Lies & Devotion (Blood and Iron Warriors Book 3)

by Kat Kenyon

  “Has she spoken?” he asks the orderlies.

  “Not after we medicated her.”

  I see him swing a glance my way. “How much?”

  “Enough,” one of the pencil-dick tech mutters. “She’ll be nice and quiet.”

  “What?” Fuckwit’s hands go back to his hair, pulling frantically, rocking his glasses, forcing him to readjust them.

  The tech rolls his eyes and rocks back on his heels. “We needed her to cooperate for the trip. You’re not the one who would have been in trouble if she started screaming and fighting us like she did at the hospital.”

  I wanna rip your balls off.

  I didn’t fight until they assaulted me. Again! I never knew I could feel this violent, but I’m becoming savage. And not the theoretical kind. I’m tired of letting people hurt me. There’s been so many. Emily, her boyfriends, my father, his family—Gabe.

  Stupid.

  Gabe left me for dead, and I got scared instead of mad. Now, I want to destroy them all.

  “I needed her calm enough to not panic, not make her comatose. If the judge thinks she’s purposely drugged up—”

  “Doc, Sleeping Beauty bites people. No one’s gonna try to move her or take her into public when she’s that uncooperative.”

  Fuckwit seems at a loss and flops into a chair, watching me carefully. “She’s a rape victim.”

  The tech shrugs. “It’s not on her intake sheet or in your orders.”

  Fuckwit takes off his ugly glasses again and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I know, but apparently, she told everyone. The cops. Us. We all ignored her. Judge Baker is going to rip us apart.”

  The tech stares impassively. “That’s above my pay grade. I get orders, I follow them. We followed the orders we were given, and she’s here. In one piece. That’s our job.” His big arms fold over his chest as he puffs up. “If her chart needs to be updated, by all means, update it. But that isn’t something we do.”

  Stepping away, the guy leans back against the wall, washing his hands of it, leaving me to the frantic fuckwit that is Doctor Frenwhit.

  I hate them both, but Frenwhit could have stopped all of this. I told him the night I came in what happened, but he waved the intake in my face and ignored me.

  Now, he stares into my over-medicated face. His washed-out blue eyes blink nervously as sweat builds on his forehead. It sounded like this isn’t what he intended, but I’m low on trust, so I don’t give him a sign that I’m aware.

  He takes a step toward me and even from a couple feet away the smell of his BO hits me. He’s nothing like Tyler, who, even when panicked, never looks like he’s going to dive under a table. It reminds me of how Tyler may sweat, but he’s never rank. He smells of a masculine work-ethic that can be nasty, but never this stale, fear-induced stench. It makes me want to gag or lean forward and smack him until he goes away.

  A knock on the door fills the room and the disgusting waste of space in front of me pushes his glasses up his nose and walks out, leaving the techs to follow him with me. Within seconds, we’re in a large room, and a moment later, I see Tyler.

  He starts to stand the moment he sees me, but gets pushed down by the man standing next to him. I try to lift my hand, but it only lifts a little, not enough to show I’m aware, leaving me hollow, imprisoned. When his eyes narrow, my stomach jumps past my heart into my throat, because I know he’s worried, and it hurts. But even the pain is good. Because feeling is good, and his presence seeps into me from across the room.

  He’s here.

  Tyler tries to get up again and gets pulled back down. He glares at the guy and I hear frantic whispers. Everyone looks mad, and when the man turns to me, I realize it’s Arnowsky. Whatever is being said makes Tyler look like he’s going to jump over the table.

  Funny how his low-level anger used to upset me and now all I want is to curl up in his lap and bask in the raging wild fire of his temper. I just can’t get my limbs to work enough for me to get there.

  I fucking hate these people.

  I watch Tyler watch me until his head snaps forward, and I try to focus on what caught his attention. It’s hard, but I catch part of it.

  There’s a voice at the front of the room that floats into my mind. “…she doesn’t look aware to me.”

  “Of course not, if they drugged her, she wouldn’t. This is completely unacceptable,” barks Arnowsky. He stands and glares at the people next to me, which includes a man in a suit and Frenwhit.

