His doctor had pulled me aside at one point and told me that if Adam had been anything but an Alpha shifter, that wound would’ve been fatal. “I’m pretty sure I witnessed a miracle in your mate’s recovery. It’ll be a long road ahead for you both, but I feel confident that he’ll bounce back. It’ll just take time and patience. Shifter healing is miraculous.”
When they finally did discharge Adam, we had a care sheet to follow to cleanse and care for his wound, but I was just thankful we were going home. I hadn’t told Adam the truth yet, though.
I drove us home in a rental and carefully brought him inside, to our bedroom, where I tucked him in after helping him get undressed. I crawled in beside him, his skin still smelling of hospital soap and antiseptic.
“Fletcher…” His voice was a rasp, barely audible. “Is Tank in jail?”
My throat tightened. “Don’t worry about him,” I told him, kissing him on the cheek. “He won’t bother us anymore, baby.”
But when Adam turned worried golden eyes on me, their depths so tired, my heart ached for him. I gazed into them, staring into the soul of my best friend and soulmate. My lip wobbled of its own accord.
“Fletch…”
Goddamnit. “He’s dead,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “I… I killed him. He was trying to kidnap me, to take me away with him, and I thought you were dead and I just… I lost it. I wrestled the knife out of his hand and I stabbed him, over and over again until he stopped moving.”
I swallowed. “I was arrested, but I’m out on bail. The police said that I might avoid prison time on account of self-defense, but…” I let out a soft, humorless laugh. “You may be visiting me in jail.” I curled up beside him, burying my face in his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I ruined everything.”
“No, baby,” Adam eked out, reaching a hand up to run his fingers through my hair. “You didn’t. I was too weak to protect you. I?—”
“Shh.” I kissed his lips to hush him. “Don’t talk. Dr. Kaymire said to rest your throat. Just sleep. I’ll be right here, if you need anything at all. I love you so much, Adam.”
Adam hummed a low, sad note in response and squeezed me closer. I nestled in beneath the sheets and, safe at home and in my mate’s arms, I was tugged beneath, into a deep, deep slumber.
Was our nightmare finally over?
54
ADAM
I hatedhow weak I was. I could barely speak, because even that caused me pain. My throat was hoarse and sore all the time, and the stitches in my neck were garish and ugly—but they saved my life.
I got lucky. Real lucky.
Tank was out for blood that night, and he damn near succeeded. I just hated that Fletcher had blood on his hands now. No Omega should have to kill an Alpha to protect themselves. I should’ve been there to stop it. I should’ve been able to protect him, and instead, I was weak.
Fletcher was by my side, an ever-present companion while I healed. And I did heal, but it was slow.
We were both brought in for questioning a few weeks after I was released from the hospital. To save my voice, I gave the officers a written statement of what had happened. Everything that I could remember, down to the very last detail.
It spanned pages.
Officer Blunt, a portly older gent with a shiny bald head, took the signed statement from me and tucked it into his files.
He turned to Fletcher, wrinkling his nose, which made his mustache twitch. “The restaurant’s surveillance system caught everything that happened. We have the footage of that night, evidence clear as day that the victim attempted to murder Mr. Sinclair, and then dragged you away.”
He puffed out his cheeks on a sigh. “Of course, there’s also evidence of you stabbing the victim to death, but what’s done is done.”
The other officer, a brunette woman with her hair scraped into a severe bun, made a face at her partner. “It was premeditated; the victim followed your vehicle to the restaurant, waited until you went inside, then slashed your tires. He then waited for you to return from dinner. Along with incriminating evidence found on his phone, as well as the harassing texts sent from two different burner phones that were located at the victim’s residence, we feel like we have everything we need to seal this up as a self-defense case,” she said, matter-of-fact.
“Of course, a judge needs to agree,” Officer Blunt added.
“What if they don’t?” Fletcher asked, sounding very small.
The cops exchanged a glance, and my stomach turned over. I already knew the answer to this question before they ever said a word.
“You’re looking at thirty-to-life in a state shifter prison,” Officer Blunt said.
I reached out and squeezed Fletcher’s shoulder. The idea of my Omega locked away forever? It hurt. We still had so many dreams, so much of our lives left to live. How could one bad decision cause this much pain and trauma?
