18
TEX
Iwoke up with a crick in my neck and the taste of bad hospital coffee still lingering on my tongue.
For a second I didn’t know where I was, and then the smell hit me.
Antiseptic and bleach, and that sterile hospital scent that clings to your skin and clothes. Then the memories came rushing back.
Gunfire.
Rowan’s screams.
Blood on my hands and seeping into my clothes as her eyes fluttered closed.
I jerked upright in the chair beside the bed, my hand automatically going for the gun at my hip.
I scanned the room quickly, freezing when I noticed the bed was empty, and my heart slammed against my ribs so hard it actually hurt.
“Rowan?”
The room was silent.
Machines hummed softly beside the bed, their screens glowing in the dim light. The blanket had been folded back, the pillow dented where her head had once been.
But she was gone.
A cold wave of panic rushed through me.
“No.”
I stood up so fast the chair scraped loudly across the tiled floor.
“Rowan!”
Her name came out rough and desperate and I hated how pathetic I sounded.
My mind went straight to the worst possible place.
She’d died, while I was asleep like a damn idiot.
I ran a hand through my hair, breathing hard as I looked around the room like she might magically reappear.
“ROWAN!”
Fuck! What was I going to do? I had been charged with her protection and now she was just gone?
“Fuck…FUCK!” I yelled, growing more and more frantic.
Maybe she hadn’t died, I tried to reason with my own panicked mind. But if she hadn’t died, then where was she?
And then my mind went to an even worse place than before…the cartel.
If they had taken her, if they had hurt her, it would be the last thing any of them did. I would burn their whole organization to the ground, killing each one of them slowly, methodically, and very very painfully.
Fuck sitting down and holding peace talks.
Fuck trying to work with them on anything.