  “Counsels! Sidebar,” the judge snaps.

  “Your Honor, please let my client see his girlfriend in the meantime.” Arnowsky waves between Tyler and me.

  The judge takes a moment and nods. “Granted.”

  Tyler seems to teleport in front of me, his hands wrapping around mine, pressing my fingertips to his lips. “Rayne?”

  “Tyllleer,” my voice croaks. It’s so damn hard to talk it barely comes out.

  “Baby, what did they do to you?” He’s horrified, tears rising to the surface of his eyes.

  I want to hug him, have him pull me out of this stupid chair, but the most important thing is that he knows what they did. “Druuug.” I want to say more, but that’s the important part.

  He blinks away the glossy evidence of our pain and utter malice turns on Fuckwit. His voice is low, barely audible when he says, “They’re trying to keep you.”

  They’re trying to keep you.

  My body grows cold. This was supposed to be three days. Seventy-two hours. That was it, and now they’re keeping me? They drugged me so Frenwhit can do what he wants.

  “They’re saying you’re too sick to come home, but they’ll try and fail. If they take you today, it won’t be forever, I swear.”

  I lose focus, everything slipping from me, but two giant hands wrap around my face, forcing me to look at him, dragging me back from the edge.

  “Rayne, don’t you dare give up. I’ll get you back. I don’t care what I have to do. Who do you belong to?”

  I’m a floating broken piece of machinery. A drugged doll with no will of my own.

  His forehead drops to mine, hazel eyes, glowing from rage. “Rayne, damn it!” His voice cracks, breaking through the void just enough to pull me back. “Who do you belong to?”

  “Youuu.”

  “That’s right. You’re fucking mine!” he hisses. A kiss ghosts quickly across my lips. “I won’t let them keep you.”

  I don’t know what he can do, but he has the power I need, and I try to inhale it because I trust him. I’m his. He’s mine. And if anyone will get me out, if anyone can fix this, Tyler will.

  Chapter Six

  Tyler Blackman

  “Mr. Blackman, please find your seat.”

  I can’t do this.

  I stay crouched in front of her, hoping to get more out of her even as she shuts down. If I walk away from her, will she break?

  “Mr. Blackman, please return to your seat,” the judge says again.

  The bailiff motions me back to my chair, and while his face is sympathetic, it’s immovable.

  She doesn’t look at me when I kiss her forehead and whisper, “I’ll come for you.”

  I’m not surprised she doesn’t acknowledge me; I haven’t protected her. But I will. I’ll always come for her. Standing and moving away from her is wrong and it tears at my soul. I snarl at the State’s side of the room when I walk past them.

  This is their fault.

  After I sit, the prosecutor stands again. “Your Honor, it’s irrelevant at this point what caused Ms. Mathews’ current state. The fact is, she’s not capable of making decisions for herself, and she’s a danger to herself and others. She bit multiple people, and frankly, her refusal to eat or take care of herself proves it.”

  He has the audacity to wave in her direction like she isn’t there. Arnowsky shakes his head, a flat hand pressing to the bridge of his nose, looking disgusted before jumping in.

  “Your Honor, it’s disingenuous to say what caused my cl
ient’s current state is irrelevant. It’s also convenient that my client arrived to her own hearing so drugged up she can’t talk. How can she defend herself? How can I do my job when the very people who caused her violent reactions are allowed to drug her to the point she’s a breathing zombie?”

  There’s a sharp inhale from the doctor before the prosecutor snaps, “It was for her and her handlers’ safety.”

  “I don’t believe that.” Our attorney shakes his head at the other attorney and the judge. “I’ve been working with this young woman for over a month and what’s being described doesn’t sound like my client at all. Your Honor, Miss Mathews didn’t harm a soul until she was assaulted in her home by a police department who used storm trooper tactics against a known crime victim. And, even if she was incapacitated, Mr. Blackman has her power of attorney and the legal right to decide her treatment, not the State. She does not consent to this and neither does he.”

