I push to my feet. “I’m coming.”
Max starts to argue with me, and I snap out a growl. “I’m coming with you, Max. Stay here or don’t, but you’re not going to stop me.”
I’ll force food down her throat if I must. I am not letting her give up. I caught a glimpse of the real Ava the other day, and I will hold onto it with both hands, tease her and pull her chain until she comes back to us. Whatever I have to do, I’ll do it.
I’ll crawl on my knees if that’s what it takes.
Bastien starts to stand, and I snap at him. “Stay here. You’ve done enough.”
Pain flashes over my brother’s face. Nikolai shoots me a disapproving glare, but I ignore it as I leave the kitchen. Max catches up to me as I reach her door.
“Luc,” Max grabs my arm as I raise it to knock. “We need to be careful here. We don’t know what condition she’s in. Just take it easy.”
I force out a sharp nod as I rap my knuckles on the door.
“Ava?” Max calls out. “It’s Max and Luc. Can we come in?”
There’s no response from inside, and the worry in my chest morphs to full-blown panic.
ChapterTwenty-Nine
Max
Luc rattles the handle, but it’s locked.
He doesn’t miss a beat. Lifting his foot, he slams it against the door. It shudders, and a crack appears in the wood. He kicks it again and makes a gap that he puts his arm through to unlatch the door.
He disappears inside and I follow, choking on the harsh scent that fills the room.
Burnt, acrid vanilla stings my nose, making my eyes water.
Luc and I exchange a glance, the panic in his expression clear to see. He moves across the room, ignoring the empty bed. There’s a twinge in my chest as I stare at the untouched covers.
How did we get this so fucking wrong?
Luc emerges from the bathroom, shaking his head.
“Not there,” he says sharply.
I scan the empty room, my eyes moving to the window before—
It takes me a split second to reach the small figure huddled in the corner of the room, lifting her into my arms. Luc drops to his knees next to me, his breathing ragged.
“Ava? Sweetheart? Can you hear me?”
Her hazel eyes are open and completely blank, the expression I saw in them just a few days ago completely gone. Her limbs hang down limply, dangling like a ragdoll. My hands tremble as I frantically check her vital signs.
“Her pulse is slower than it should be. I need to check her blood pressure.”
Luc is frozen next to me. “Luc,” I snap. “Sit against the wall. I need you to hold her up.”
Luc scrambles to where I direct him, and we gently maneuver Ava into his lap. Her head lolls to the side, and Luc stares down at her with terror on his face.
“Max,” he whispers. “What’s wrong with her?”
“Shock, possibly.” PTSD, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, more likely. I pull out the blood pressure cuff and wrap it around her arm. Pumping it, I watch her face for any reaction.
Her eyes don’t even flicker.
