“Aven? Aven!”
“I’m sorry, son. I’ve tried to protect you. I’ve tried to protect all of you. Please...just wake up.”
The English accent filters through the fog. It’s somehow familiar and entirely foreign at the same time, but I follow it out of the darkness. My eyes open, and I discover a man in a white coat standing at my bedside.
When he notices my open eyes, he lowers the tablet in his hand, pulls off his glasses, and tucks them into his coat pocket. He holds his hand toward me, then pulls back when I don’t accept the handshake.
“I’m Doctor Mott, and I’ve been overseeing your care. How are you feeling?”
“Like I’ve been eaten and shit out by a bear,” I say. I make a mental note to find the owner of that voice, because it definitely isn’t this guy. He’s too high-pitched. And American. “Where’s Quinn?”
Doctor Mott checks his watch. “She stepped out to shower for the first time in three days. She’ll probably?—”
“Three days?” I fling the blanket off my lap, then hurry to cover myself when I realize I’m naked. “Where the fuck are my clothes?”
“Settle down, now. We had to drain a few of your friends to make up for all that blood you leaked into your abdomen. It’ll take some time to recover. The bullet ripped through several vessels and a couple of organs.”
“And did the bullet also take off my clothes? Ach, I’m naked as the day I was born.”
I take a deep breath and flop back on the pillows. This asshole can’t answer any of the questions I have, so I guess I’ll just have to wait for Quinn to show up. It’s not like anyone else would be waiting for me to recover. I didn’t exactly make friends like she did.
The door bursts open, and Quinn nearly breaks her ankles to get to my side once she realizes I’m conscious. She throws herself onto the bed, and I don’t even care that she’s yanked out my IV and sent blood squirting all over the pristine sheets. The doctor rushes over to slap a tourniquet on it while I use my other arm to hold the girl.
“Oh my god,” she wails. “I thought you’d never wake up!”
“And miss hearing about how you all killed Desmond? Lass, tell me he’s dead.” I brush her hair out of her face as she sits back. “Tell me you found your mother and that it was you who ended him.”
Quinn offers a sad smile, then kisses my forehead. “We found her. She was in that little closet, reduced to bones and dust, but it was her. Our DNA matches, and so do mine and Desmond’s. He’s really my father.”
“Heis? I was hoping for more of a hewas.”
“And let you miss out on the kill? Not a chance.” Her smile shifts to something happier, and she eases off the bed and starts for the door.
“Hey, where are you going?”
She pauses and looks back at me, her eyebrows pulling together. “To tell the others.”
“Others?”
“Yes, silly. Jim, King, the entire group—everyone is out there waiting for good news. Ice Pick and Grim even showed up yesterday. Everyone has been coming in shifts.”
“For me?”
“I’m not the only one who loves you, Aven.” She pulls the door closed again. “You’re just going to have to accept that.”
Aye, I will. And with open arms, at that. My days of keeping to myself are over, and I think I’m okay with that. The isolation was always a reaction to my father’s treatment. He never understood me. Never even tried. Then the people who wanted to understand me were never given the chance because I’d already closed myself off.
“There’s one more thing you need to know,” Quinn says as she steps closer, and my heart begins to hammer.
I shake my head. “I won’t hear it. Not yet. Not until we’re married.”
“Married?” Her eyes bulge, and she takes a timid step toward me. “What sort of drugs do they have you on?”
The doctor looks up from his tablet. “Morphine, mostly.”
“Thanks,” I say. “Think you could give us a little privacy?”
The doctor nods and leaves the room, and I pat the side of the bed. Like the obedient little lass she is, Quinn shuffles over and sits down.
