“Already on it.”
I nodded in dismissal. My brother was nearly bouncing up and down in his seat beside Erel.
“I want to be the one to do it,” Thibault spat out.
I eyed Erel. He shrugged, a shining endorsement at least on his part. Was Thibault ready for this? He was not as dark andtortured as we were. Our father made certain not to repeat the same mistakes with him as he had done with Yannick and me. If anything, it romanticized our way of life in Thibault’s eyes. A trip into the dark and serious might be exactly what he needed.
I pointed a finger at him. “You fuck this up, and you’ll be relegated to a desk chair at the DV Banks marketing firm.”
“Chill, Adrien.” Thibault waved me off. “I’ll do great. You need to get laid, man.”
“Get out.”
Thibault chuckled loudly as he left the office.
“He’s not wrong,” Erel said.
I grunted. My sex life was not their concern. “You think he can do it?”
Erel nodded. “He’s good. I think he needs this. He wants to prove his worth. To you. To the Milieu.”
“He’s not like us, Erel.”
Erel and I were practically molded by the darkness. We grew up in it. We lived it permanently. Thibault just cruised on through as though riding in the back of an armored SUV all his life.
“He shouldn’t have to be.” Erel gave his armrest a double tap, then rose. “Heard the girl’s awake, and you spoke. If she’s the reason you called Persetta, then—”
“Don’t.”
“Just saying. It’s more than time to move on.” Over his shoulder on the way out, he said, “Your brother’s right. Maybe you do need a good tug and tumble.”
For good measure, I tossed a paperweight at the closing door. Erel’s resounding chuckle nearly outdid the loud thunk. They weren’t wrong. However, sex was the last thing on my mind these days.
Chapter 10
Scratch.Scratch.Idugmy head into the pillow. Too early. A whispered rustle. Some crackling. What was going on?
I gingerly turned onto my side, pausing from the pull on my bullet wound scar, and flattened the pillow over my head with one arm. I groaned. Needed more sleep. After my grueling session with the physical therapist, I wanted to sleep through tomorrow.
Scratch. Scratch. After a third drawn-out scratch, I was done.
My arm flopped to the bed, and the pillow sagged back into place. Man, those sounds were more annoying than the fly that buzzed and buzzed around the room last night.
I sucked in a deep breath, hissing from the ache in my side. Yesterday, the doctor left me a bottle of pills on the nightstand to take three times a day along with a speaking clock. I tapped the button on top. Six forty a.m. Time for some low-dosage pain pills. I popped a set of pills and gently stretched my legs out over the bedside to get up.
Like Dr. Margaux Conde and the physical therapist warned me, everything ached and was sore, but aside from some sharpdiscomfort in my side, it wasn’t too bad. Not too shabby for a bullet wound and coma survivor, though per her words, I was lucky. No organs hit, no heavy bleeds, just a minor infection she was able to treat while I was comatose. Now it was about giving the wound time to heal and forcing my muscles into action after twenty days in bed.
Maybe it was a blessing in disguise that I didn’t remember what happened to me. Dr. Conde referred me to a psychologist, but between my physical healing and whatever was going on in this madhouse, addressing my psychogenic amnesia was the least of my worries. Maybe I wouldn’t even like who I was before.
It only took me three tries to get off the bed. Each attempt tugged at my abdomen and bruised ribs worse than the one before, but I really needed to empty my poor bladder. It was fit to burst at the seams, and I’d rather fall back into a coma than use the bedpan.
I whimpered and moaned through the pain. I huffed and groaned, but I did it. I got up and out all on my lonesome. I was a strong and capable woman. My eyesight didn’t define that, nor did my lack of memories. If I had to survive on my own, I would manage, no matter what Alizé or her brother thought.
My legs burned and shook from carrying my weight, but holding the IV pole helped a little. I shuffled my way across the room as the doctor showed me yesterday after removing the catheter.
God, my body hurt. Everything throbbed. My head pulsed and protested the movement with a bout of dizziness. My ribs burned with every inhale, and my legs and side screeched if my pace was more than a footstep every five seconds.
Something creaked to my right, and I snapped my head that way. Unease sent cold shivers down my spine.It’s okay, Tessa. Be strong.I lifted my chin and steeled my voice.
