Either Adrian had been lying, and I’d committed attempted murder against an innocent man... or Gage and Heath were lying, and I’d given them Adrian’s name. Knox still might die. If he did, what would the others do to me? Whether they took theirown revenge or threw me to the wolves in the legal system, I would never be free again.
If Adrian had been telling the truth about them, would they find him and silence him? But, maybe that part would be okay. It was only a first name. Like Heath had said, it might not even be arealname. I hadn’t bothered to check, because I’d been staring at a worn photo of a cherub-cheeked little girl grinning at the camera with one front tooth missing, thinking about all the things that might happen to her at the hands of evil alphas.
What if I’d been wrong?
Cedar and woodsmoke. A crooked grin.If I’m going to be bored out of my mind for three days straight, I might as well do it in nice surroundings, Knox had said, as I poured him a bourbon and slipped horse sedatives into it.
I had no idea how much time had passed, but I was still crying hysterically when Tony came back up and stuck his head in the room, looking deeply uncomfortable.
“Um,” he said. “Look, I’m really sorry, but I need to go to the hospital to stay with Knox.”
It was too much.
“Get out!” I screamed at him, my voice hoarse from sobbing and high-pitched with hysteria. “Get out,get out!”
He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I will,” he said, sounding sick at heart. “Heath is still in the house. Gage will be back after I take over at the hospital. I’m... really sorry all of this happened, Jez.”
I clenched my fists tight in the mess of blankets to keep from throwing something at him. The emotions inside me were too big; too out of control with nowhere to go.
Tony retreated, closing the door after himself. There was no telltale click of a lock, but it didn’t matter. Heath was still downstairs. He would never let me escape. I sat rocking backand forth, trying to hold everything in... until finally, I couldn’t any more.
Angry shrieks tore out of my throat as I grabbed the nearest pillow and ripped open the case, one of my fingernails tearing as it snagged—leaving a crimson smear on the cotton. Incensed, I ripped blankets and shredded cushions, screaming like a banshee as I destroyed every single piece of the nest I hadn’t made.
When that wasn’t enough, I grabbed the bed’s dusty mattress and yanked sideways with my full weight, wrestling with it until it slid off the metal bed frame. I howled out my rage and fear until I was too hoarse to make noise, the cries becoming nearly silent. My muscles burned and ached with exertion. My knees grew wobbly, and I staggered over to a bare corner to collapse on the hard floor.
Like a puppet with its strings cut, I sat crumpled and limp, with several of my torn fingernails bleeding sluggishly. I stared sightlessly at the destruction, my vision blurred and unfocused, and waited for whatever would happen next.
Hours passed. It felt like hours. There was no time up here, though. No clocks. No windows. Maybe it had only been minutes. Maybe it had been days. I told myself I didn’t care. What did it matter? I wasn’t the person I’d always told myself that I was. My life as I’d known it was as good as over.
A knock sounded at the door.
“It’s me,” came Gage’s voice. “I’ve got food. I’m coming in.”
I didn’t move.
My tears had run out at some point, leaving my eyes gritty and dry. My head pounded in sluggish agony, while my stomach flip-flopped between sour nausea and ravenous hunger.
No gun barrel led the way this time. Gage simply opened the door and walked in, a plate balanced in one hand. He stopped abruptly, his free hand still on the doorknob, and took in the carnage of pillow stuffing and shredded cloth.
Then he blinked, crossing carefully through the discarded shopping bags and destroyed soft goods to set the plate on the dresser. I’d thought about tipping that dresser over, too, so I could hear it crash to the ground and splinter... but I’d already been so exhausted I could barely stand up.
“Give me a couple of minutes to get this cleaned up,” he said without any detectable judgment in his tone. “Tony told me about you being afraid we’d drugged the food, so I’ll eat some like he did to prove it’s okay.”
I didn’t move or make a sound, but I couldn’t help the small niggle of guilt that threaded its way through my belly.
Pretending disinterest, I watched from the corner of my eye as the big alpha efficiently piled the contents of the shopping bags onto the other end of the dresser from the food. When that was done, he pulled out the largest remaining hunk of blanket, piling the other destroyed items onto it and bundling it up so he could carry it.
He shoved the bundle onto the landing outside, effortlessly returned the mattress to the bed, and went to retrieve the plate and bottle of water he’d brought.
After uncapping the water and taking a couple of deep swallows, he recapped it and set it on the floor near me. Then he retreated and ate a few bites of the food. It was a huge, double-decker burger and fries—he must have picked it up on his way here from the hospital. The smell, which had initially made my stomach rebel, abruptly flipped the invisible switch in my gut that returned me to being famished.
When he set the plate down next to the bottle and returned to sit on the bed, giving me space, I cautiously took the food and started wolfing it down.
“I’ll bring you up some more pillows and blankets,” he said, jerking his chin toward the door to indicate the remains of the nest. Then he hesitated before adding, “Do you, um... do you want to talk about it?”
I’ve done something horrible, and I don’t even know what it is yet, I didn’t say.
“No,” I told him between mouthfuls of French fries. Then it was my turn to hesitate. “Why aren’t you being awful to me?” It slipped out before I could stop it. I straightened my shoulders, bluffing my way forward. “Are you the good cop, and Heath’s the bad cop? Am I supposed to open up to you because you’re the nice one?”
