Page 570 of Reign

“Luciano!”

I pull against Rafael, but he steps in front of me.

“He’s here,” Rafael says. “The doctors are with him. This entire wing is secure.”

“That doesn’t mean he’s okay.”

“No,” he says quietly. “It means they’re doing everything necessary to make him okay.”

Daniela touches my elbow. “Were you in the vehicle with him?”

I pull my arm away. “Yes.”

“She needs to be examined,” Rafael says.

My head snaps toward him. “I’m fine.”

“You were in the same crash.”

“I wasn’t shot.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re fine.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“I can examine you here,” Daniela offers.

I sit in the chair Rafael pulls against the wall because arguing will take longer.

Daniela shines a light into my eyes, checks the cut near my hairline that I didn’t know existed, and presses carefully along my ribs. My neck hurts. My shoulder aches where the seat belt caught me. There will probably be bruises tomorrow.

None of it matters.

Rafael disappears before she finishes.

He returns carrying a bottle of water, packaged wipes, a warm washcloth, and folded black scrubs.

I stare at everything in his hands. “What is that?”

“An advanced medical device,” he deadpans, holding out the washcloth. “Clean your face.”

I look at him. Then at the washcloth.

“Rafael, that’s a fucking washcloth.”

“And yet you still haven’t taken it.”

I snatch it from his hand.

The white cloth turns pink the moment I drag it across my skin. There is blood beneath my fingernails, across my wrists, and soaked into the sleeves of my shirt.

Rafael places the scrubs beside me.

“You should change.”

“I don’t care what I look like.”

“I know.”