  The prosecutor breaks in. “That POA is suspect. Why would she rather have a kid decide for her rather than her own mother?” he asks, pointing to a blond woman sitting behind the doctor.

  The stringy-haired woman was probably pretty once, but the drugs and alcohol have taken a toll on Emily Donahue. She’s skinny, with skin marked by scabs and deep lines. She’s the reason we’re here, and the bitch hasn’t looked at her daughter once, instead staring at the judge with a look ranging between pathetic and disdain.

  The prosecutor keeps going. “If everything submitted by Mr. Blackman is true, Ms. Mathews made this decision after one of the most traumatic events a young woman can experience. She can’t have been in her right mind, in fact, the POA should be vacated.” The prosecutor gives me a dismissive glance then looks at the judge. “The State has the right to hold her until her mental state is sufficiently stable, and her mother agrees.”

  How we got here is irrelevant? How can what they did be irrelevant? My skin itches and my chest hurts, when a slight sound comes from the wheelchair. She’s foggy but paying attention as she glares at the prosecutor.

  Fuck!

  It’s really fucking relevant to me. It’s really fucking relevant to her.

  She doesn’t trust her mom, and now I’m fighting the government to keep her safe from her. Sitting in a horrible hospital gown, strapped in a chair, with her hair limp and stringy, she’s nothing like she was when they took her. That’s what they’ve done to her in just a few days. That’s relevant. That’s what their care looks like. That’s what I whisper to Arnowsky, and in the silence, my words carry to all four corners of the room.

  There’s a handful of people today and it makes the courtroom feel packed. Mom’s behind me with silent tears pouring down her face. She started crying as soon as they brought in Rayne, and it was almost a relief, because I want to but can’t. I have to be strong and someone should cry for her. It sure as hell won’t be the bitch sitting behind Frenwhit.

  Aunt Margot’s on one side of Mom, looking bored and annoyed, and on Mom’s other side behind Arnowsky, is Corey, Rayne’s brother.

  I texted him about what happened and he’s livid. I don’t know how much he knows about us. About her. They just started talking again when all hell broke loose, but he was waiting in the hall for us when we got here, and sat on our side, glaring at his mom with enough venom to kill her.

  He warned Rayne a couple months ago that her mom was acting up, but she thought nothing of it. She said it was normal behavior for her mom. All the calls, messages, threats, tantrums were nothing new. I didn’t think much of it either, not with my dad. We both thought she was neutralized once Rayne turned eighteen and Rayne signed the POA.

  Now here we are.

  The judge’s voice breaks through the whispers in the courtroom. “I’ve listened to both sides, and I’m concerned the professionals felt necessary to medicate Miss Mathews. We don’t want someone who’s a danger to be released. At the same time, it’s very relevant how we got here. Miss Mathews, despite the horrible trauma, was returning to class. She’d returned to campus more than a week ago. She was working on moving forward with her life. The evidence shows it wasn’t the sexual assault that caused this, it was the police department’s shocking lack of communication and behavior in how they handled this.”

  He gives the police officers sitting behind the prosecutor a sharp look before waving at the documents before him.

  “I’m further convinced that something has gone terribly wrong at the hospital. She was functional before she got there. She’d calmed down according to Mr. Blackman, even as she was being taken into custody, so I have to wonder what happened? It’s hard to make an argument that the State and the medical professionals have helped this young woman if she needs to be so heavily medicated she can’t talk in this hearing.”

  He drops the document on his desk. “While we do have to deal with the current situation, I’m having a hard time believing the current medical treatment is effective for this patient. Why shouldn’t I return her to the person she gave power to for these situations? I’ve seen nothing to say that she’s getting better under your supervision, Doctor Frenwhit. If fact, she seems wholly worse thanks to the State’s intervention and your treatment. You’ve all made a mess of this girl’s life, when according to Detective Gillete, who’s been handling the criminal investigation of her attack, she was doing surprisingly well working with him on her case.” Even as he talks, he keeps glancing at her as if waiting for a sign before sighing. “I’m concerned about making matters worse when this young woman has suffered enough. According to hospital records from after her assault, it was monstrous.”

