I’m withthem.
Regardless, I’m on some top-notch pain medication because I don’t feel a fucking thing, and I couldn’t gather up the energy to get too pissed off. I’m a few more holes greater and per one of the doctors, lucky a bullet only scraped and missed my liver, or I’d be six feet deep.
“How long have I been here?” I ask, wincing as I slowly push my body farther up the bed with my palms.
“Three days.”
I groan.
What a waste.
Obviously, I needed medical assistance, but I could be spending time elsewhere—AKA at the crib. I’m tired of different nurses coming into the room, all with contrasting looks on their faces. From the empathic half-smiles to the semi-glowers of my injuries, I’ve been judged left and right, and I’m ready to get the hell out.
“You gonna tell me where she is, or do I need to beg for it?”
Ozzy drops his gaze as I watch his grave expression continue and it just irks the living fuck out of me.
He’s not here just to visit.
He’s here to tell me something.
We haven’t spoken since he stabbed me after I admitted what I did to Bay.
And, honestly, I haven’t sought him out, either.
Not because I was scared but because we’ve both been making some pretty rash decisions, and one of us is going to wind up dead.
I’m almost thinking Ozzy might have been disappointed I’m still here. But I am his brother-cousin, after all. He might not trust me, but he’ll need to get over it.
We’re family.
“Home.”
“How is she?” Ozzy gives a weak shake of his head and I’m sure Cairo is having a fucking field day right now with the way her boy got lit up. “That good, huh?”
“She killed that girl.”
I swear my heart stops beating at those four random-ass words. It doesn’t register because it doesn’t fit.
Bay is capable of many fucking things but— “Whatgirl?”
His dark blues latch onto mine. “Nessa.”
“The blonde from the races?” He nods but offers nothing more, and I’m more confused now than I was two seconds ago. “When?”
“Last night.”
“Why?”
My cousin clasps his inked fingers together in front of him and directs his solemn scrutiny at me. “De Leon.”
What in the actual fuck is going on out there?
I begin to swing my feet around, temporarily forgetting my injuries and instantly regretting moving.
So much for pain meds.
A sharp pull tears through my gut and reminds me of my stitches. Of the injuries I suffered, mainly because of Levi Wallace.
