Thirty-One
FRANCINE
Beeping.Steady, electronic beeping pierces the darkness. I try to open my eyes, but they’re so heavy, like someone’s glued them shut. Pain radiates through my entire body in waves, each pulse more intense than the last.
I can’t move. Can’t think.
All I know is the beeping and the pain, and the terrifying sensation that I’m trapped inside my own broken body.
I force my eyelids open just a crack. Blinding white light assaults me, and I immediately squeeze them shut again. Everything hurts. My chest feels like it’s being crushed under concrete blocks. My arms are heavy, immobilized. Even breathing sends daggers of pain through my ribs.
“She’s awake.”
That voice. I know that voice. Drake. The sound of it sends a ripple of warmth through my pain-soaked consciousness.
Drake is here. I’m not alone.
I try again to open my eyes, more carefully this time. The fluorescent lights above me blur into focus. I attempt to turn my head toward the voice, but something rigid holds me in place. Panic surges through me. Why can’t I move my head? Am I paralyzed?
“Thank god,” sighs Elias in the background. I can’t see him.
“Easy, Francine. Don’t try to move yet.” Drake’s face appears above me, his eyes intense with worry. Behind him, I see Rowan’s solemn face, his long dark hair pulled back in a messy bun, watching me with quiet concern.
I try to speak, but my throat feels like I’ve swallowed shattered glass. All that comes out is a dry rasp.
“Here,” Rowan says, bringing a straw to my lips. “Small sips.”
The cool water feels like heaven on my parched throat. I take another sip, then try to speak again.
“What happened?” I ask, my voice a croak.
As the words leave my lips, flashes of memory assault me. Headlights. The blare of a horn. The sickening crunch of metal. The airbag exploding in my face. My phone lighting up with Kieran’s name just before the crash.
Oh god. The baby.
My eyes fly open wide, panic seizing me. I try to reach for my stomach, but my arms won’t cooperate. They’re both in casts, strapped to my sides. No, no, no.
“You were in a car accident,” Drake explains, his hand gently touching my shoulder. “Your phone sent out an emergency alert. We came as soon as we could.”
The emergency contact list. I’d put all four alphas as my emergency contacts when I started working for them. I never changed it after Kieran fired me.
“How bad?” I whisper.
Rowan and Drake exchange a look that makes my stomach drop.
“Multiple broken ribs,” Rowan says, his quiet voice somehow making the words less harsh. “Both arms fractured. Concussion. Bruises everywhere. And a small bone in your right foot is broken.”
But what about the baby? I want to scream. I need to know if my baby is okay. But the words stick in my throat. They don’t know. They can’t know. I never told them, and now I’m terrified to ask the doctors with them standing right here.
Tears well up in my eyes, spilling over and tracking hot paths down my temples into my hair. The machines beside me start beeping faster as my heart rate increases with my distress.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Drake says, alarm flashing across his features. He moves closer, his hand covering mine carefully, where it extends below the cast. “You’re going to be alright, Francine. We’re not going anywhere.”
“We’ll be right here,” Rowan adds, his voice full of a certainty I wish I could feel. “Whatever you need.”
But they don’t understand. When I leave this hospital, I’ll be alone. Alone in my apartment with broken bones and a body that can barely move.
How will I take care of myself? How will I manage the most basic tasks? And if the baby survived, how could I possibly care for a child when I can’t even care for myself?
