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The door opened, and a young doctor walked in, her eyes quickly scanning the room before settling on Storee. The doctor approached with a clipboard in her hand, a sympathetic smile on her face.
“Hello, Storee. I’m Dr. Williams. How are you feeling?” she asked.
“I’m okay,” Storee said, her voice still trembling.
Dr. Williams nodded, flipping through the pages on her clipboard. “Well, your CT scan came back clear, so that’s good news. But it looks like you’ve had quite the night. I want you to take it easy for the next few days, okay?”
Storee nodded, and the doctor scribbled something down on her clipboard before turning to me.
“Are you her father?” she asked.
I hesitated for a moment, wondering if I should continue the lie, but then decided against it. “No, I’m her… friend. Her close friend,” I said.
The doctor gave me a knowing look but didn’t say anything as she stood to leave the room. “Make sure she stays awake for the next couple of hours and keep an eye on her. If her symptoms get worse, bring her back in immediately.”
I thanked the doctor and helped Storee off the examination table, carrying her out of the clinic and toward my car. I cradled her against my chest, wondering if I’d ever be able to put her down now that I had her in my arms. She protested, but no way was I going to allow her to walk out of the clinic without any shoes on.
Once we were inside the car, I turned to her. “Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked, reaching out to brush a strand of hair out of her face.
She nodded, her eyes downcast. “I’m just embarrassed. And I’m sorry you had to come so late at night.”
I started my engine. “Stop apologizing. I told you, I hate apologies.” I pulled out onto the street, turning the direction toward my house rather than Storee’s. Before she could protest, I said, “You’re coming home with me. I need to keep an eye on you.”
“Wait. What? Locke—”
“Storee, I’m not asking. You need someone to take care of you, and that someone is me,” I said firmly, cutting off her protests. “You’re in no condition to be alone right now, and I don’t want to risk anything happening to you again.”
She sighed, but nodded her head in agreement as she leaned back against the seat. I could see the exhaustion etched on her face, and I knew that she needed rest.
I turned my attention back to the road, my mind already working on a plan to keep her safe. She had promised me she wouldn’t do The Hunt, and yet she broke her word. I should be furious.
Maybe I was.
As if reading my mind, she said, “You have every right to be mad at me.”
She fell silent, staring out the window as we drove toward my house. I knew she was still scared, still shaken up from the events of the night. But I also knew that she felt guilt for not following through on what she’d told me.
I took a deep breath, trying to calm my temper, my hand gripping the steering wheel tighter. “It’s not about being mad,” I said finally, breaking the silence. “It’s about keeping you safe.” I took another deep breath, not sure I wanted to hear the answer. “You said nothing happened, but,” I swallowed hard, “did that man succeed in The Hunt?”
She shook her head. “No. Once it started, I knew something was different. Off. So I panicked and ran. I wanted it to end.”
“You can’t end The Hunt once it starts.”
“I know. But I tried.”
“Why did you feel it was off?” I was still waiting for her to give me any reason to call my partners at The Vault and demand the execution of the fucker who’d hunted her. If she so much as gave me a hint that he’d broken protocol in the slightest, he was a dead man.
“It wasn’t like the first time I did The Hunt. I guess I wanted—” She shrugged, stopping mid-sentence, her eyes still fixed on the passing scenery outside.
We drove the rest of the way in silence, the only sound the hum of the engine and the occasional shuffling sound of Storee repositioning in her seat. When we finally pulled up to my house, I helped her out of the car and carried her inside.
As soon as we entered my living room, I pulled out a blanket and draped it around Storee’s shoulders. She looked up at me, her eyes searching mine for something that I couldn’t quite put my finger on.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
I didn’t know what to say. Instead, I guided her to the couch and sat beside her, my arm still wrapped around her shoulders. She leaned into me, and I could feel her breath coming in short, sharp gasps.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked, repeating my earlier question.
