Our girl wasn't here. But I was certain she had been. She'd been here and she'd been in that room. We could hunt the rest of this place to be sure, but I knew we weren't going to find her here now. Of course, now we’d have to rob the place to cover up this break in just like the others.
She wasn't dead. She couldn't be. If she was, I was sure I'd know it. I'd have felt it as my heart was torn to shreds and my world imploded with the impossibility of it going on without her in it.
She wasn't dead.
But she was gone.
And we were going to get her back.
M y body was breaking. Everything hurt. It felt like there was a fissure rupturing open in my chest every time I took a breath. And when I did, it was with a wheezing rattle that made fear splinter through me. But for every way my body felt weak, my soul was galvanised, refusing to break.
I will not give up.
I was running out of time though. And I had to do something now if I was ever going to survive this. As much as I knew my boys would be hunting for me with the bloody ferocity of hell hounds, I was also starting to accept that Troy Memphis may have just hidden me too damn well for even his own son to find. And as I caught sight of a nurse approaching the glass door and tapping in a code to open it, I knew now was my shot. Possibly my last too. Because I didn’t know how much longer I could fight this virus. Its roots were too deep in my flesh, its hunger for my death all too keen.
I feigned sleep as the nurse approached, my meds tucked away under my mattress. I’d taken none today. Every time I took them now, I seemed to sleep longer, deeper. And that frightened me in a way I didn’t want to admit to. My dreams were so vivid, and the more time I spent with Dad and Jess in my unconscious state, the closer I actually felt to joining them. And as tempting as it would have been to slip away into their arms once more, it wasn’t time for me yet. I had a life I was desperate to live. I had four men waiting for me who I’d never gotten to show the depths of my feelings to.
My monsters, my saviours.
I’d once stood on a beach in the pounding rain and placed my hand against the Sacred Stone before swearing an oath to belong to the Night Keepers. I hadn’t believed it and I certainly hadn’t wanted it. But fate had bound us and now I knew why. Because through all the pain, the suffering, the way we’d tortured one another, we’d all somehow healed each other too. They were four kings of the dark, and I had become their queen. The girl my father had always wanted me to be, the girl I had always aspired to be. So I needed to return to them and reclaim my position in our tribe.
“I thought you might not make it through another night,” the nurse murmured to me even though he must have believed I was out cold, and I recognised Jonas. The motherfucker hadn’t gotten sick after I’d coughed on him and I was pissed as all hell about that. “It’s a fucking miracle.”
You know what’s a miracle, assface? You still being healthy and well.
He took hold of my arm, rolling it out to get access to the bruised skin around the crook of my elbow which had been punctured by countless needles. “I’d be more grateful if you hadn’t kicked me in the balls though, but I guess I still got one of the first vaccines last week because of you so I can’t be totally bitter,” he said icily. Of all the people my blood could save, why this guy?
I felt his fingers on my face as he pushed my hair away from my forehead and I released a small murmur as if I was coming to, shifting on the bed.
“Shit,” he muttered then he moved away and I cracked my eyes open, watching as he drew up some sedative in a syringe just as I’d expected.
As he turned back toward me, I shut my eyes again, my fingers prickling as I mustered my strength. It wasn’t much, but all I had was going to be directed at this shit stain.
He gripped my arm again and just as the needle grazed my skin, I whipped my other arm around, catching his wrist and twisting it sharply, plucking the syringe from his hand as his grip loosened. He gasped, but he wasn’t fast enough to run as I jammed the needle into his neck and slammed my thumb down on the plunger with a squeeze of satisfaction in my gut. His eyes widened behind his visor and I grinned demonically.
“You little bitch.” His hand whipped out, crashing into my face and my head wheeled sideways from the impact. “Help!” he choked out, lurching toward the emergency button beside the door.
But he was stumbling, the sedative already taking affect. I pushed out of bed as his knees hit the floor, staggering toward him as my vision went from dark to light. He crawled toward the door, still reaching for the button then gave up and took his phone from his lab coat pocket instead. I leapt on his back with a grunt of exertion, making him crumple to the floor as I prised the phone from his grip.
“No one’s coming for you, so pray to whatever god serves small-dick douches,” I rasped.
He growled angrily, trying to fight, but it was no good. He was slipping away second by second and I pushed his face against the floor, hearing his visor crack as I waited for him to pass the hell out. “Goodnight, asshole.”
He finally fell still and I drew in a wheezing breath as I slumped down beside him and looked at his phone, finding it needed face ID or a code to unlock it.
I shoved Jonas to roll him over, the effort it took making my vision blacken again for a moment. My muscles shook with the exertion, but I didn’t slow as I ripped his visor and mask off, finding a hairy face beneath. Not a real beard, more like that bum fluff teenagers liked to grow when they couldn’t actually achieve proper facial hair. Gross.
I angled the phone down at him and the screen unlocked just as a cough crashed through my body. The doctor had given me a steroid injection which had slowed the bleeding on my lungs, so I didn’t taste blood this time. I was gonna take that as a good omen.
Adrenaline gave me a burst of energy as I dialled Saint’s number, my heart hammering madly against my ribs like a tiger trying to break out of a cage. I’d never thought I’d think this, but thank Christ for Saint and his punishments because he’d once had me write out his phone number a thousand times after I told him Kyan had fucked me with the cucumber Saint had eaten in his salad for dinner. Not true, but totally hilarious.
Hope fluttered through me as ringing filled the silence, but a beeping in my ear signalled that the battery was low. I glanced at Jonas’s phone seeing it was on two freaking percent. What kind of psychopath diced with fate like that and let their battery life dance on the brink of doom? Trust my fucking luck to pick the one asshole in this place who didn’t keep their goddamn phone charged up.
“Pick up,” I hissed in desperation. But my hope waned as the call rang on and on.
It was an unknown number. What if Saint didn’t pick up to anyone who wasn’t in his contacts? He must have hated cold callers with a vengeance. And I knew he didn’t have voicemail because he’d once told me voicemails were left by peasants who didn’t value their time on Earth.
“Come on, devil boy,” I begged and miraculously, the call connected.
“Hello?” Saint asked, suspicion colouring his voice.
“Saint, it’s me. It’s Tatum.” But there was no answer and as I pulled the phone back to look at the screen, I found it was blank. “No,” I gasped, panic slicing up the centre of my being.