Chapter 26
Twenty-Six
T he ICU room was steeped in tension, the faint hum of monitors the only consistent sound. Charlotte Everhart sat by her daughter’s bedside, her fingers curled protectively around Ruth’s. She had spent a lifetime as a deputy police chief, trained to assess threats, to act without hesitation.
Tonight, though, she was only a mother—a mother who had nearly lost a daughter again.
Ruth lay motionless, her blind eyes fluttering beneath bruised lids. She had been drifting in and out of consciousness, but her breathing remained steady, even as confusion colored her expression.
Charlotte stayed close, her instincts razor-sharp. The attempt on Ruth’s life was too close, too deliberate. If she didn’t double back when she did…
Charlotte exhaled, forcing the thought away.
A few hours earlier, Charlotte had stepped into the hallway to use the bathroom, her instincts already on edge. She saw the nurse—the too-crisp uniform, the careful avoidance of eye contact. Her pulse had quickened as the woman took a watchful seat beside Ruth. Something was wrong.
Charlotte had turned on her heel, her shoes silent but fast against the linoleum as she strode back into the room. She saw the woman at Ruth’s bedside, fingers on the IV line.
“Excuse me,” Charlotte said, her voice sharp. “What are you doing?”
The woman had stiffened, turning too slowly. Her smile was wrong—forced, too smooth. “Just checking her lines. Standard protocol.”
Charlotte’s sharp gaze dropped to the badge, which was clipped inward—hiding her identity. Her hands—clean nails but callused palms. Not the hands of a nurse. The hands of a killer.
Charlotte’s stomach twisted. “Step away from my daughter,” she ordered, voice low, deadly.
And then—the woman lunged.
Charlotte barely had time to react before the nurse’s hand darted for the IV port.
She was injecting something.
Charlotte roared, grabbing the woman’s wrist with all her strength.
They struggled. The cart tipped over, crashing to the floor.
Ruth gasped, jerking awake. “Mom? What’s happening?”
Charlotte shoved the intruder back, but the woman was younger, stronger, more prepared. She twisted free and bolted for the door.
Charlotte’s instincts screamed at her to chase, but she spun back to her daughter, hands shaking as she checked the IV line. “Ruth, are you okay? Did she get anything into you?”
Ruth’s breath was ragged, her hands clutching the blanket. “I—I don’t know! Mom, what’s going on?”
Charlotte slammed her hand onto the wall code button. Within seconds, the hall erupted in chaos.
The door burst open as Brad Killian stormed in, his face thunderous. Noah limped into the room with Alex following closely behind, Evan Shipley at his side.
Charlotte turned to them, her breath sharp, her hands still shaking. “A woman posed as a nurse,” she bit out. “She was tampering with Ruth’s IV. I stopped her, but she got away.”
Brad’s face darkened as he pulled out his phone. “Lock this floor down. I want every exit covered.”
Noah limped toward Ruth, pushing past Izzy’s protests. “She was here?” His voice was raw, his eyes blazing.
“Yes,” Charlotte confirmed, frustration etched in every line of her face. “She tried to inject something into Ruth’s line.”
Noah reached Ruth’s side, taking her trembling hand. “She won’t get near you again,” he promised.
Alex crouched beside the bed. “Ruth, do you feel anything unusual? Dizziness, nausea?”
“I—I don’t think so,” Ruth whispered, but her hands trembled in Noah’s.
Noah’s grip tightened, his jaw visibly clenching. “She won’t touch you again,” he growled. “Not while I’m breathing.”
Brad shot Charlotte a nod. “Good instincts, Chief. You saved her life.”
Charlotte shook her head. “I let her get away.”
“You made the right call,” Alex said firmly. “Ruth’s alive because of you.”
But the truth settled over them like a weight. Someone would try again. Someone wanted Ruth dead. And they weren’t going to stop.
* * *
The hospital room had become a storm of activity—Brad securing evidence, Tristan and James reviewing Ruth’s condition, the hospital administrator demanding answers.
But Noah only focused on Ruth. He watched her expression shift, her breathing change.
Something was wrong.
Charlotte’s gaze met Noah’s. The flicker of hesitation, the lost expression that hadn’t been there before. “Ruth?” she asked, voice cautious. “Are you feeling okay?”
Ruth’s voice seemed small, uncertain. “…I don’t know.”
Noah sat beside her, his stomach twisting. “What do you mean?”
She swallowed hard. “I keep waking up… but things feel wrong. Like—I know you, but I don’t know why.”
Noah felt his chest tighten.
She knew him. But she didn’t remember why.
His grip on her hand instinctively tightened, that realization slamming into him like a gut punch. Charlotte’s sharp gaze darted between them. Ruth hadn’t just forgotten minor details but a whole relationship.
Noah forced his expression into something neutral, but his pulse pounded like a drum in his ears. He kept his voice steady, careful. “You know me.”
Ruth exhaled, her brows knitting together in frustration. “I do. But… I don’t remember how.”
Silence stretched between them.
Charlotte was still watching him, and he hated that she could see it before he even processed it himself. Was he protecting Ruth because it was his job? Or was it something more?
A dark, aching certainty settled in his chest. It was something more.
He inhaled sharply, forcing himself to focus. He didn’t have time to spiral, not now.
Noah turned toward Evan and Alex, motioning them to step aside. His voice dropped to a tense whisper. “I need to get her out of here.” His grip on the edge of the bed tightened. “Now.”
Evan didn’t hesitate. He pulled a single key from his pocket, pressing it into Noah’s palm. “I have a place. A ski house in the Black Hills. Off the grid. No one will find you there.” His voice was low, deliberate. “Address is 106 Sparrow Ridge Road, Custer.”
Noah gripped the key, his knuckles whitening. Alex and Brad shoved cash into his hand.
“Whatever you need to keep her safe,” Alex muttered.
Noah didn’t thank them—not because he wasn’t grateful, but because words felt meaningless right now. His focus had already shifted back to Ruth, back to the one thing that mattered most.
His jaw clenched as he turned to Tristan and James. “I need to know—can I move her?”
Tristan exhaled slowly, weighing his words. “It’s not ideal. But if you stay here… it’s worse.”
James frowned. “We need to run some tests. We need about eight to ten hours.”
Noah nodded once. That was the answer. The decision was made.
He turned back to Ruth. She was still searching—for memories that weren’t there, for answers she couldn’t see.
But she didn’t let go of his hand.
And that was enough.
She trusted him.
Even if she didn’t remember why.