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"Not trying," she corrected, merrily depressing the plunger and smiling at him as cool liquid hit his bloodstream. "I havedrugged you. Just that mild sedative you suggested, enough to make you sleepy. Keeping you calm and still is imperative until the doctors look at your scans and ensure there's no damage to your back."
The sky blurred, and with it, so did Ariel's pretty face. For a beautiful moment, her features morphed into Anarchy's and made his heart ache. Aside from Atticus's emphatic declaration that his kitten was being taken care of by Braun and Connie, there'd been no further news on her condition. He didn't like thinking of her being scared and in shock—he knew better than anyone how taking a life the first time suckerpunched a person in the soul.
The road vibrated with a passing vehicle. Jasper's eyes rolled toward the sound and blearily watched a two-vehicle transporter crawl past with a black Navigator and a blue sedan on board. Yellow lights flashed in warning, then it picked up speed and the quiet returned.
"How's he doing, Ariel?"
His eyes ticked back toward the voice.
"Preliminary guess is a mild concussion and spinal shock. He's regained movement in his limbs, which is good. He's going to be banged up and bruised, and he'll have a row of stitches and a scar on that leg, but unless the scans show something different, I think he'll be okay. Honestly, I've never seen anyone so damn calm."
The board he was on rose and started to move. Flying him through the dark. Jasper felt like closing his eyes, but some part of him was aware that if he did that, they wouldn't open again for a while. He just felt really sleepy, ready to fall down the rabbit hole into whatever came next.
"Calm is J's middle name. Get him to the hospital and give me an update," Atticus ordered from far away. "The cleaners are moving in now; once I've briefed them, I'll follow you in. If they need a next of kin, put my name down."
A huskier female chimed in. Jasper was sure he knew her name, but it bobbed along in front of him, out of his reach. "This isn't the first time we've pulled one of your guys from the shit, boss man. We've got everything under control, down to the cover story—he slipped and fell, gashing his leg open on a smashed bottle tossed onto the sidewalk. Landed badly, hit his back, was found in a partially paralyzed state. Ariel and I found him on our way back from break."
"That'll hold up?"
"Don't see why not. There's no overt evidence he's been in a fight; the bruising could be consistent with a fall."
The gurney jolted as it was loaded onto the rig. It was like going home, he thought, casting his blurry gaze over the shelves and equipment. His brain was trained to use everything in here to save lives. He squinted as the lights seemed to flare brighter. The two medics were snapping on the brakes of the gurney and one of them—the husky one, he thought, still unable to recall her damn name—jumped out of the rig and slammed the doors shut.
"Stop fighting the sedation, Jasper," the redhead told him over her shoulder as she rummaged through one of the cupboards. "I gave it to you for a reason, so let it do it's damn job, will you?"
His eyelids were growing heavier, but he refused to close them. Trying to speak, his tongue was far too thick to fit in his mouth. Experimentally, he stuck it out and tried to look at it. He could barely see the tip of it, but he assumed it looked normal.
"Okay then," Ariel said with amusement as she turned with monitoring pads in her hands. "I really think it's time for you to close your eyes and let the world stop spinning for a while." The rig chugged to life and the driver shouted back at Ariel, who replied with an, "All set!"
They were off. He hoped the lights were flashing on top, going round and round and round...
***
Chapter Eighteen
The wheels on the bus go round and round, round and round, round and bump...
The road she was driving on seemed to go on for eternity. Just an empty two-lane stretch of blacktop that kept coming as she reached over and flicked the radio on in the big SUV she found herself in. On either side of her was darkness, not even a tree or a bush to disturb the monotony. Her foot pressed harder on the accelerator as country music poured from the speakers.
Ahead, a man appeared in the road. Shock in his eyes, fear on his face.
Archie gripped the steering wheel harder and tried to go around him, but it was locked in position. A scream rose in her throat as the truck barreled down on the man, and he made no effort to move. Just that what the fuckexpression sliding into Oh fuck. She saw his lips form her name, heard it whisper in her head as truck met body, body met tires.
The country music beat continued, upbeat and cheerful, only the lyrics were far too familiar.
What the fuck. Oh fuck. Scream.
Onwards she travelled down the same stretch of road. The same man appeared, only this time he was bloodied and broken. The scream in her throat escaped in a panicked whine. Hands yanked at the wheel, the radio blared out her mantra, and the truck ran him over again.
And again.
And again.
Screaming, Anarchy wrenched her hands from the steering wheel and clamped them over her ears. Squeezed her eyes shut against the sight of the bloody corpse standing in front of the truck, becoming more mutilated with every repetition.
This was her punishment for becoming a murderer. This is what her hell would be for the rest of eternity.
Over the melodic mantra bleating manically from the sound system, a voice called her name. It merged into the tumultuous chaos of sound with her screams as a bassline.
