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“Whoever she is, it’s obvious you care a lot.”
“No shit, Sherlock,” I growl before sitting down on the edge of the bed when I begin feeling lightheaded.
“Ah...starting to regret it now?”
“Hardly,” I grit, “how much more does she need?”
“More,” the doctor replies and I nod, clenching my jaw and stroke Skyla over the head again. Whatever she needs...
After a while the procedure seems to be over. The doctor patches both of us up and packs his bag. “Are you paying cash?” he asks, clearly thinking he’s getting out of this situation with his life intact.
But it’s too risky. He’s seen my face. He knows my name.
On top of it he was late. He allowed Skyla to wait, fighting for her life.
But maybe...just maybe I could make an exception this one time. He did save her after all.
Screwing up his nose, the doctor says, “I hope it was worth it. All this trouble for one woman.” A look of disgust floods his face. “If you ask me there are better things to spend money and effort on.”
That settles it then. “I’m not asking,” I groan, reaching for the gun in my back pocket and shoot.
The sound of the bullet booms in the apartment and I glare at the floor where the doctor lies lifeless.
Later. I’ll clean up later.
Trying to take up as little space as possible, I lay my head down next to Skyla and put my hand on top of the heart. The beat comforts me.
And I know I no longer dance to the beat of my own drum. I dance to hers.
4.
Skyla
It feels like I’m running through a dark tunnel. There’s light at the end and I’m not sure if I’ll be able to reach it. I’m tired but then I hear someone calling my name.
It’s a male’s voice. Deep and baritone and it wraps around me like a second skin, an armor that I can use for when things get rough, a shield I can lean on and rely on.
I’ve never been able to rely on much in my life and I reach for that voice, wanting its owner so bad...
My eyes flash and I gasp. I’m not on the streets anymore and I’m definitely not cold. I’ve been buried under so many blankets, I can barely move and the corners of my lip curl at the thoughtfulness.
“Phantom?” I croak, looking around and my eyes land on a glass of water and I drink some of it. “Phantom?” I call in a louder tone and to my relief he appears. His hair hangs to the side down his shoulder and he brims with an energy that makes me want to spread my legs despite of the weak state I’m in.
He’s the most powerful male I’ve ever seen. His arms are the magnitude of canoes, his height daunting and I have a feeling he gets his t-shirts tailor-made because there’s just no way they come in his size.
He stops in his tracks when he sees that I’ve awakened, his eyes flooding with a relief so strong I nearly burst into tears. Our connection is so strong that it sets of little trembles in my body, makes my teeth chatter until I’m forced to clench my jaw.
“Skyla...,” he whispers, his voice coated with veneration and he makes me feel gilded. “Angel, I’m so happy you’re okay.” A shudder moves through his body and he drags a breath before walking over to me. “Anything you need?”
He’s so ready to be of service it’s confusing. A man like him looks like he should be the opposite but it’s like he can’t be that way with me. Me, he wants to serve. And I feel like a queen sitting in a throne and not a gunshot girl in a bed.
“I’m itchy,” I murmur and he raises his brows in question, “on my back.”
“That’s the bandage, baby. You gotta keep it on. Doctor’s orders.”
I kick with my legs to prove my frustration, pouting but he refuses to budge and I sigh. “At least help me get out of bed.”
He shakes his head. “You’re hurt and I’m scared of moving you.”
