Just a few tugs and I?—
Click.
The sound of a gun freezes me.
Through watery eyes, I see him.
Kosta.
Lounging in a chair outside the bars, legs stretched out, a gun balanced casually in his hand, pointed right at me.
“Don’t touch that IV,” he says, voice raw like the edges of cut glass.
My hand drops.
“Good girl.” He leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “That’s medication. To help you get better from the fall.”
“But…” My voice comes out shredded. “Why is my head fuzzy?”
“We put your meds in there.” He grins. “Get used to it.”
This is how they’re drugging me.
A door cranks open somewhere down the corridor, and I hear the sharp click of heels.
“Mr. Black, it’s about time. I sent for you an hour ago,” a woman’s voice, low and urgent, hisses. “Your daughter has severe hypothermia. She needs a hospital and out of that disgusting cell.”
The woman must be a nurse, and I pray my father respects her medical advice.
“Fallon stays right here,” my father’s voice answers, cold and flat. “Treat her here. If she dies, so do you.”
My breath catches.No, don’t let me die.
The nurse’s mouth snaps shut. She tugs at frayed hair like she’s been here all night. “Yes, Mr. Black.” Her heels click away down the corridor.
“No. Wait.” I squash any further protest when I see my father standing on the other side of the barred door.
Then Rhys appears next to him. My heart stops and starts again in a frantic stutter. Tears nearly explode out of me. He’s still here. He’ll take me home.
He’s silent in his black overcoat, and his eyes are no longer golden like the sun. They’re obsidian.
“Rhys,” I whisper and try to push up, but my arms give out. I sag back into the mattress, the chain at my ankle rattling. “You’re here,” I breathe. “Please take me home.”
His face doesn’t change at my plea. With no smile or warmth, he rasps, “Why is she locked up?”
“She tried to kill herself,” my father replies. “Jumped out the goddamn window. Those chains are for her protection.”
“Let me inside,” Rhys says. “I want to say a proper goodbye.”
No!
“Rhys,” I cry softly.
“Let him,” Kosta drawls, stretching. “I need to take a piss. She’s not going anywhere.” He proudly pokes at my ankle chain through the bars like I’m a prized reindeer.
“You got two minutes to say goodbye, Quinlan,” my father steps aside. “One second more and you’ll be locked in the next cell over.”
“And you can listen to me erase your memory from her head,” Kosta cackles in his ear.
