Page 134 of Addicted

Then I smirked.

Even through the pain.

Even as I felt myself fading.

“I already told you I ain’t gon’ never leave you again, baby,” I said, my voice weak.

Indie made a sound that was half sob, half laugh. She pressed her forehead to mine, her tears falling on my face.

“I love you,” she whispered. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, baby,” I said.

My vision was starting to blur. The room was spinning.

I could hear Kenzo on the phone. “Yeah, we need the doc. Now. Stone’s been shot. Meet us at the warehouse.”

I tried to stay focused. Tried to keep my eyes on Indie. But it was getting harder.

“Stay with me,” Indie begged, her voice breaking. “Please, Stone. Stay with me.”

I wanted to. Wanted to tell her I wasn’t going anywhere. But the darkness was pulling me under.

The last thing I heard before everything went black was Indie’s voice crying my name. Begging me not to leave her.

Chapter 27

Stone

Pain.

That was the first thing I felt when I came to. A sharp, burning pain in my shoulder that radiated down my arm and across my chest. I tried to move and immediately regretted it.

“Fuck,” I groaned, my voice hoarse.

“Stone!”

Indie’s voice. I forced my eyes open, blinking against the harsh fluorescent lights overhead. The room came into focus slowly. White walls with medical equipment. The faint smell of antiseptic.

The makeshift hospital room at the warehouse.

Indie was sitting in a chair next to the bed, her eyes red and swollen like she’d been crying for hours. The second our eyes met, she was on her feet, rushing to my side.

“Oh my God, you’re awake,” she said, her voice shaking. “Are you okay? Do you need anything? Does it hurt? Should I get the doctor?”

I stared at her beautiful face, taking in the bruises on her neck and the split in her lip. I felt something twist in my chest.

Guilt. Raw, suffocating guilt.

“Water,” I said, my throat dry as hell.

Indie nodded quickly and rushed over to the mini fridge in the corner of the room. She grabbed a bottle of water, twisted the cap off, and brought it back to me.

I took it from her and drank half the bottle in one go. The cold water soothed my throat, but it didn’t do shit for the pain in my shoulder. Or the guilt eating me alive.

I set the bottle down on the table next to the bed and looked at Indie.

She was wearing the same clothes from when I last saw her, but they were wrinkled and stained with blood. Her shoes were scuffed, and her ponytail had come undone, dark curls spilling messily around her face. Her jewelry was gone, ripped from her neck and wrists.