Time stops.
The metallic scent hits the air instantly.
Holy shit!
Chapter Twenty-Two
MERCS
Beep… beep… beep…
The sound drills into my skull before I even know I’m conscious. It’s steady, mechanical, and unrelenting, like someone tapping on the inside of my brain with a hammer in perfect rhythm.
Everything feels heavy and weighted down as though I’m sinking through wet cement while trying to claw my way up through fog. There’s this strange in-between state pulling at me, half awake, half trapped in something dark and thick where nothing quite makes sense. My body tingles, but not the good kind. Not the kind that comes from adrenaline or heat or Effa’s fingers tracing over me. This is dull and electric at the same time, like my nerves are misfiring.
I try to move.
Nothing.
My brows furrow as frustration prickles through me.
I try to open my eyes.
But they feel glued shut.
There’s pressure in my left hand, and my brain struggles to place it as the beeping grows clearer and the fog thins just enough for reality to start clawing its way back in.
Come on… open.
My eyes finally cooperate.
I will them apart inch by inch, and shards of white light slice into my vision. It feels like sandpaper scraping across swollen skin, and I groan at the intrusion, my eyes puffy and sore as the weight on my chest shifts.
Effa’s head lifts from where it had been resting against me. Her eyes are red, puffy, and exhausted. She tries to smile, but it’s fragile, stretched thin over something raw, but her hand tightens around mine.
So that’s the pressure.
Her hand.
She leans closer. “Welcome back. You had me worried you weren’t going to wake up there for a while.” Her hand moves up, gently caressing my cheek, her thumb brushing carefully as she searches my face like she needs proof I’m really here.
I swallow hard. “Did he hurt y-you?” I manage, my voice cracking and hoarse, every word scraping out of me. The concern hits before anything else… not the pain, not the confusion, just her.
She shakes her head immediately. “No, but we told the police that it was a street gang, who were high and wearing balaclavas. We didn’t know them, and they came out of nowhere just looking for a fight. You told Raoul to take me while you fended them off.”
My brows pull together, and the movement sends a sharp pulse of pain through my face. “Why?”
She winces, and that alone tells me how close this came to blowing up. “If we didn’t, they were going to go after Kiera. We couldn’t risk her, Mercs.”
The knot in my stomach tightens so fast I think I might actually vomit. Pain radiates through my ribs, but it’s nothing compared to the thought of Vex anywhere near my sister.
I feel sick.
Whether it’s the trauma, the concussion, the cracked ribs, or the image of that bastard saying her name, I don’t know. All I know is I feel like death, and Vex is the reason.
“The police are going to want a statement from you now you’re awake. You’ll need to say what I just told you to corroborate what Raoul and I told them.”
I nod slowly, but the motion feels like my skull is splitting. “Okay…” I tighten my hand around hers, needing that contact, needing her. Shame creeps in, hot and bitter, and I screw up my face in annoyance at myself. “I’m sorry.”
