Every one of us let out a collective exhale, then Thomas grabbed the doctor's hand, shaking it violently. “Thank you. Can we see him?”
“Of course. He’s still groggy, so just for a few minutes.”
I stood along with Sean and Lacy and let them guide me to his room. I still felt like this was all a dream, shock starting to chill my bones as I thought through all the scenarios of what could have happened. What if Ro hadn’t come after me? What if Jarrid hadn’t shown up and shot Amber? What if the bullet had?—”
“Stop it,” Sean whispered. I looked over as he ran his fingers through his silver hair, the lines around his eyes making him appear older than I’d noticed before. “Nothing good ever comes from the what-ifs, Hana. Nothing. Deal with what happened, by all means, but don’t consider all the alternative ways this could have turned out. Not when you got the ending you did. Grab it, hold onto it. Don’t take it for granted.”
I sniffed away the tears I hadn’t realised were falling and rolled my shoulders to fake a confidence I didn’t feel. He held open the door, and I stepped inside to find Roman propped up by pillows, a white blanket folded neatly at his waist, his torso on show, and a large white bandage taped to the side of his neck.
“You're fired,” Sean barked as soon as he got through the door. Anger tinged his tone, but I knew it was really fear that marred his words. “I told you not to go in there.” Thomas slapped him in the chest, and Sean glared at him. “What? Too soon?”
“Not the time, Sean,” he muttered from the corner of his mouth.
“Yeah, not the time, Sean. Have a heart.” Roman’s croaky voice filled the room, and I almost started crying again. He prised open one eye and fixed it on Sean. “I was shot, you know. You can’t fire me.”
“Oh God, how long will you use the ‘I’ve been shot’ sob story?” Lacy interjected with a smile. “We’ve all been shot.”
“I haven’t,” replied Thomas.
Sean spun to face him. “Erm, yes, you have. In the shoulder when you were trying to save your wife, remember?”
Thomas batted the air. “Tsk, flesh wound, that’s all. Doesn’t count.”
Ro coughed, and I wasn’t sure if he was trying to ease the argument brewing between the two men or was in pain, but it silenced them both.
“Where’s Jarrid?” Roman asked with a panicked look on his face.
“AWOL,” Thomas explained. “He shot Amber just as she fired her gun. He probably saved your life; knocked her aim off a fraction.”
Roman’s face paled. “Fuck.”
No one spoke for a few minutes, and my hands twisted in front of me. Roman hadn’t even acknowledged me, and why would he? I was the reason this all happened, and it was no wonder he was pissed. The room suddenly felt too small—the walls closing in, the air too thick to fill my lungs. I turned, placing my hand on the door, needing to get out of here.
“Where do you think you’re going, little menace?”
I glanced back over my shoulder, a sigh slipping from my lips as I let my eyes linger on Roman. Even in the hospital after being shot in the neck, the man was a thing of beauty—his bad boy physique housing his massive, kind heart. A heart I selfishly longed to beat for me.
“I should go. You got hurt because of me. I’m going to hand myself in to the police.” I’d made the decision while I waited for news about Roman. All the time there was evidence out there about what I’d done, the people around me were at risk. I wasn’t doing that to anyone else. “There’s all the evidence Preston collected on me. I need to do what’s right.”
“What evidence?” Ro asked, his lips curling into a soft smile.
“The files… you’ve seen them.”
He raised his brow. “I wiped them.”
I turned round to face him properly, grabbing the end of the bed to keep me upright. “What?”
“I wiped them. Well, Lev and Wren did it for me, but we wiped any involvement you had. We all agreed.” He pointed to the other people in the room. “You were never involved in any of it. We also set up a digital alibi for you so you can’t be linked back to any of them. Bank statements, CCTV of you being elsewhere. You lived with Preston, but you moved out at eighteen, and you never spoke to him again.”
“But why? Why would you do that?” My voice was barely a whisper, emotion stealing the volume from my question.
Roman eyeballed everyone, keeping his injured neck perfectly still. “Can we have a few minutes?”
66
ROMAN
Once we were alone,I shifted, trying not to let Hana see how much it hurt to move. I patted the bed next to me, and she walked over, tentatively leaning her arse on the edge. I tutted.
