“Don’t come near me!” I staggered back, my pulse roaring in my ears as the situation hit me in full force. The car was on its roof, tyre marks scarring the slope above us. We’d driven off an embankment, rolling down the hill to settle at the bottom.
“Violet…”
“You sold me out!” I shouted, pointing at him. “They were going to… I trusted you!” My bare feet sank into wet earth, mud squelching between my toes as the cold seeped up my legs.
Ryder seemed panicked, his eyes wide, and hands up like he was facing down a pissed-off bear. “Violet, I need you to calm down.”
Calm down? Was he fucking serious?
“Fuck you!” I screeched, my entire body shaking.
Ryder shrugged out of his coat, coming around to drape it around my shoulders.
“Don’t touch me.” I jerked away.
He stopped immediately, hands dropping to his sides. “Everything’s going to be okay,” he said, but I wasn’t listening. My eyes were locked on the bartender from the Duckling leaning into the driver’s side of the wreck, gun raised.
My breathing suddenly constricted, as if my lungs had turned to cement inside my chest. Then came the distinctivepop.
Oh my God.
“Fuck,” Ryder hissed as my legs gave way, catching me before I could fall. He swept under my knees and lifted me into his arms. “Max, we’ve got to go.”
I tried to fight, to wriggle free, but his hold only locked me tighter against his chest as darkness closed in at the edges of my vision.
This couldn’t be happening. This wasn’t real…
“Easy,” Ryder murmured, his voice the last thing I heard before black finally swallowed me. “You’re okay. I’ve got you, blondie.”
Chapter 38
Violet
I jerked awake, the movement causing my head to throb as my fingers instinctively touched the bandage on my forehead. With a wince, my eyes took a moment to clear, panic rushing back as phantom metal screeched in my ears.
But I wasn’t in a car, or any moving vehicle for that matter. I wasn’t even in Ryder’s arms. I was in a room, painted in soft blues, my body covered with sheets patterned with flowers, and pillows cushioning me softly.
And I wasn’t naked.
I was wearing silk pyjama shorts and a vest.
What the fuck just happened?
Sitting up, I glanced at the bedside table, stilling when I noticed Ryder’s butterfly knife laying there beside a glass of water. I distinctly remembered the knife being taken off me, so what was…
The door handle rattled, and I immediately grabbed the knife, my arm shaking as a woman entered.
“Oh, you’re up,” a woman chirped, her smile bright as she came in and closed the door softly behind her.
I frowned, the grip on the knife cutting into my palm. My eyes tracked her across the room, watching as she glidedsmoothly over to the window and shut it with a click. My head throbbed, and lifting my hand, my fingertips brushed past the bandage to find my hair had been braided.
“Who are you?” I asked, my voice more of a croak. I coughed, glancing at the water for a second before returning my attention to the woman who’d now moved onto pulling back the curtains.
“Oh, I’m Elena,” she said gently. Her pale blonde hair was pinned up, a few loose strands framing her heart-shaped face. Her eyes reminded me of the ocean when she met mine, those same eyes widening when she noticed the weapon still clutched tightly in my palm. “I understand you’ve met my husband, Hendrix.”
My grip loosened a little, but I didn’t let it go.
“You were in an accident,” she continued gently, perching on the end of the bed. “You hit your head, but according to the doctor it’s just superficial.”
