by Lauren Dawes
“It’s fine,” Mark said. “Just take Melody and Mrs. Adamsen out to the waiting room. I’ll bring them news as soon as I can.”
She beckoned to the women to follow her. Walking numbly down the hallway, she showed them into the waiting room and asked if there was anything else they needed. When they were settled, she headed back to Mr. Adamsen’s room.
The alarms had stopped ringing; all she could hear now was Brian yelling ferociously at the doctor. “Do something! Why are you all just standing around?”
“Mr. Adamsen, you have to understand,” the doctor began, his tone pleading. “Your father has a DNR in place. We have strict instructions not to resuscitate him if his heart stops beating. This was your father’s wish.”
“He would never sign anything like that!” Brian roared, pacing like a caged lion around the room.
“Mr. Adamsen, there really isn’t anything we can do. It’s a binding contract that we must honor.”
Brian glowered at Mark, then at the doctor. His nostrils flared angrily, his mouth set into a thin, hard line. He looked ready to kill someone.
“Brian–” Eir began, drawing those blue eyes—those cold, angry blue eyes—to her face.
She shuddered and took a step away.
“I’m sorry,” she said before leaving the room. Walking as fast as she could without actually running, Eir made it to the elevator and pushed the button, willing it to arrive. She felt as if she had just witnessed something private and meant only for the eyes of Mr. Adamsen’s family.
At last the elevator arrived with a muted chime, and Eir was relieved to see it was empty. Stepping inside, she pressed the button on the panel. She could still hear Brian Adamsen’s shouts from down the hall.
Looking down at her feet, Eir prayed the doors would shut immediately. She didn’t know how much more she could take. Her wish was finally granted, the doors closing gradually —inch by excruciating inch—until they suddenly sprang open once more. Startled, she looked up to see a hand forcing the doors apart.
Brian Adamsen stormed into the elevator, the doors sliding shut without any hesitation this time. His eyes were wild with grief.
“Mr. Adamsen, I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“I don’t want your pity,” he said, his fist coming out to punch at the emergency stop button. The car lurched to a stop, throwing her against the wall.
“This was your fault.”
“Mr. Adamsen—” The words died on her tongue as his hands wrapped tight around her throat. She clawed desperately at her neck, trying to prise his fingers away, gulping for air as her vision went fuzzy around the edges.
She could feel his hot breath on her cheek as the world turned black, his closeness ensuring she could hear every single word. “You did this. Whatever you did to him caused his heart to stop.”
Eir sucked in a shallow breath. “No … it was the cancer …” she gulped, her lungs beginning to burn. It was hopeless. He was too strong. She couldn’t fade with the adrenalin pumping through her bloodstream, and not being able to reach her sword meant there was nothing more she could do … except …
Swinging her arm out wildly, she depressed nearly every button on the side panel, hoping to hit the emergency button again. The elevator started with a shudder and then came to a stop again almost immediately, the door opening within seconds onto the lower floor. Adamsen released her and she collapsed. Air rushed into her lungs, filling them almost painfully. She drew in gasp after gasp as a huge wave of relief washed over her.
Crumpled on the floor of the elevator, Eir hardly noticed her attacker leaving. The last thing she remembered was drifting off into unconsciousness, and she welcomed it.
Chapter 32
With his leg bouncing up and down furiously, Mason’s eyes were fixed on the door on the opposite side of the room, and had been fixed on that same damn door for the past hour.
Why hadn’t they come out yet?
He looked up at the ceiling, as if all the answers would be revealed there. Fuck, he wished they would be. He had no idea what was happening, and it was driving him insane.
After dropping Eir off at the hospital, Mason had returned to his apartment to find Sophie collapsed on the living room floor, completely still and with foam caked around her mouth. He’d thought she was dead, but after feeling that she was still warm, he knew there was a chance that she could make it.
He’d scooped her up into his arms and carried her out to the car, sliding her onto the back seat and throwing a blanket over her barely moving form. Seeing her so helpless and not knowing what to do had been frightening.
Now he was the one feeling helpless. He’d arrived at the vet’s, they’d taken her into the back and he hadn’t heard a peep since. He refused to let his mind wander to the worst-case scenario. Sophie would pull through this. She had to. He simply didn’t know what he would do if she were to …
He couldn’t even think the word.
Standing up, Mason began to pace around the vet’s waiting room. His hands clenched into fists as he thought about just barreling into the surgery to find out what was happening. He would have to get past the nurse at reception first, of course. She looked over her half-moon glasses at him, as if she had heard his thoughts. He gave her a flat look and collapsed back into his chair.
Hours passed, or it could have been minutes. His grief was messing around with his head. It was the sound of his name that brought him around.
“Mr. White?”
He stood up instantly, approaching the vet, a middle-aged woman in a white coat.
“What’s happening? How’s Sophie?”
“Mr. White, we still don’t know what’s wrong. We’ve run a number of tests, but they have all come back inconclusive.”
“So you don’t know what’s wrong with her at all?” he demanded.
“Not yet we don’t. We still have a number of tests we can run, but I’d like to keep her overnight and hooked up to an IV to keep her hydrated.”
