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The minute Killian’s face darkens, I know something’s wrong. With a sinking feeling, I search for my own phone in my tote. I’d put my cell on silent before class and had forgotten to turn the sound back on again. Checking the notifications, I see Owen tried to call me several times, leaving a few texts as well. I read them quickly, my heart hammering in my chest.
“There’s been an attack.” Killian tucks his phone back into his pocket. Turning to Niccolo, he says, “Take us to St. Clare’s hospital. Right now.”
Niccolo slams on the breaks, taking a quick right that sends me into the car door. I catch myself just in time before my head hits the window. Killian reaches across me, snapping the seatbelt in place before I can even think to move.
Gripping my phone, I try not to imagine the worst. All Owen’s messages said was that my father’s headquarters had been attacked, and he’d been there. If he’d told Killian to get to the hospital, then that means he could still be alive. I’m not sure how bad the attack was, but if it put my father in the hospital, then I can assume it wasn’t minor.
“Cara.” Killian’s finger gripped my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Everything will be alright.”
“How can you say that?” I wrench away from him, curling up in the corner. I can barely breathe, my brain too preoccupied with images of my father gravely injured—or dead—to focus on anything else. “What did Owen say? How bad is it?”
Killian takes a deep breath. “I’m not sure. Owen was talking with the nurses while giving me the update, so I don’t know much. I was just told you need to get there.”
Oh, God. I pray Killian’s driver gets us there in time. If Owen needs me to get there right now, then it can’t be good. I can only assume my father was caught in the worst of it. That he’s probably laying on a gurney right now while the nurses try and save his life. That he—
“Cara,” Killian snaps. I blink, shock drawing me out of my downward spiral. “We’ll get there in time. Owen said it was a bomb, but if they took your father to the hospital then—”
“Then he might have a chance,” I breathe. I take a breath, trying to calm myself down. My fingers shake as I slip my phone back into my tote. I have to believe that my father will be alright. Because if he isn’t…then I had no idea what would happen—to my family or to me.
Killian’s man drives like the devil through the city’s streets, but I’m less concerned with my chances of dying in a car crash than I am about getting to the hospital in time. I know I have to keep a clear head. When I get there, I’ll have to be strong and show him that I can handle this. My father dying wouldn’t be surprising, especially in this world, but I’m not sure I’m ready for that. I don’t think I ever would be, no matter how much I try to at least prepare for this to happen.
Killian sits like stone beside me the entire way to the hospital. Neither of us says a word as Niccolo maneuvers around New York traffic. My heart lodges in my throat the closer we get to the hospital, and it's all I can do to stay sane. As soon as Killian’s guy pulls up to the hospital’s front doors, I bolt from the car. I can hear Killian following, ordering his man to park before meeting us inside.
I ignore him as I head straight for the nurse’s desk. “Callahan Ryan?” My hands grip the edge of the desk as the nurse types something up on the computer.
“Are you family?” she asks, eyeing me.
“His daughter.”
“He’s in room four-oh-five. Is this your husband?” The nurse glances over my shoulder appreciatively. I turn, finding Killian behind me.
“Almost husband,” he corrects, grinning. The nurse returns the smile, and I have the odd feeling of wanting to slap it right off her face.
“You two can head on up there,” she says, motioning towards the elevators.
“Thank you.” I ignore Killian as I hurry away from the front desk. I jab at the button, waiting for the elevator to arrive before turning to Killian. “Maybe you should just wait here.”
He frowns. “Why?”
“Because my father probably isn’t in a state to deal with you right now. He needs me,” I tell him shortly. “And only me.”
He snorts but shrugs, taking a step back. “We’ll be right here if you need us.” There’s a hard glint in his eye as he watches me. “You might want to ask your father why the Russians wanted him dead so badly. For both our sakes.”
I ignore him as I step inside the elevator. He doesn’t move, those gray eyes nearly drowning me as I anxiously wait for the doors to close. The slow ride up almost kills me. As soon as I hit the fourth floor, I bolt out of the elevator, searching for my father’s room. I find it quickly, immediately opening the door.
He’s there. On the bed. There’s a brace around his neck and wraps along his arms. He’s dressed in a plain blue hospital gown, a blanket covering him from the waist down. His eyes catch mine as I step through the door, shutting it softly behind me. The room is pretty standard, with a single bed tucked against the wall, surrounded by monitors. There’s one window that overlooks the city, with plain, short drapes hanging on either side. A television is hooked up in the top corner across the bed, and two chairs flank the window. The entire room smells of antiseptics and something else just as sharp I can’t identify.
“Dadaí?” I step beside the bed, setting my tote bag on the floor. “How are you feeling?”
He looks horrible. His face looks bruised and swollen, the neck brace doing nothing to improve his looks. “As well as I can be after that shite.” He coughs, though I can see a small smile on his face. I don’t know how he can find anything about this funny. “They said I’ll make it. Just a few kip burns an’ the rest. Torn ligaments in the neck, but not broken. I’ll live. Barely.” His lips quirked into a smirk.
“Da.” I shoot him a look. “What the hell happened?”
He wheezes a bit, any hint of a smile wiped from his face. “C’mere to me, lass, and listen.” I move closer, gently laying my hand over his, mindful of the bandages. “We both know what the hell happened today. The bloody Russians thought they could get one over on me.” His lip curls. “First, takin’ me daughter, now this.” He lets out a string of Irish curse words I would never dare repeat.
Killian’s warning echoes in the back of my mind. I want to know just as much as he does what the hell happened between my father and the Russians. I know there’s more to it than just the businesses going under and us looking weak.
“Dad, listen to me.” I wait for his eyes to swivel back my way. “I want to know what’s going on. All of it. The whole truth. I was just kidnapped by the Russians, and now they’ve outright attacked you. I need to know.”
