by Rose, Callie
The room is quiet, but tension fills every inch of it as Doctor Adelman finishes up his exam. When he’s done, he steps back and leans against the small desk set along one wall.
“Well, Ayla, the good news is, I don’t think you’ve got more than a very mild concussion. I’m not seeing signs of a serious brain injury. I believe that some of the symptoms you’re experiencing are the effects of shock.” He shoots a quick look at Ryland and Theo before shifting his gaze back to me, speaking carefully as he continues. “I don’t know what you’ve been through, but I’m going to guess that it was… somewhat traumatic. Shock, on top of the concussion, accounts for all of your symptoms. I’ll write you a prescription for pain medication and an anti-inflammatory, and you’ll need to take it easy for the next few days. All right?”
I nod, although I barely heard everything he said. The gist of what I picked up was that we shouldn’t have come, that I’m not hurt badly enough to really need medical attention.
That we should be out there trying to find Marcus.
“Thanks, Doc,” Theo murmurs, and for the first time since they found me, he sounds relieved.
“No problem. I’ll just go get those for you.”
Doctor Adelman steps out of the room, and I move to slide off the exam table, but Theo stops me with a hand at my waist.
“Don’t get up until you have to. He said you need rest.”
The concern in his gaze is almost enough to quash my nervous impulse to pace around the room. He’s right, and I know it. But sitting still feels like doing nothing. And I can’t do nothing right now.
Ryland’s phone rings, and he swipes the screen quickly and lifts it to his ear. “Yeah? What do you have?”
I sit up straighter, staying on the exam table but leaning forward as if I’ll be able to pick up the other side of the phone call if I get close enough. I can hear the indistinct murmur of a deep voice talking on the other end, but I can’t understand the words. So I just watch Ryland’s face, trying to read the answers in the strong lines of his face and the curve of his lips.
He listens in silence for a moment. A muscle in his jaw jumps, and my stomach clenches.
“All of it?” There’s a pause as he listens again. When he speaks, there’s something in his voice I don’t recognize, something I’ve never heard before. “Yeah, okay. Keep looking. Call me if you find anything.”
He pulls the phone away from his ear and presses a button to end the call, then stares down at the screen for a moment. I realize I’ve stopped breathing, and although my head still pounds with an angry, throbbing pulse, I can barely feel it right now. I’m staring at the phone just like Ryland is, my gaze zeroed in on it like it possesses the answers to every question in the damn universe.
Then, suddenly, Ryland’s fingers curl around it, gripping it tight. With an inarticulate roar, he hurls it across the room.
It hits the wall so hard it dents the plaster, breaking into pieces and clattering to the floor. Chunks of black plastic, glass, and little electronic pieces scatter across the hardwood.
But it’s not enough.
In three long strides, Ryland crosses the room, slapping one palm against the wall before smashing his fist into the spot where his phone hit. Another ragged yell pours from his lips as he punches the wall over and over. He’s not even forming words. Just… sounds.
His fist breaks through the plaster, and he punches two more times, widening the hole. Then he braces both hands on the wall, dropping his head as he breathes heavily.
He looks like a wounded animal.
Feral.
Dangerous.
Broken.
The sounds of his breath fill the sudden quiet of the room, and as I stare at him in shock, my heart cracks open in my chest.
I was holding on to hope. All this time, despite the blood and the pain and the uncertainty, I was holding out hope that Marcus would be okay. But witnessing Ryland’s raw grief turns that hope to ash.
“What?” I croak. “What did he say?”
“The footage is gone.” Ryland’s voice is strained. “Everything from the warehouses and the surrounding area was wiped. There’s no footage left from today at all.”
“How?” There’s a note of desperation in my voice, and my fingers grip the edge of the exam table tightly.
“The same way we know it’s missing. Whoever is behind this has someone who knows their way around a computer, just like we do. Only they got to it first.”
“But then, Marcus could still be alive,” I blurt out. “We didn’t see the footage, so we don’t know. He might not be dead. I know he got shot, but maybe—he might still be alive.”
My heart pounds faster, as if it’s trying to pour more strength into my words, to bolster them somehow. But it’s true, isn’t it? The fact that we don’t know what happened between when I blacked out and when I woke up means that maybe, somehow, he’s still alive somewhere.
Maybe he was wearing a vest.
Maybe his wounds weren’t that bad.
But then why would he leave? If he was well enough to walk on his own, why would he just leave me unconscious on the ground next to a dead body?
A sudden vivid memory comes to mind: Marcus, walking into the bedroom at the safe house and asking me if things were okay between us. That was right before we left to head to a new, supposedly safer, location. I can picture every detail of him in my mind’s eye, and he wasn’t wearing a vest.
No, the bullets pierced his body.
I felt the blood.
I’m still covered in it.
Ryland doesn’t answer. His head is still bowed, as if he can’t physically lift it. His fingers curl into fists again, the heels of his hands pressing against the wall.
My chest aches. I want to slip off the table to go to him, to wrap my arms around him and rest my forehead against his back. To let my breath fall into sync with his as I let him know that he’s not alone.
But I’m pretty sure he feels the same way I did earlier. That it would hurt him more than help him to be touched tenderly right now.
