“You two need to work out a way to get along because your constant fighting will only upset her and drive her further away from both of you.”
This time it’s me that wants to argue. I have no interest in being nice to the motherfucker that touched what didn’t belong to him, but when I’m on the receiving end of Camilla’s glare, I too shut the fuck up.
“Do whatever you want, but I’m telling you that being assholes to one another will only push her away. Sort your shit out, and if your bullshit hurts Chloe, I’ll kill you both.”
She turns on her heel and heads back the way she came without another word.
“She’s kinda terrifying,” Ryker comments.
Kovu chuckles. “Fuck yeah, she is. My little lamb may be small, but she’s ruthless.”
Crew sighs and rubs a hand down his face. I doubt the guy has had a chance to rest since he and Camilla were rescued and our arguing is grating on him.
Pulling the burner from my pocket to see if Damon has messaged, I sigh when I find the screen blank. The need to check on my brother is almost as strong as my need to protect Chloe, but he can take care of himself.
My priority needs to be Chloe, at least for a little while.
Urgent footsteps drag my attention back the way Camilla came, and when I meet her eye, I know something’s wrong without her having to open her mouth.
“What is it, Love?” Bishop asks, stepping toward her.
“She’s gone,” she whispers. “Chloe’s gone.”
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE
CHLOE
NOW
Soft sheets wrap around me, and I brush my sore cheek against the cloud of a pillow my head is resting on.
I’m no stranger to good-quality linen, but these feel like they were sent from heaven after being in that cell and then the hospital.
The hospital…
Why don’t I remember seeing the doctor? Or leaving for that matter?
Maybe I’m just in another room with less scratchy sheets.
I strain my ears for any sounds of a clinic, but when there’s nothing but silence, I accept that I probably slept through the examination.
The last thing I remember is the doctor coming in and putting my IV in, and then I got really tired. Probably the adrenaline crash after everything that’s happened the last few weeks.
The soft stroke of a thumb over the back of my hand lets me know I’m not alone, and I find myself snuggling deeper into the soft mattress beneath me.
I’ll force myself to wake up soon, to face the mess that is my life, but for now I allow myself to enjoy a quiet moment.
The hand holding mine is too big to be Camilla’s, making me wonder who is sitting by my bedside while I rest.
Curiosity gets the better of me, and when I force one eye open, I almost can’t believe what I’m seeing.
Convinced I’m still dreaming, I blink over and over again, trying desperately to pull myself from whatever dream I’m stuck in. But no matter how hard I try to wake myself up, the image in front of me doesn’t change.
Deep brown eyes I haven’t seen in a decade stare back at me, making my chest ache to the point of pain.
“Hey, Mama,” Kingston says softly.