Mason stared, almost zombie-like, at the doctor. “Do whatever tests you have to do. It doesn’t matter how much it’ll cost. She’s worth every damn penny.”
“Of course. We’ll do everything we can for her.” Her hand came up to rest on Mason’s shoulder briefly—awkwardly.
“Can I see her before I go?”
“Sure. If you’d like to follow me,” she said, leading Mason through one of the doors behind the reception desk. They walked down a short hall before the vet stopped at another door and opened it. Mason followed, stepping into a room with cinderblock walls and a linoleum floor. Around the perimeter were metal cages, around half of them containing dogs in various stages of recovery. Despite the number of animals, it was oddly quiet.
Sophie was lying on her side in a cage. Her front left paw had been shaved to clear the way for an IV inserted into her vein. She didn’t even lift her head up when he walked into the room.
Getting down onto his haunches, Mason crouched in front of her cage, wanting so badly to soothe her the way she had soothed him so many times in the last nine years. Somehow she had always known how to make him feel better, even if it was by just being there.
“If you like, you can open the door.”
Mason looked up at the vet before doing exactly that. Sophie’s eyes opened at the soft squeak of the metal hinge, but closed again quickly. Scooting a little closer, Mason reached in and stroked her back.
She whimpered at the touch, making Mason’s heart clench tight in his chest.
“Do you have any idea what’s wrong with her?” he asked, his throat rasping out the words.
“Not yet. It could be a virus, or she could have eaten something she shouldn’t have, or she could have been bitten by a spider or a snake. There’re a number of things, and we just have to narrow it down, but that’s going to take time.”
He was so damn helpless.
“Is there anything you can do for her now, though?”
The vet stuck both hands into the pockets
of her white coat. “She’s comfortable for now. The IV is keeping her hydrated, and I’ve put some antibiotics through just as a precaution. But …”
“But?”
“There’s nothing more we can do right now. I’ve sent her bloods off to the lab, but until they come back, I won’t know how to treat her, other than to do what I’m already doing.”
Mason looked back at Sophie, the labored rise and fall of her chest the only movement. He didn’t want to leave her while she was suffering.
“Do you mind if I sit with her for a little while?”
The vet gave him a sympathetic look and retreated back through the door. Alone in the quiet room, with nothing but the occasional small whimper from one of the other dogs, Mason’s thoughts caught up with him.
What would he do if Sophie died?
He knew it sounded stupid. She was just a dog. But she had been the one constant in his life for nearly nine years. She was his rock and the one thing that could calm him down when he was having a flashback. She could read him like no one in his life ever could.
So what would he do without her there when he woke up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat and reliving the trauma?
What would he do when the feelings of guilt and hopelessness overwhelmed him?
Leaning back against the cage, Mason kept one hand on Sophie while his eyes slid shut. Damn, he was so tired. If he could just get a bit of sleep …
“Mr. White?” Mason woke with start when a light hand landed on his shoulder. Looking around in confusion, he blinked at the bright lights of the vet surgery. The vet was crouched beside him, her face a few inches away from Mason’s.
He scrubbed the heel of his palm over his face. “What time is it?”
“Just after half past six. The surgery’s closed and I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” She looked at Sophie. “Don’t worry about Sophie. We’ll take good care of her.”
“Will you be keeping an eye on her? Overnight, I mean?”
The vet pursed her lips. “We don’t normally do that, but since she’s really on the borderline, I’ll be back in in a few hours to check on her.”
Mason got to his feet; his legs tingling from being in the same position for so long. “Thank you. I’ll come by first thing in the morning to see how she’s going.”
“No problem, Mr. White. I’ll see you then.”
Mason walked out into the cold night. His whole body felt numb. He had just reached his car when he felt a strong pull between his shoulderblades. His blood burned and hummed and then his body shook as he was thrown violently against the side of his car.
“Where were you?” Korvain asked in an icy drawl, his face so close they were sharing air, but Mason was too numb to be frightened. He felt as if he were floating, watching the scene from a distance, not really there.
He stared at Korvain emotionlessly, waiting. The air seemed to thicken as Korvain drew the shadows in around them. His eyes grew darker and darker, until Mason was left staring into bottomless, cold orbs of blackness.
“Where is she?” Korvain’s voice was hostile and rolling with menace. “Where. Is. Eir?” he demanded, every single word enunciated carefully.
Eir.
That one word brought Mason out of his haze.
Eir.
“She said you were going to bring her home today after lunch.”
Eir.
Lunch.
Dropped her at the hospital.
Promised to be back there within an hour.
“Fuck,” he said. He had to get to the hospital. Eir was waiting for him. Mason pulled at the handle of the door, wondering why the door wouldn’t budge. Looking up, he saw that Korvain had his meaty fist planted against the top of the door.
“Where is she?”
“I had to drop her off at the hospital a couple of hours ago. She got a frantic phone call from one of her colleagues, asking her to come to the hospital, asking her to help him with something.”
His lips twisted into a snarl. “Two hours ago?”
