She blinked slowly, like she was surfacing from underwater.
“It means whatever you tell me stays between us. By law, I can’t repeat a single word. Do you understand?”
She nodded.
“I need to hear your voice, Faith.”
“I understand,” she whispered, the words barely audible.
“Good.”
I pulled out a large bandage that looked more suited for a playground scrape than … whatever this was. Standing, I visually traced the source of blood streaming from one spot high above her left ear.
When I reached toward her head, she flinched away, like I’d raised a fist.
Flinched.
Our eyes locked, and an unspoken understanding passed between us. Someone had hurt her.
Was it tonight? Or was she still poisoned by some bastard from her past?
“I won’t hurt you,” I said, forcing gentleness into my voice. “May I?”
I gestured toward her head and waited for her consent.
She nodded.
“I need to find the source of the wound,” I explained. “If you’d prefer, I can call Blake back.”
She shook her head quickly, and something warm unfurled in my chest. She trusted me. Me. More than anyone else right now.
“I’m sorry if this hurts.” I carefully moved blood-soaked strands aside, my fingers gentle against her scalp. When I pressed gauze to the wound, she hissed. “But we need to stop the bleeding.”
“Okay.” Her voice was small, childlike, and it gutted me.
The real Faith was sharp-tongued, her humor cutting enough to draw blood. You could tell her perspective on life was shaped through the clay of pain from her past. But she didn’t let it hold her down. She leaned into new friendships. She supported her brother, and most of all, she was strong as hell.
But that woman was not here right now. The woman who sat in this chair was a shell of a human.
“Faith, we’re going to need to call the police.” Her eyes flew to mine, wide with fresh terror. “But first, you have to tell me what happened. I need to know what we’re dealing with.”
She twisted her blood-coated hands in her lap, brows furrowed in concentration.
“I …” She swallowed hard. “It’s all fuzzy.”
Okay, progress.She was talking. Focus was returning to her eyes. Maybe the pain from treating the wound had started pulling her back to reality.
“Whose blood is on you, Faith? Who is hurt or injured?”
“I … I don’t know. He was lying face down. My head hurt, and I panicked.”
Fuck.
“Let’s start simple.” I kept my voice calm, clinical. “How many people are bleeding right now, Faith?”
I was careful not to say dead or dying, but,Jesus,ticktock.
“One.”
