HARPER-RAYN
The subtle beep of the heart rate monitor fills my ears as consciousness streams back in full color. My eyes spring open to the clinical hospital room as a frantic gasp escapes my throat.
Memories of lying on the dirty concrete assault my mind as the rhythmic dinging continues, reflecting the fear pounding through my veins.
“Whoa,” a familiar voice says as comforting hands come down over me, one resting on my upper arm, the other so gentle against my waist. “You’re okay, doll. I’ve got you.”
My gaze flicks to Knight’s, my hand immediately coming up and clutching his where it lingers on my upper arm. My nails claw into his skin, my chest heaving as I remember my last moments of consciousness in the parking garage. The image of a masked man plunging his knife into my waist blazes through my mind, terrorizing every breath I take.
Tears fill my eyes, and Knight leans over me. His strong forearm is braced on the pillow beside my cheek as his dark gaze lingers just above mine, his lips barely a breath away. “Focus on me, doll. It’s just us,” he tells me. “I’ve got you. You’re safe.”
My hands tremble as I reach up and touch the side of his face, taking slow, deep breaths as the fear fades from my system. Knight drops his forehead over mine. “You’re okay,” he whispers, and I can’t help but wonder if it’s me or him who needs to hear the words more. “You’re okay. Nothing’s going to hurt you now.”
Tears fall from my eyes, cascading down the sides of my cheeks and soaking into the pillow. Without hesitation, Knight slips into the hospital bed beside me and gently pulls me into his strong arms, holding me against his warm chest as the tears run their course.
“I-I’m sorry,” I try to get out past the heaving cries. “I tried to . . . I tried, but I—”
“Shhhh,” he soothes, his hand circling my back. “It’s okay. You’re alive and in my arms, and that’s all that matters.”
Every horrid second of the attack assaults my mind, playing on a constant loop and refusing to fade, even after the tears have finally begun to dry up and my loud, gasping heaves have morphed into gentle, shaky breaths.
I lie in Knight’s embrace, soaking up every ounce of warmth and safety he offers, and despite knowing that nothing will ever hurt me while I’m in his arms, the fear never completely fades from my chest. How could it, when this wasn’t just some random attack?
Whoever this asshole is, dressed up as the stalker who tormented my mind for months, the stalker who literally drove me insane and stole every ounce of my peace. He inflicted fear in me that I’ve never dared to feel in my whole life. And now, the man who stood across from me in that parking garage has theaudacity to take that fear and use it as a device to torment me further.
He stole the notes from my therapist, took the drawing of his mask, and brought it to life for the sole purpose of hurting me.
How am I ever supposed to be okay with this? But more than that, how am I ever supposed to make it stop? He’s only just started, and fuck, he started off with a bang. He won’t stop until I’m dead. What happened today is more than proof of that.
I’m a pawn to him. A chess piece to be used in his sick little game, and there’s not a goddamn thing I can do about it. I don’t know a thing about him. I don’t know what he looks like hiding beneath that mask. I don’t know his name. His endgame. Nothing. All I know is that the eyes I saw behind that mask belonged to the fucking devil.
Seconds turn into minutes as my body slowly begins to calm, and as if sensing that the ugliness has finally run its course, Knight’s hand shifts from my back and clasps my arm, squeezing gently. “How’re you doing, doll?” he murmurs into the silence, dropping his chin and pressing his warm lips to my temple.
I swallow over the growing lump in my throat. “Better now,” I whisper, surprised at how level my voice sounds. “We’ve gotta stop meeting like this.”
Knight laughs, his whole chest vibrating with movement and jostling me around, and despite the pain that booms through my waist, I don’t say a word, and that laughter is the best thing I’ve heard all day. “Fuck, doll. You’re damn right, we’ve gotta stop meeting like this.”
A stupid smile pulls at my lips, but it doesn’t last long before the reason why I ended up here rushes back, sucking the joy out of the moment. Something tells me that until this asshole is found and dealt with, finding joy in any moment is going to be a challenge.
My hand shifts down my body, gently feeling the heavy bandages beneath my hospital gown. “How bad is it?” I ask, terrified of what the next few weeks might look like for me.
“It’s bad,” he tells me, not bothering to mince his words or sugarcoat it. “You lost a lot of blood. Had they found you even thirty seconds later, I might have lost you.”
My hand drops to his warm chest, my fingers spreading as if to claim him as much as I possibly can. “That’ll never happen,” I tell him, lifting my gaze and offering a small smile as I try to lighten the mood, unable to fathom what he’s been through these past couple of hours. “Besides, what’s the point of me dying, anyway? You’re only going to follow me into the afterlife and drag my ass back, kicking and screaming.”
Knight rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “How the fuck do you have jokes right now?” he questions, exasperation clear in his deep tone. “You were stabbed and almost died.”
“Oh, I’m very aware.”
His gaze narrows as if sensing I still have more to say. “But?”
“But you were scared,” I say in a small tone, glancing away. “I could feel it the second I woke up, and in the way you haven’t dared to let go of me. And while I know that I need that more than you do right now . . . I don’t know. I need you to be okay, and joking feels like the easiest way to remind you that I’m still right here.”
He lets out a heavy breath, his gaze softening on mine. “I don’t want you worrying about me, doll. I can handle myself. Just focus on getting better.”
I shake my head. “You and me. It’s a two-way street, Knight. You don’t get to tell me not to worry about you. It comes with the territory,” I tell him. “Besides, you and I both know that I’m not going to be able to focus on getting better, not unless I know that you’re doing okay.”
“Then consider me perfectly fine.”
