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Nurse Dina threw her hands up in the air and huffed. “Why do they always assign me to the stubborn assholes?” she muttered to herself. “Every time. For once, I'd like one of the nice, quiet, amenable patients who don't make it their mission in life to piss me off.” Still muttering, she stalked over to the nurse's station and used an intercom to contact someone. “Zach, are you in the control room? Yeah, I need someone to bring Ms. Monroe down to the recovery rooms. Yes, now.” Without waiting for an answer, she scowled at Thane. “Back to bed, Mr. Isaacson. Before I change my mind.”
“Thank you.”
“Don't thank me.” She jabbed a finger at him when he opened his mouth, then at the open doorway behind him. “Take the five minutes I'm giving you to see yourself back to bed, Mr. Isaacson.” Dina tsked at him and fussed with his IV as he painstakingly turned himself around. “I’m sure your girlfriend won’t want to see you sprawled on the floor in an assless gown.”
“She probably wouldn’t be pleased,” Thane agreed solemnly, forcing his whimpering body to take little steps, wincing as his bare feet padded on the cold tiles. Fuck, he’d forgotten he was wearing the stupid gown, andhow taxing the first few days after being cut open and stitched up could be.
“My advice would be not to exert so much energy.” The nurse chastised as she looped her arm around his waist and took some of his weight. “It’ll only take you longer to heal.”
Thane tried to keep up the pretense of fine for his own benefit, but the moment his ass hit the sheets, he let the fatigue wash through him. Fear for Connie kept him awake, his eyes on the door as Dina got him exactly where she wanted him.
When she slipped out of the room, Thane didn't mind, using the alone time to keep his fear at bay. The last time he'd seen Connie, she'd been prostrate. That beautiful body screwed up like a butterfly wings in a careless hand, bruises painting her soft skin.
His fist clenched, activating the badges of revenge in a shitstorm of pain. Had he killed Guthrie? It wasn't a great loss to the gene pool if he had, in Thane's opinion. The asshole who'd hurt Connie deserved to die for even thinking about taking what wasn't his, and for hurting the one good thing in Thane's life. Thane knew the gun had gone off—it had knocked him off his feet. But where the bullet had gone was a different question.
Jasper would have taken care of the asshole, he reminded himself. If his shot had missed the fucker, Jasper's wouldn't. One way or another, Guthrie would meet his maker and pay for the crimes he'd committed throughout his miserable life. Thane wanted to be part of the team that took Stevens down, part of the justice that would be brought down on his head. He was just as responsible for this as Guthrie, more so in fact.
The commander had obviously found power in controlling his minions. As a Dom, Thane understood the lure of such power, the sweetness of command, and how heady it was to have someone follow orders without question. But he would never use it to harm, to order ruin on another.
“Maybe we shouldn’t disturb him,” a familiar voice whispered from the doorway.
Thane crashed rudely out of his contemplative doze, jerking from his slumped position. He bit down on a yelp when his shoulder pulled, wincing as he felt the stitches pull. He turned his head to blink at the beautiful vision hesitating at the door. “Connie.”
“Glad to see you’re back in bed, resting. Dina has been pulling her hair out with your antics. Goddamn idiot.” Atticus's glare was a hard green laser, searing Thane's skin with its heat as he ushered Connie inside. “This is a recovery ward, Thane. You’re here for a reason, so keep your ass in bed and recover.”
“It’s a flesh wound,” Thane ground out. “I got shot in the shoulder, Atticus. I'm not dying. All I want is to see my girl.” He held out his hand to her, keeping his dismay off his face as he studied the mess Guthrie had made of hers. “I missed you, sugar. So damn much.”
“Sit down, little sub. You have your own doctor’s orders, remember.” Atticus guided her to the chair beside Thane’s bed. “Twenty minutes. That’s all you get for now. Both of you need rest.”
“Give us a break, would you? My last memory of Connie isn't conducive to happy thoughts.” Don't think about it. Do not go back there now. “I need to make up for the fact I couldn’t help her when she needed me.”
Atticus let his hands fall to his sides as his eyes softened into sympathy. “Brother, you went above and beyond.” He inclined his head. “Take all the time you need, I’ll handle the damn doctors.”
“Quick question, Att?”
“Sure.”
“Did I get the asshole?” Thane demanded.
“Yeah, buddy, you got him. Wasn't quick or clean, but you can get some satisfaction he died suffering. Don't know if you were aiming for his throat, but you put a nice hole in it.”
Okay, so maybe he got some satisfaction in knowing Guthrie had probably cried like a bitch before he died. If not, Thane was happy enough to imagine him doing just that.
“Did you find any dirt on Stevens?”
“Oh, we have more than dirt. Anarchy worked her butt off yesterday through the chaos. She had his life spread out on her screen before you were whisked off for surgery, and sent the data to the relevant parties last night. Commander Stevens was apprehended this morning, and the military is conducting their own investigation into his conduct.”
Thankfully, Thane was sitting down. The rush of relief was vibrant enough make him light-headed. “So it’s over. The whole sordid mess is done?”
“Your part in it is, for now. They may want you to testify if it goes to court.”
As long as Stevens couldn't harm anyone else, Thane couldn't care less if he was dangling by his ankles in some damp dungeon. The commander had damaged something precious, intending on doing harm and succeeding. He should be held accountable for his crimes.
“Look, just stay in bed so you don’t moon everyone in a ten foot radius,” Atticus said with a wry grin. “Those gowns are the bane of a patient's existence. I've had firsthand experience in dealing with angry nurses, and they are not pushovers. They will use every trick in their sneaky little book to make sure you abide by their rules. And if you don't…well, don't be surprised if you wake up with a catheter in your dick. It’s over, Thane, so just relax and focus on healing.”
Thane's pride and joy, which hadn't been erect anyway, wilted further. Even his balls tucked up. “Already pulled one of those out today, thanks. I'm not thrilled with the idea of another one going back in.” He shuddered at the thought. “I just want to spend time with Connie, I’m not going anywhere.”
“All right. Hit the button if you need help.” Atticus’s expression was grim as he went to stroke Connie’s shoulder, then seemed to think twice about doing so. In the end, he didn’t touch her, just nodded at Thane and left the room, not quite closing the door fully behind him.
