Fucking right off back to her father, I hope.
I push her door open without knocking. She’s snoring, a face mask turning her face a garish shade of green. I pull it closed without waking her, having no desire to bring that bitch into this discussion.
Shaking my head at Tristan, I watch as he starts to pace. “We’ve checked every room. Where can she be?”
Jax calls out. “We haven’t checked everywhere.”
His hand is on the door that leads up to the attic, and Tristan scowls. “We haven’t been up there in years.”
Logan sticks his head in as Jax opens the door, pulling back with a cough. “Well, someone has. There’re footprints going up.”
I’m pushing past him as the words register, Tristan close behind me as we thunder up the rickety wooden stairs, pushing cobwebs and fuck knows what out of the way.
My heart constricts.What are you doing up here, baby?
33
JAX
Gray’s shout spurs me on, my feet hitting the stairs harder with every step as I follow behind Logan.
What the fuck is she doing up here?
Pushing into the low space, I take in the scene in front of me. Tristan and Gray are on their knees, Tristan leant over Sienna where she lies still on a shitty old mattress.
Too still.
“Is she—” I can’t grasp the words.
“She’s breathing,” Tristan says shortly. Pulling myself together, I drop down next to Gray and scan her. She looks so damned small lying there, her eyes closed, blue veins tracing the pale skin. Even her lips look too pale.
My eyes catch on her leg, and I reach out, carefully rolling up her pants until the bandage is exposed. Peeling it away, I flinch back as Gray growls, low and furious next to me.
The angry gash is so dark it’s almost black, little tendrils of darkness running down and into her leg.
“Fuck, Sienna!”
Her head lolls in Tristan’s grip as he lifts her, his face ashen.
“Call Health Elio,” he says urgently. “Now, Jax.”
Tearing my eyes away, I fly down the stairs to my phone, dialing the number of the Health Councilor with shaking fingers. The tone bleeps in my ear and I curse, starting again.
Come on, Elio. Pick up the fucking phone.
Tristan sweeps past me with our Soul Bonded clasped tightly in his arms, Gray following a step behind. I move after them as Elio’s housekeeper picks up the phone.
“Emergency,” I growl. “Cohen house. We have an omega with blood poisoning.”
Seconds later, Elio’s voice comes on the line, shooting questions at me.
“No…I don’t know.” My lips feel numb as I watch them stripping away the stained cloth on her leg. “She cut her leg a few days ago—”
“Four days ago,” Logan interrupts, his voice hoarse. He’s followed me in but he’s standing well back, his face pale as his eyes sweep over Sienna’s too-still form. “She cut her leg four days ago.”
“You should’ve told us it was this bad,” Gray growls, and Logan flinches.
“Four days,” I say to Elio. “Come now, please. She’s not waking up.”
