains my care plan, but honestly, I don’t really hear anything. I’m too overwhelmed, and luckily they notice and excuse themselves.
Bray gets me food, Cyrus makes me eat, and Asher keeps me company before another knock sounds on the door, and then a familiar head peeks around it, spots me, and rushes in.