I hate that he’s like that.
I hate that I’m like that.
A long moment passes before Theo speaks up. “You’re right. He could still be alive.” His voice is more subdued than I think I’ve ever heard it, as he steps closer to the exam table, resting his hand over mine. “We don’t know. And until we do, we’ll keep looking for him. We’ll keep searching.”
My fingers release their death grip on the table’s edge and interlace with Theo’s. “Okay.”
We’ll keep looking for him. We’ll keep searching.
Without meaning to, without even knowing he’s done it, Theo just echoed a promise I’ve been telling myself for years. I’ve spent more hours than I can count trying to dig up information on my little brother, searching relentlessly with nothing more to go on than an old picture and a story from a girl I knew in foster care.
Now there are two men I’m searching for.
Two men I’m desperate to find.
And I don’t have any idea if either of them are still alive.
Chapter 4
A couple minutes later, Doctor Adelman walks back into the room. He barely glances at the pieces of Ryland’s phone or the hole in the wall, and I wonder how fucking much they pay this guy to keep him from asking any questions.
It must be a lot.
“All right, Ayla.” He hands me a small slip of paper with the prescription scribbled on it. “Take it easy for the next few days, and if you notice any changes at all, any blurred vision or changes in speech, have one of these guys bring you back to see me, okay?”
I nod automatically, releasing Theo’s hand so I can take the prescription. Doctor Adelman hasn’t even given my amputated arm a second glance, I realize. I wonder if it’s because he’s a doctor and is used to stuff like this, or because the rest of me is such a shit-show it distracts the eye.
Ryland steps away from the wall, his spine going rigidly strai
ght again. He glances at the hole his fist made. The plaster is torn through in a rough circular shape and a few red smears mar the wall around the hole. He must’ve split his knuckles open.
He doesn’t apologize or say anything else to Doctor Adelman, and the bearded man doesn’t seem to expect it. Instead, the doctor opens the door and gestures for us to follow him, leading us back out the way we came. When we step into the alley, it occurs to me that we’re stranded without a ride. Dominic is long gone—thank fuck—and there’s no way in hell we can hail a cab with me looking like this.
The guys don’t look much better, honestly. Theo’s front is stained with blood from when he hugged me, and both of them have dirt, scrapes, and more streaked blood on various parts of their bodies.
But as we step out onto the street, Ryland doesn’t even hesitate. Keeping me sandwiched between him and Theo, he steers me toward a slate-gray car I don’t recognize.
“Is this yours?”
I glance at him. It’s not a car I’ve ever seen him drive, but that doesn’t really mean much. I know all three of the men who invaded my life are loaded, so it’s not hard to imagine he has several cars.
“No. It’s a friend’s. I called a favor in.”
My eyebrows shoot up. Something in his tone suggests that this person isn’t actually much of a friend, and that the favor owed is more like a debt owed. I don’t bother pushing for more details though. Doctor Adelman’s pronouncement that I’ve just got a concussion was reassuring, but my head still pounds, and now that some of the adrenaline is wearing off, I feel shaky and exhausted.
The keys are stashed on top of the front tire, and I glance around as Ryland retrieves them and unlocks the doors. I don’t see anyone around, which means the owner of the car must’ve left, either on foot or in a cab or something.
Fuck. That’s some favor.
Theo slides into the back with me again, and Ryland starts the engine and pulls away from the curb. The blood on my clothes, skin, and hair is mostly dry by now, so I’m not fucking up the seat as badly as I probably wrecked Dominic’s.
We stop to pick up my prescription, and as we’re driving away from the drug store, a new thought hits me like a ton of bricks.
“My apartment…”
I haven’t thought about it since yesterday. So much has happened since then that it feels like the fire must’ve been years ago instead of barely twenty-four hours. Carson enlisted Natalie’s help to lure me out of Marcus’s house by torching my apartment building, and even before my abduction, I could see my apartment wasn’t going to be salvageable.
Everything I own, except for the duffel bag I packed for the weekend, was in that apartment.
I don’t have a place to live.
That thought should probably cause more panic than it does. Despite all the shit I went through during my time as a foster kid, I managed to avoid ever being truly homeless. No matter what else happened, I always had a roof over my head, and now I’ve lost that.
But it doesn’t seem to matter all that much right now. Not when I compare it to everything else that’s happened.
It was just a place. It was just stuff.
“I’m sorry, Rose,” Theo murmurs, turning his soft blue-green eyes on me.
Ryland doesn’t say anything, but as he takes a left turn, I realize where we’re headed. Where we’ve always been headed. He never even started driving toward my neighborhood, taking us instead to the part of Halston where the three men each have houses close to each other.
Something warm spreads through my chest, an antidote to the bitter pain that’s taken up residence there. I glance from Ryland to Theo as a lump forms in my throat.
“Thank you.”
It’s barely a whisper, and it’s not enough. Not enough to convey everything I need it to.
But it’s all I have.
Theo smiles at me sadly, threading his fingers through mine again and squeezing my hand. “Of course.”