Mason looked away, suddenly ashamed. It was actually closer to four hours. “I was supposed to pick her up after an hour unless I heard differently from her.”
“And you didn’t, I take it?”
Mason dipped his fingers into the front pocket of his jeans and retrieved his phone. A blank screen greeted him. “My phone’s dead.”
Korvain cursed and, reaching past Mason, opened the car door. He shoved Mason inside, then materialized next to him in the passenger seat.
“Drive.”
*
By the time they reached the hospital, Mason was in a cold sweat. He couldn’t afford to lose Eir as well as Sophie in the same day. Korvain had kept grumbling under his breath about what would happen to him if Darrion had got his hands on her. Mason prayed to a God he didn’t believe in that she would still be there when they arrived.
As soon as he had parked the car, Mason was out of it and running towards the hospital doors, Korvain following silently behind him. Mason made a beeline for reception, slamming his palms down on the desk when he got there. The young woman looked up, startled. Her eyes soon found Korvain, though, and instead of paling with fear like any normal person would, she actually blushed.
“I’m looking for Eir,” Mason said. The girl looked back at him reluctantly.
“Are you family?” she asked, eyeing them both a little more carefully.
Mason’s stomach bottomed out with the question, his mind throwing up scenarios he didn’t want to consider. “Yeah,” he replied on impulse. “We’re her … brothers.”
She looked from him to Korvain doubtfully, but said, “Give me a moment to see whether she’s come back from her CT.”
CT? What the fuck had happened?
Biting his tongue, he waited for her to explain. Korvain wasn’t so patient.
“What room is she in?”
The young girl’s eyes widened at the ferocity in his voice.
“Second floor. Room twenty thirty-eight.”
Korvain walked off to the elevators, leaving Mason to follow like a fucking puppy. Inside the elevator, the lights dimmed as Korvain’s anger grew, the air thickening to a point where Mason began struggling to breathe.
The doors sprung open and Korvain stalked out into the busy corridor. Every single set of eyes turned to him as he passed. Mason followed behind him again, looking at the room numbers as he went by them.
Twenty twenty-six.
Twenty twenty-eight.
Twenty thirty.
Up ahead, Korvain disappeared into a room.
As Mason caught up and stepped through the doorway, he had no idea what to expect. Would Eir be all right? What had happened to her in the time that he’d left her at the hospital?
Korvain was bent over the bed in the center of the room. His shoulders were so wide that Mason could only see Eir’s blanket-covered legs sticking out the end.
“Are you all right? What happened to you?” Korvain was asking gently.
“What are you doing here?” Eir asked him in a scratchy voice. “How did you know this was where I was?”
Korvain stared menacingly over his shoulder at Mason. When he turned back to Eir, he said, “Mason told me he dropped you off here.”
“Is he here?” she asked, her voice spiking with what sounded like excitement.
Korvain growled but stood to one side as Mason answered. “I’m here.”
She was pale—her normally golden skin looking lackluster under the harsh clinical light. She was dressed in a hospital gown and looked incredibly uncomfortable in it, tugging at the white cotton sheet to cover her chest, but her delicate neck was exposed—and all around it there were long, dark, finger-sized bruises.
Pushing his anger deep down within him, Mason mentally counted to ten and breathed out.
“What happened to you?” Walking to the side of the bed, he took one of her hands. She was warm and he felt calmer for touching her.
; “It was nothing.”
“Those bruises around your neck don’t look like nothing,” Korvain said darkly.
Eir’s eyes flickered to him before gravitating back to Mason. “It was a dying patient’s son. He was upset that there was nothing we could do to help his father when his heart gave out. Mr. Adamsen had a DNR in place, and we have to respect those wishes. His son didn’t take that so well, I guess.” Eir’s eyes dropped to the hand Mason was gently cradling and her fingers curled around his.
“I left the room to give the family some time to grieve.” She looked at Mason once more. “I was in the elevator. He slipped in at the last minute and pushed the emergency stop button. I tried to give him my condolences, but he said that it was my fault.”
“How could that have been?” Mason asked, gently running his thumb across her knuckles.
“I had tried to take away his father’s pain, but his body was rejecting it. There was nothing more I could have done for him.”
“So the bastard blamed you for trying to help his father?” Korvain asked, his jaw bulging.
“Yes. I tried to reach my sword, but his hands were wrapped entirely around my throat. I think I managed to hit the emergency button again, because the doors sprang open and he walked away. That’s the last thing I remember. When I woke up, I was in this bed … I don’t even know how long I’ve been here.”
“Not more than a couple of hours,” someone said from the doorway. Mason looked up to see a man in a white coat enter the room. Embroidered above his chest pocket was the name Samuel Bridges, MD in black thread.
The doctor approached the bed warily, guardedly studying Korvain. The Mare stepped away and the doctor stared down at Eir. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine, other than a sore throat.”
“The sore throat shouldn’t last more than a few days. So, I have the results of your CT. Everything is fine—no concussion from that bump on the head you took.” His eyes went first to Mason, then to Korvain. “So if these two men are here to escort you home, I’ll get your discharge papers in order.”
