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Court.

Oh, fuck.

My vision blurred, but the relief that poured through me also drained me of every bit of adrenaline that had been keeping me going. I sagged as Court pounded his fists into Thorne’s face. The brutal beating went on for the longest time, Thorne’s legs twitching with every blow. I let the gun fall from my hands and slumped against the wall, my breathing labored.

When Court finally stood up, Thorne’s face was completely caved in. Just a mess of blood and bone and brain.

I blinked, and Court was at my side, his hands gentle on my face. “Whitney,” he said with an urgency I’d never heard before in his voice. “Baby, I’m so fucking sorry.” He gathered me in his arms and I crumpled against him, my hands grabbing fistfuls of his shirt and squeezing hard.

He was trembling.

He lifted me off the ground and I buried my face in his neck, inhaling his scent with ragged breaths. “Fuck. Are you hurt? Did he fucking hurt you?” He was kissing my face and running one of his hands over my entire body, feeling for injuries.

I could feel myself fading. “Tell me I did good,” I whispered, all the strength leaving my body. “I did good, didn’t I?”

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, baby, you were perfect. You did so good. Hey!” He patted my cheek, and I rolled my eyes open, not even aware they’d closed. Court looked so terrified and I hated that. I tried to lift my arm and touch his cheek, but it wouldn’t move. “Don’t you dare,” he said, his voice laced with terror. His hands made a pass up and down my body, and I flinched when he touched the nail in my side.

“No, no, no, no—Cade!” I’d never heard him sound so panicked, and all I wanted to do was take it away. “Hey. Whitney. Stay with me. We’re gonna take you—Cade!” His shouts for his brother were saturated in fear.

I barely had the strength to speak, and my eyelids felt so heavy. I reached up to touch his cheeks, and they were wet. “I’m right here… Don’t cry…”

I just wanted to see him smile again. Just one more time.

“Shh, you’re okay, baby, I’ve got you,” he murmured, rubbing his jaw along my cheek. It was wet. His tears? “You’re okay.” He kept saying it, over and over. “You’re gonna be okay. I’m gonna get you help, just stay with me, Whitney, please⁠—”

THIRTY-ONE

A steady beeping sound pulled me from a thick, heavy darkness. I blinked up at a white ceiling, then looked down at the enormous man who was currently wrapped around my side. His head was in the crook of my arm, his legs so long they went well over the end of the bed.

The immediate sense of security and warmth I felt just from having him here bloomed in my chest and spread everywhere. I lifted my hand and sifted my fingers through his soft blond hair, studying his regal nose, the lashes that fanned against his cheeks.

He had one arm slung across my hips, his hand loosely covering the top of my thigh. I froze when I noticed the redness of his knuckles and the scabs over two of them. He had a bruise on his forearm and there were a few cuts on his fingers and arm.

Not wanting to wake him so I could stare at him without him knowing, I lay as still as I was able, lightly brushing his hair with my fingers.

“Fuck, that feels good,” he murmured.

I jolted in surprise, my heart pounding as he opened his eyes. He pressed a kiss to the part of me that was directly in front of his face, which was my breast. Then he sat up carefully, like he was afraid too much jostling would be my death.

He was so warm and I was so tired, so I just turned my face into his chest and closed my eyes.

“How you feelin’?”

I looked down at my body, but couldn’t see anything because a thin blanket was pulled up to my chest. “I don’t know,” I croaked, bringing my hand to my throat. Holy shit. I sounded horrible. I sat up and looked at Court, who was wearing a tight expression of concern. “I feel…groggy?” I felt like I’d been asleep for a thousand years.

He trailed his hand over my stomach, stopping at my left side, then pressed lightly with two fingers. “How does that feel?”

A dull ache bloomed over the spot. “Not great, but not terrible.”

He hummed and pulled his hand back, then cupped my cheek and made sure I was looking into his eyes as he said, “Good. Once you’re better, I’m gonna punish you for putting yourself in danger like that.” I opened my mouth, and his eyes dropped to my lips. He traced my bottom lip with his thumb, raised his gaze back to mine, and said softly, “But first I’m gonna tell you how fucking proud I am of you. You are the strongest, most resilient woman I’ve ever met and you fought two of the worst monsters with a fucking spike nail in your side. You’re a goddamn powerhouse and I’m so fucking proud of you, Whitney.” He kissed me firmly, then drew back just as quickly. “But you’re not allowed to do anything ever again.”

All I could focus on were the dark circles under his eyes, and I reached up to trace them with the pad of my finger. “Have you not slept at all? How long have I been out?” There was a few days’ worth of growth on his face and neck.

Exhaustion was written all over his face, and I wanted him to just lie down on me and sleep. I would watch over him. Keep him safe.

“It’s been three days,” he said, the sadness in his voice just as piercing as the knowledge that I’d been unconscious for three whole days.

My mouth dropped open. “What? Then—” A million questions ran through my mind, and I had no idea what to even ask first.