I started rifling through Wells' cabinets, looking for a first aid kit. This wasn't the kind of doctor's office that would be useful to Evie's minor wounds, but even a lab would have— "Got it." I pulled a red kit out from under one of the sinks and brought it back to where Evie was sitting up and arguing with Wells.
"… don't need protection. I'll just stay home until it blows over," she was saying.
I wasn't sure how well Nash knew this woman, but by the way he was politely going back and forth with her, keeping his distance, and pushing for her to involve the police, I had to assume they were acquaintances at best. He confirmed that for me when he paced away and rubbed his forehead. "I can't insist on anything on your behalf, of course, but?—"
"I'm sorry I bothered you," Evie hurried to state firmly. "I was terrified." She looked down at her arm where droplets of blood were thickening from the puncture marks, threatening to spill down her arm. "I'll just have to be careful."
Nash was going to let this woman go out of politeness. He was going to keep his distance and make sure she felt in full control of her situation even if it put her life at risk, and it was making my blood simmer angrily again. I knelt beside her, placing the kit on the ground with a loud clack. "That's absolute bullshit."
Her wide, almond eyes flew to mine in surprise. "Sorry?"
Wells smothered a laugh, turning away. I flipped open the first aid kit and took her arm in a gentle grip. "You can't ignorea threat to your life. And we're not going to ignore it on your behalf, either. No responsible person, especially two doctors, would do that. Either you accept help from the authorities or from us. You choose."
Her forehead crinkled in disbelief. "You don't even know me."
"A blessing," I smiled tightly, ripping open a gauze pad. "If I did, you'd be getting an earful."
"Here we go," Wells muttered, looking up and shaking his head.
Evie's light brown eyebrows contracted together. "You're a bit rude."
"Direct," I corrected, wiping the blood collecting on the inside of her elbow. "So, directly, I'll make an offer that you really can't refuse if you don't want me to call 911." I opened a cleansing pad and swiped it over the punctures. "I have a friend who went through something similar to this a couple of years ago. Hemighthave a contact who can help you. I can get in touch with him for you."
"Rook," Wells guessed. "Yes, Evie, that might be our only alternative. His girlfriend was assaulted—they handled it discreetly with some… alternative connections. He has a legal team at his disposal."
Evie glanced down at where my gloved hands were opening packages of bandages. Her eyes shifted away in thought. "We're private people, my family."
"Not anymore," I countered. I placed the bandages over her wounds, smoothing them so they stuck well to her skin. She met my gaze again, this time with a touch of worry in her eyes. I removed my gloves, tossing them on the ground with the gauze and wrapper, and I leaned my forearm on my knee. "Your first instinct to seek help was right, Evelyn."
Her shoulders slumped. "What will your friend do to help me?"
"I won't know until I ask," I shrugged, gathering the trash to discard. "But it's better than doing nothing."
"Frost is right," Nash said softly, adjusting his glasses. "We can't do nothing."
Evie's long fingers trailed over the bandages on her arm, and she stared at them contemplatively for a few silent moments. Finally, her shoulders rose and fell with a sigh, and she nodded. "Alright."
"Give us a little bit to make some calls," I said, standing and pulling out my phone.
She glanced at me from the ground, her legs curled up under her sunny yellow dress and hair disheveled around her narrow shoulders. She looked small and lost, marooned on an island of confusion. My chest tightened, reacting to her vulnerability in a way that was entirely foreign to me.
I didn't feel sorry for people. Not usually. Why my body was choosingherto get custodial over, I couldn't begin to guess. With a strange, pulling reluctance, I turned away from her.
Chapter Four
EVIE
I curled myself into a ball on the black leather computer chair, tucking my knees under my cheek and wrapping my arms around my shins. My long hair curtained my shoulders and face, and I squeezed my eyes shut. This strange nightmare was far too tangible, too painful, to be surreal. I'd never been attacked by anyone before. I'd never had so much as an argument with another person outside my only two family members. The heart-pounding fear, the numbing shock, the searing pain—it all raked across my psyche with dagger-sharp nails. Dimly, I could hear Dr. Wells and Dr. Frost speaking in low tones on the phone to someone.
I couldn't make myself care what they were saying. I'd reached a limit. I'd poured all my fear and my need to survive into that one moment, and now that it was over, I was drained. If someone attacked me again, would I fight back? I had the cold suspicion that I wouldn't. I drifted off into a pseudo-sleep, welcoming a blanket of darkness but still too aware of my surroundings to feel safe.
Footsteps returned to the lab, and I forced my eyes open to peer up at both doctors. They looked so different even if theywere both beautiful by conventional standards. Dr. Wells had a soothing appearance with soft, light brown hair that swooped over his forehead and kind, dark eyes. His build, tall and wide, reminded me of a lumberjack, but his glasses and gentle voice offset that.
Frost, on the other hand, embodied his last name. His eyes were glacial chips, glinting with intelligence, and every angle—his jaw, his cheekbones, his straight nose—was just as sharp as his tone. He looked handsome and put together with his tidy dark curls and designer black clothing, but there was something chaotic about him. Something barely leashed.
Benjamin folded his arms over his hard chest, considering me. "We have a semblance of a plan."
"I suppose I don't have much of a say in this plan about me?" I asked dryly.
