The space was dimly lit, just enough for me to make out the sterile white walls and the muted glow of the monitors. The steady, piercing beep of the heart monitor grated on my nerves and set my teeth on edge. The curtain was drawn back, so Rowan was immediately visible.
My heart dropped straight to my stomach.
He lay motionless on the bed, his head turned slightly to the side, eyes closed. Even in the dim light, I could see the dark, angry bruising marring his cheek and jaw. A neat line of black thread stood out on his pale face where the gash had been cleaned and stitched.
My eyes trailed lower, and I could see more bruises. The finger-shaped marks around his wrists were clear as day, as were the cuts I'd caught sight of that morning. The deeperbruising on his arms was harder to look at. He'd tried to defend himself from that fucker, at least.
The slight rise and fall of his chest was the only indication he was breathing at all. The oxygen mask fogged up with each shallow breath, and I couldn't help the wave of helplessness that crashed over me. Rowan wasn't supposed to look like this.
I lowered myself onto the edge of the bed when I felt my knees threaten to give out. My gaze never left his face, half afraid that if I looked away, he'd disappear. I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt this scared. How the hell had things come to this?
That's when I saw the dark, mottled splotches just below Rowan's jaw, wrapping partway around his neck.
My breath caught. I thought I'd spotted something under his collar earlier, but I wasn't sure. Now there was no mistaking it. That rat put his hands around Rowan's neck.
A cold wave of fury crashed over me as the visual of Marcus grabbing him by the throat flashed through my mind. My hands clenched so tightly my knuckles turned white, and I had to bite down the urge to slam my fist into the wall.
But then I noticed some of the bruises didn't look right. Their shape was wrong for a handprint. I squinted and leaned in to look closer, but I couldn't make anything out clearly.
I pulled out my phone and switched on the light. The harsh white beam cut through the dark, and I angled it carefully toward his neck.
The marks were worse than I thought. Thicker in some places. Uneven and ugly. I could make out a rough partial impression, but it took a minute to recognise it.
It looked like a ... a belt buckle?
I stared for a second longer, just to be sure. Just to hate it a little more. Then I shut off the light and shoved the phone back into my pocket. The rage didn't spike this time. It sat lowin my gut, thick and poisonous. It made my skin crawl.
He used a fucking belt. Who does that to someone they say they care about?
I looked at Rowan again, still pale and silent... And I felt sick. Sick with anger, with the fact that I didn't act sooner. That I didn't see what was going on until it was nearly too late.
I reached out, hesitated for half a second, then carefully slid my hand beneath his. His skin felt cold, but I didn't curl my fingers too tightly. As badly as I wanted to warm him up, I didn't want to hurt him worse or wake him. I just wanted him to know I was there, if he could feel it.
"Should I come back later?"
The voice made me flinch so hard I nearly fell off the bed.
I spun around, heart in my throat and ready to snap back something defensive – only to freeze when I saw who was in the doorway.
It was the officer I’d spotted near the nurses’ station. He had a shoulder braced casually against the doorframe, hands stuffed in his pockets. The neutral expression on his face didn't look hostile. But my stomach still dropped.
Why was an officer here?
My eyes flicked between him and Rowan. No one else knew the situation. No one else knew about Marcus. The hospital must’ve phoned it in, and now they probably thought –
Shit.
I stood up fast, trying not to rattle the bed too much. My mouth opened, but the words kept getting caught in my throat. “Look, I didn’t – I wouldn’t – ” I glanced back at Rowan and tried to keep my voice low, but panic crept in anyway. “Whatever you’re thinking, I didn’t do this to him. You’ve got it wrong – ”
The guy threw up his hand. "Whoa, relax, Eli." His voice was calm but sounded amused. "If I thought you'd beatenthe hell out of Rowan, you'd already be in cuffs."
I froze.
He gave me another once-over, then pushed off the frame with a sigh. "Bloody hell. You don't recognise me, do you? Didn't think I changedthatmuch." He tilted his head. "Or is the badge throwing you off?"
My brain stuttered. I stared at him harder this time and tried to figure out why he was acting like he knew me.
Light brown hair that was a little too long and clearly in need of a trim. Clean-shaven. Looked about my age. Sharp jaw but not built to intimidate. His uniform fit well. Nothing familiar immediately screamed at me, but there was something about the way he carried himself. Confident and maybe a little cocky.
