“Stay away from me!” he shouted, voice packed with terror and confusion. He cowered against the head of the bed and the IV line pulled tight.
Panic punched me firmly in the chest, replacing whatever warmth I’d felt about seeing him wake, and I floundered, mind spinning in a million different directions. What had I done to make him scared of me?
“Pet, you’re going to hurt yourself! Stop!” The authority I tried to instill in my voice failed, leaving a wavering concern that made me feel weak and small.
“Get away,” he yelled, yanking at the IV line until he’d managed to tear it from his arm. He scrambled out of the bed and retreated from me until his back was pressed against the wall, face tight in horror. “I said get away! Leave me alone!”
I faltered. Hand outstretched. Heart cracking into pieces where it lay broken in my chest. Was this how I died? From heartbreak? Certainly felt like it.
I focused on the door and raised my voice. “Goodheart! Someone get in herenow.”
Conall slid down the wall, his entire body trembling as tears trailed down his cheeks. He sobbed in a way I’d never heard from him, and he buried his face in his knees as he started rocking. Blood oozed from his arm where he’d yanked out the IV line and the sight made my stomach churn and bile rise in my throat.
He held out a palm. “Please, go away. Leave me alone. Leave me the fuck alone. I don’t want you here.”
“Conall,” I whispered, desperation thick in the one word. I stepped forward, and he sobbed harder. “Pet, it’s me.”
“Lies. You’re lying.” His rocking grew more intense. “It’s not Sloan. It’s not. Dad’s here. He wants to kill me. Finish the job.” He pounded his fists against his knees, his hospital gown riding up his thighs. “I don’t want to die. I don’t. I want Sloan. I want my boss.”
I gritted my teeth and reached for him, but he flinched away from me again. “Pet, I’m right here. Look at me.”
“No, no, no, no.” He slammed the heels of his palms against his head again and again. I jerked forward to grab his wrists so he didn’t hurt himself. He screamed louder as two nurses and Goodheart ran into the room.
“Let me go!” Conall kicked me in the leg, and my knee gave out, nearly forcing me to the floor, but I managed to catch myself in time. The nurses rushed forward, grabbing his arms while Goodheart threw out orders for them to hold him as he opened a drawer on a silver medical cart beside the bed to pull out a needle and full vial. He fed the liquid into the syringe, then hurried over to Conall and stabbed the sharp end into the muscleof his arm. He pressed down the plunger, emptying whatever meds he had inside.
Agony lanced through me, the feeling of being powerless driving a blade into my heart. I did this. If I’d been at home, I could’ve made sure Conall saw someone earlier.
Conall went limp, his breathing evening out as his head flopped to the side. When the nurses went to move him, I snarled at them. They froze as I shoved them out of the way and hooked one arm beneath Conall’s knees and one under his back so I could lift him.
He groaned, and I shushed him quietly as I laid him back on the bed. I pressed a kiss to his forehead, and he shivered, mumbling, “No, don’t kill me.”
“I’ll never hurt you, Pet. Never.” Once I had him situated, I pulled up the blankets.
One of the nurses cleared her throat. “May I please reinsert his IV, sir?”
I gave her a curt nod, grinding my teeth as I stepped back to give her room. Rage coiled tight inside my stomach and the wall I’d built to keep my emotions in check fractured and splintered until my control snapped. I spun toward Goodheart and grasped his neck, shoving his back against the wall where Conall had been.
One of the nurses gasped, but I ignored her as I tightened my fingers around Goodheart’s throat, causing a choked breath to escape his parted lips.
“Why isn’t he better?” I growled out angrily. “He’s getting sicker, Goodheart. You told me you’dfixhim.”
Goodheart gagged as I pressed my fingers into his windpipe, unbridled anger boiling my blood and making me see red.
The door to Conall’s room flung open, and I jerked my gaze toward it, ready to fight anyone else who came near Conall.
Fionn stepped in with Daire at his back. He gaped at me.
“Uncle Sloan, stop.” It wasn’t an order, rather a request said in a calm tone. I was the one who’d taught him to speak with confidence and refinement, yet I couldn’t control the urge to kill anyone who hurt Conall, who couldn’t make him healthy again.
“Sloan....” Daire stepped forward, not close enough to touch me but still beside me. “Killing Goodheart won’t help, sir.”
I disagreed. His death would certainly make me feel better.
“Sloan.” Conall’s soft voice filled the room, pleading. “Sloan, I want Sloan.”
I released Goodheart immediately, and he slid to the floor, coughing. I crossed to the bed, pushing one of the nurses out of the way. Sitting on the edge, I brushed a piece of his dark hair off his face, taking in his fluttering eyelashes that struggled to stay open.
“I’m right here, Pet. I’m not going anywhere.”