  “May I speak, Your Honor?” The doctor at the other table tugs on his tie as he spreads his hands over the paperwork in front of him.

  “Briefly.”

  “Miss Mathews has been through a great deal, but it’s my professional opinion she needs professional help. She attacked and bit the officer who came for her, then attacked our health technicians at the hospital, biting one. She—she’s refusing to take care of herself or take part in treatment.”

  “What predicated these attacks on others?”

  Coughing, the doctor looks behind him for a moment. “Normal procedures that happen to anyone. She fought law enforcement and was in intake when she lost control again. Nothing that should have resulted in her extreme response.”

  Arnowsky glares at him. “She’s a rape victim, something law enforcement and your staff failed to document during intake. So, what did you do?”

  “We were informed she was delusional and harming herself.”

  I rise and find myself shoved down as Arnowsky points at Emily. “She told you that my client was delusional. She lied. She hasn’t talked to her daughter in months.”

  “Which caused her mother to become concerned.” Sighs the prosecutor.

  Emily gives everyone a sad look and brushes a fake tear away.

  Bitch!

  Pointing at Emily, Arnowsky snorts. “No, that’s her desperation for her daughter to move home to help fund her habit. Emily Donahue is a known drug addict and hasn’t taken care of her child in years.” Arnowsky turns bright red as he directs his frustration at Frenwhit. “The State had an obligation to not succumb to a bid for money from a thief and a liar.”

  “She acted like an animal,” Frenwhit hisses, shoving his glasses up his nose.

  A sharp pain in my hand lets me know I’m flexing my injured hand too hard, but I can’t stop the clenching. It’s only been three days and they’ve hurt her. I can see her biting the techs because she bit the cop. Those dicks are why this is happening.

  Breaking in, the judge asks, “Doctor, do you honestly believe you can help this patient? She was doing okay at home. I’ve seen nothing to show that Mr. Blackman isn’t taking good care of her.”

  “I believe I can. She needs serious professional help. I’m sorry there were miscommunications that delayed our response to her original trauma, but we understand now. And the truth is, sometimes things need to get w
orse to get better.”

  My rage breaks through. “It’s not up to you.”

  Arnowsky shakes his head at me, then nods at the judge who motions for Frenwhit to continue.

  “I understand why, due to his young age, Mr. Blackman might feel upset with this situation, but Mr. Blackman isn’t qualified to make these decisions. The PTSD Miss Mathews is suffering from isn’t uncommon. But that doesn’t explain cutting off her mother. Ms. Donahue had reason to be concerned when her daughter ceased all communications. She wasn’t responding to her, changed her living situation, and changed her phone number. These all can indicate a serious mental breakdown.” Sighing, the bastard runs a hand through his hair. “If she was raped—”

  I’m on my feet in an instant, ignoring the pull from my lawyer. “If! If she was raped?”

  The doctor shrinks back, his hand waving at me as if that could stop me if I wanted to kill him.

  “Order, Mr. Blackman, you will keep your seat.”

  “Sit down, Tyler,” Arnowsky orders as he and Corey push me back into my seat.

  “You will maintain decorum in my courtroom or I will remove you. You are not helping yourself here.” The judge points at my chair. The judge’s face is impassive when he purses his lips and says, “Mr. Blackman, I understand this is a sensitive subject for you and Miss Mathews, but I need you to control yourself.”

  “Your Honor, pardon my client. He was the one to find her beaten and bloody in an alley, so the callous disregard of Mr. Frenwhit—”

  “Doctor.” The asshole has the audacity to correct, pushing his glasses up his nose.

  Arnowsky stops to look at him, pausing before slowly asking, “You want the record to be clear?”

  “Yes.” His arrogance is on full display when he looks over at me.

  “So do my clients,” Arnowsky says, turning to look at the judge. “My client was raped. Horrifically, and the monster that did it is still on the loose. Not that you listened when you were told by my client, and now you’ve traumatized her again, so let’s do get the record clear, shall we?”