“Nursery rhyme,” I interrupt. My heart races as I try to remember what he said. “It was Hickory Dickory Dock, but he changed the words. He said something about a madman and rocks, but…he didn’t have rocks.”
Griffin strokes my upper arm, and Knox surrounds my hand in both of his. I lean into their touch as a pleasant glow softens my disquiet.
Langston looks at me intently. “Do you have any idea who this madman is that he referenced?”
“No,” I lie.
“Well, thank you for your time. I’ll get out of your hair.” Langston places his hat back on his head and stows the pen and notepad in his pocket.
Knox leads Langston back to the door, and I head upstairs to check on Noah. I peek in his room to find him out cold.
“Goodnight, little king,” I whisper as I shut the door quietly.
I almost jump out of my skin when I turn and find Griffin right behind me. My outraged whisper doesn’t properly convey my frustration. “What are you doing? You scared me half to death!” I slap his shoulder in the same spot Knox punched him earlier.
Griffin’s smirk is like gas on a flame. “We said you wouldn’t be alone.”
Waving my arms, I whisper-shout again, “We’re in my house, you dummy! You don’t need to attach yourself like a Siamese twin!”
“Agree to disagree.” Griffin snags my hand and leads me back down the stairs. We go all the way to the kitchen, where we find Knox cleaning up after dinner.
Scurrying over to help, I gather trash and dirty plates. “You didn’t have to do this.”
“It’s not a problem,” Knox says simply.
Griffin joins, and we have the kitchen clean in no time.
“Thank you for coming today.”
“You don’t need to thank us.”
Fidgeting with my hands, I contradict Griffin, “But I do. You rushed to my side and stayed with me. You fed Noah and me, you held me while I was interviewed, and…” A sob catches in my throat. “And you reached Noah in a way I haven’t been able to.”
Instead of giving me words, they give me what I’m starting to crave. Support. Griffin stands at my back and snakes his arms under mine and around my torso. Knox stands at my front and gently holds both of my hands in his, minding my stitches and bringing our hands to his chest.
When my body starts to sway, the day catching up with me, Knox releases my hands, and Griffin sweeps me into his arms. I’m too tired to argue like normal as I’m carried upstairs and to my room. I don’t even argue when Knox digs through my drawers and finds a pair of sleep shorts and an oversized tee, handing both to me and leading me to my connecting bathroom. They at least leave me alone to dress. And when I’m done, I walk out to find both of them dressed down to their boxers. I’m so tired that I can’t even appreciate the beautifully sculpted bodies in front of me.
Fatigue makes my limbs and eyelids feel heavy. I can’t even take the few steps to fall into my bed.
Knox takes me by the hand and leads me to the bed and lifts the comforter. He urges me to slide to the middle, and I comply. Knox slides in after me while Griffin lies down on my other side.
Their hands move my practically lifeless body, positioning me on my side facing Knox. Griffin wraps himself around me from behind while Knox plasters himself to my front. Their warmth is irresistible, and effortlessly, I drift away into unconsciousness surrounded by a bouquet of vetiver mixed with sea salt and bergamot.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
RAVEN
Sprinting the distance between us, I crash down to my knees. Adjusting his head so I can see his face, it’s like the rug is ripped out from under me. The feeling like I’m free falling down a dark hole racks my body.
Shaking his shoulder, tears gather in my eyes. “No. Noah, wake up.” But no matter how much I jostle him, he doesn’t wake. “Noah!”
Rolling his body all the way over, I get a better look at his injuries. The bruise on his cheek from last week has faded to a light green, but there’s fresh bruising. A necklace of purple skin mottles his neck. Blood leaks from the corner of his mouth and nose. But the most concerning wound is the large bleeding gash across his forehead.
“NOAH!”
My body curls over his. My tears mix with his blood.
“Please don’t be dead. Please don’t be dead,” I repeat over and over. Sitting up, I find my shirt wet with blood. I scan his body and realize his shirt is damp. Lifting the cloth, I find a single large stab wound in his stomach.
