“A Miss Wilso—” the woman starts, but I cut her off.
“On my way,” I tell her, ending the call.
I approach Hunter, my anger bubbling up as I think about how this situation might have come about. Did Sloan sneak Lio out from under Hunter’s nose? My jaw clenches as I try to contain my frustration.
I shake Hunter’s shoulder, his name escaping my lips in a gruff tone. “Hunter, wake up.”
He stirs, slowly lifting his head and blinking at me in confusion. “North? What’s going on?”
“Lio’s in the hospital,” I tell him, watching as Hunter suddenly wakes up fully, turning his head in panic to find Lio’s bed empty.
“What? How?” he exclaims as he jumps to his feet, confusion in his eyes, brows furrowing.
I don’t have time for him to gather his bearings, so I walk out of the room to find Nash, telling him over my shoulder, “She took him.”
FIFTY-THREE
“How the helldid this happen, Hunt?” North demands, his voice sharp with frustration as he holds the steering wheel in his white-knuckled grip. “You were supposed to keep an eye on him!”
I curse internally. I haven’t slept a wink since last night, torn between worry for Lio and doubts about Sloan’s intentions.
Is she telling the truth?
Or is she really that ruthless?
I tense up and begin to explain, “I didn’t?—”
Before I can finish, Nash interrupts, his voice firm and commanding like I’ve never heard it before, “Enough! We need to focus on getting to the hospital right now. Blaming each other won’t help Lio.”
Nash’s words hit home, and I grit my teeth, realizing he’s right. We can sort out the details later, but right now, our priority is Lio.
The BMW screeches to a halt in front of the hospital entrance. We all rush out of the car and race toward the reception desk, where I’m the first to speak. “We’re here for Lio Jones. Can you tell us which room he’s in?” I ask the receptionist, my voice strained with worry.
The receptionist quickly checks her computer and relays the room number. Without wasting another moment, we hurry down the corridor, our footsteps echoing in the sterile environment.
Room 207.
As we enter, we’re met with the sight of Lio lying in the hospital bed, pale and frail. Sloan sits beside him, holding his small hand in hers, her face etched with concern. A doctor stands before them. His expression is professional but sympathetic as he turns to us.
Nash approaches the doctor. “We’re Lio’s family. What’s happened?”
The doctor takes a moment to assess us, then asks, “Who is Lio’s father?”
North steps forward and replies, “Me, I’m his father.”
The doctor nods, reaching out his hand to North to shake. “I’m Dr. Mitchell.” He proceeds to explain, “I was already in contact with your primary care physician, Dr. Nandes, about Lio’s condition. Unfortunately, it seems that we misdiagnosed him. We were able to run some tests, and since Miss Wilson informed us about the hereditary disorder, it was thankfully easy to look for the right things. Finding those old records from his grandfather must have been a relief after all the uncertainty of why he is constantly worsening.”
I shoot a glance at Sloan, who is already looking at me but quickly averts her eyes to Lio when I catch her staring.
Old records?
Well, she couldn’t have told the doctor the same thing she told us, could she?
That a ghost told her that? The ghost of mybest friend.
He would have pegged her as crazy.
Just like I did.
