Page 59 of Blissful Devotion

My blanket isn’t nearly as comfortable as it usually is, and neither is my bed, actually.

Something beeps, a steady beep, beep, beep that’s just annoying enough that I can’t ignore it.

With a groan, I pry my heavy lids open, only to slam them shut against the room's blinding light.

It feels like I just looked at the sun.

“Kat.”

My eyes fly open, my head whipping toward the voice to find a man… no, several men, in chairs near my bed.

5 men, strangers.

The beeping gets more annoying by the second, and it dawns on me that I’m the reason for the beeping. Just past the men are screens and machines I know are medical equipment.

Instinctively, my hand drops to my baby, and I sigh in relief when he chooses that moment to gently kick, as if to let me know he’s okay.

With one hand still cradling my baby, I use my other to push up in a weak attempt to sit up, but I don’t get far.

One of the men is on his feet in a flash; one hand wraps around my arm while the other goes around my waist, gently pulling me up.

He’s the same man from the house, the one who kicked down the door to get to me, and while I still have no idea who he is, I can’t deny that he feels safe.

Why would he go through all that trouble to get to me just to hurt me?

But why would he want me in the first place?

I gently pull my arm from his grip and say a silent thanks when he seems to understand and releases me, stepping back to give me some space.

“Why am I here? And who are you?” I look around as I settle back against the head of the bed and realize something else. “Where’s Lorenzo?”

The tension in the room builds impossibly higher as they make no attempt to hide their sneers, disgust, and even sadness.

What the hell is going on?

“You passed out,” the guy who found me explains, and I can kind of remember running to him before waking up and nothing else.

Another flutter of movement under my hand reminds me that there are far more important things to worry about than Lorenzo, who locked me in a room and left me alone.

Just the memory of that room makes my chest feel tight, and I quickly push the thought away.

“Is my baby okay?” I try to keep the panic out of my voice, but I fail as my heart rate kicks up and worry sours my stomach.

“So far the baby seems fine. They need to do an ultrasound to be sure, but you were dehydrated, and the doctor wanted to ensure you passed out from exhaustion and overexertion, not something worse, before they did anything else," one of the younger ones with light hair and glasses explained, and I nodded because that made sense.

Tears fill my eyes, and I do my best to blink them away, but I can’t.

“Are you hurting? What’s wrong?” The younger one with dark hair and a million tattoos asks, pulling me from my thoughts and reminding me I’m in a room full of strangers.

I sniffle, wiping away the tears that escape down my cheeks with the back of my hand, and shake my head.

“I’m okay, just a little headache. I’m just relieved he’s okay.”

“He?”

Heat rises in my cheeks as the man closest to me finally speaks. His gaze is so intense that I fight the urge to squirm as my heart pounds in my chest.

He looks so much like Lorenzo, but also not.