Ryland pulls up outside a large house a few minutes later. It’s similar in size and style to Marcus’s place, and that similarity makes my stomach clench. I didn’t realize until this moment how comfortable and familiar Marcus’s house had started to feel. I felt safe there, in a way that had very little to do with physical protection.
You were safe there, a little voice whispers in my head. That’s why Marcus told you to stay.
But he never told me why I should stay, never told me that I might be risking my life if I stepped outside the protection of his walls. He was trying to protect me, to keep me insulated from the world he and his friends live in, but I can’t help but feel mad at him for it.
If he hadn’t lied to me, I wouldn’t have left his house. I wouldn’t have become an unwilling pawn, and the three men wouldn’t have had to abandon their position in the game to come get me.
And Marcus wouldn’t have gotten shot.
Like a series of dominoes falling, one lie set off a chain reaction that culminated in three gunshots I can still hear echoing in my ears.
Why couldn’t he have just told me?
“Hey. You okay?” Theo catches my elbow, and I realize my steps have stalled halfway up the path to his front door.
“Yeah.”
I try to give him a smile, but I know he doesn’t buy it. It feels more like a grimace even to me.
Shaking away my dark thoughts, I follow him inside the house, followed closely by Ryland. But as soon as I’m safely inside, Ryland turns around and heads for the door again.
“Where are you going?” I ask.
Maybe it’s a stupid question. He doesn’t live here, after all, so there’s no real reason to expect him to stay. But a strange flutter of panic ripples through me at the idea of him leaving. I feel like I need him here, even though I can’t quite articulate why.
He hesitates, glancing at me over his shoulder. For just a second, the hard lines of his face smooth out a little, his hazel eyes softening. “I’m gonna run over to Marcus’s place to get your stuff.”
“Oh.” I swallow. “Thank you.”
He dips his head in a nod. “Sure. Who knows, maybe there’ll be some sign of Marcus there. Maybe he…”
Ryland trails off, as if he knows he sounds like he’s grasping at straws. I can hear it too, but I can’t help the little spark of hope that lights inside my chest. “That’s a good idea.”
His jaw clenches, and the hardness I’m used to seeing on his face returns. He gives one more nod, then leaves.
“Come on, Rose.” Theo grabs the bottle of pills out of the little bag they came in, tosses the bag on a small table by the entryway, then pours a couple tablets into his hand. “First, get some painkillers in you. Second, shower. Sound good?”
I nod. All I really want to do is curl up in the fetal position and hope sleep comes for me, but I know it won’t until I do both of those things.
Theo leads me to the kitchen, where he gets me to eat a few crackers before handing me a glass of water and the pills. I swallow them down, then follow him upstairs. My mind is in too much of a daze for me to absorb much of my surroundings, but I notice that Theo seems to have a thing for art. He’s got several big pieces on the walls, paintings with bold colors and indefinable shapes. It’s not exactly what I would’ve expected from him, but somehow, it makes perfect sense.
He leads me down a hallway on the second floor, then opens a door and gestures me inside.
“Guest room,” he says as he steps in after me. “There are towels in the bathroom, and shampoo and shit in the shower.” His brows drop a little, and he steps forward, framing my face with his hands as he looks down at me. “You gonna be okay? You can get in bed right now if you want. I don’t give a shit about the sheets. I just thought maybe you’d want to…” He trails off, his gaze flicking down my body.
As if called up by his words, the lingering coppery scent of blood teases my nostrils. I’m sure I’ve smelled like this the whole time, but I’ve been able to tune it out a little, my mind focusing
on other things.
My stomach roils, threatening to expel the crackers, pills, and water I just consumed. I grit my teeth and nod. “I do want to. Thanks.”
“Okay. Call if you need anything.”
Theo lingers near the bedroom door as I head toward the bathroom, watching me go. I can almost feel the conflict in him, the unwillingness to leave. It seems almost like he’s debating whether to stay and offer to help me, and a part of me wishes he would.
Things between us have always been a little confusing. Something has hovered in the air between us, even as my relationship with Marcus deepened and intensified. The way he looks at me sometimes, that kiss in the alley, the feeling of touching him while Marcus fucked me—it all speaks to something more between us.
And right now, with my world blown to smithereens, little pieces of it floating through the air like dust, Theo and Ryland feel like the only two people in the world I can trust.
The only real things that exist in a world that barely makes sense anymore.
I need them, in a way that scares me a little to think about.
My steps slow a little as I reach the bathroom door, giving Theo a chance to speak up if he wants. But when he doesn’t say anything, I slip into the bathroom and close the door softly behind me.
Maybe it’s for the best. I’m fucked up in the head right now anyway. Maybe I just need to be alone.
As I step toward the shower, my gaze snags on the mirror over the sink. I blink, a fresh wave of nausea washing over me.
Jesus.
How did the men look at me without grimacing? How did Doctor Adelman do his exam without running screaming from the room?
I look like an extra in a horror movie—one who dies in the first fucking scene. Blood mats my dark hair, giving the dark locks an odd auburn sheen. My hair is a tangled mess, and I’ve got a few scratches and bruises on my face. My skin and clothes are caked with blood, and now that it’s drying, it’s starting to flake off in little red particles.
