Chapter 41
Mirabelle
I’m really grateful Rage doesn’t seem to want to let me go. There’s a tremble that’s starting in my belly, radiating outwards throughout my body that won’t seem to stop.
If I didn’t have his massive arms banding around me, pressing me against his warm chest, I’d probably fall apart.
The motel room is pretty plain. The carpet throughout the floor looks coarse and the pattern on it has faded to the point of being unidentifiable.
The two queen beds take up most of the space in the room.
Ash prowls through the room, opening the doors to the cabinet and peering into them like he’s checking to make sure there’s not someone hiding there.
Maybe that is what he’s doing. Do people hide in motel rooms?
I think it’d be pretty silly if they did. The thought doesn’t even cause me any sort of anxiety, considering the fact I have four guys to protect me.
Well, three technically. Not because Rowan’s a beta, but because he was shot.
Ash flicks on the light to the attached bathroom, illuminating a small but clean space.
I don’t know which cabinet he found them in, but he tosses Rowan and I a few towels.
Rage eyes them as they flop onto the bed beside us and gingerly picks one up. He eyes me silently, his jaw working as he freezes.
When his gaze lands to where I’m still clinging to my bleeding shoulder, I understand what’s going on.
“Do you want to look at it?” I ask Rage softly.
He gives me a single nod.
My breath is shaky as I lift my hand and peel back the thin silk robe from my skin. It’s sticky with blood. There’s a lot, which makes the cut on my shoulder look a lot worse. But surprisingly, it seems the blood has slowed down to a steady ooze.
With a touch that’s impossibly delicate compared to the violence he’s showed he’s capable of, he presses a smaller hand towel over the cut, holding steadier pressure than I could ever.
“Are you trying to stop the bleeding?” I ask him.
He offers me another nod.
“Thank you.” My lips tug up into a smile. It’s small, considering the pressure stings like crazy, but still. He likes my smiles.
My hand is sticky with blood. It’s underneath my fingernails. I can’t wait until I can get clean.
“We should call the doc,” Rowan rasps as Griffin sets him down on one of the beds, over one of the bath towels. I guess having bloody towels may be easier to explain than bloody sheets.
Griffin gives a nod, taking out the crumpled piece of paper with Dr. Stetson’s phone number from the pocket of the basketball shorts.
He dials the number on the corded phone on the nightstand between the beds and hands Rowan the phone.
“You should probably be the one to talk to him. Don’t know how eager he’d be to talk to one of us,” Griffin says, nodding at the other alphas.
“Sure,” Rowan rasps, holding the phone up against his ear.
The rest of us fall silent as we strain our ears to hear what’s going on.
The phone rings and rings and rings before someone finally answers. I cling to Rage nervously when the only thing I hear on the other end is silence.
“Hello, Doc?” Rowan asks hesitantly.
“Holy shit, Rowan, is that you?” Dr. Stetson asks. Even though his voice is quiet and tinny through the phone, I can still hear how stressed he seems.
“Yeah, it’s me, Doc.”
“What number are you calling from? I don’t recognize it.”
“A motel. We’re on the East side.”
Dr. Stetson falls silent on the other end of the line.
“Hello? Doc, you still there?”
“Yeah, I’m still here. You—you made it out? Is it just you?”
“I made it out, yeah. And it’s not just me. Mirabelle’s with me. Plus all three of the fighters. We got out during all the chaos of the—“
“Of the raid, yes, I’ve heard.”
Dr. Stetson never sounds this... afraid?
“I know this is a big ask, but Mirabelle and I are hurt. Is there any way you can come here and help—“
“Are you both stable?” Dr. Stetson asks, interrupting Rowan again.
Ash and Griffin shoot each other a look that I can’t quite decipher, but it doesn’t look good, that’s for sure.
“I mean, sort of—“
“Then no, I can’t come Rowan, I’m so sorry.
Your father... He’s not happy since he can’t get a hold of you or Jett and with the raid and the Northside getting involved—I can’t risk it.
I need to think of my family. If I get arrested, or if your father finds out I’ve helped you and makes me disappear, my wife and daughters won’t be able to afford to live. ”
“But—“
“I’m sorry, Rowan. I—I can’t help you.”
The line falls dead.
Rowan turns to me with wide eyes. I take a second to really take him in. Now that I can actually see him, there’s no denying the paleness of his skin and the sweat dotting his forehead.
He looks terrified.
I’m sure I look the same.
I don’t think I’m going to die. Despite the stinging pain, I’m pretty sure the cut on my shoulder has slowed its bleeding significantly, especially with Rage helping to keep pressure on it.
But I’m not sure about Rowan’s injuries. When I think of someone getting shot, I think of someone dying.
“What—what do we do!” I ask, the trembling from earlier returning as the stress from the situation makes my mind start spinning.
Rage lets out a low growl, his large hand twitching against where he’s still holding pressure on my cut.
“Take a breath, Sweetheart,” Griffin growls. “Your scent. It’s making it hard to think.”
It must be going crazy right now. My jaw clamps shut as I force my lungs to expand. I can taste the bitter aftertaste of my fear in the back of my throat.
“S—Sorry,” I say.
Ash doesn’t even comment on my apology. He paces back and forth in the room like a caged tiger, his lips curled back in a snarl.
“This is a fucking shit show,” he growls.
“We need to find someone with some sort of medical knowledge,” Griffin says slowly.
“No shit, Sherlock! The one person we know might as well have said ‘fuck off, you’re on your own’! Do you know anybody, ‘cause I sure as hell don’t!”
Ash says it sarcastically, but when Griffin purses his lips in silence, I put my own anxiety aside long enough to open myself up to our bond.
Griffin is hesitating. But hesitation means he’s holding something back.
“Do you?” I ask, my eyes going wide with hope.
Not because of me, but for Rowan.
“Not exactly,” he mutters. “But it’s better than nothing.”
“The rest of us can’t do that mind-reading shit you two can do,” Ash snaps, waving between Griffin and me, “So you’re going to have to fucking spell it out for the rest of us.”
“I knew some ring girls who picked up shifts at some of the fighting rings I used to go. They’re not professionally trained or anything, but they’re better than nothing.”
“Do they know how to patch up a bullet hole?” Rowan rasps.
“Doesn’t hurt to try and find a girl that does,” Griffin says, seriously.
“What’s the catch?” Ash asks, crossing his arms over his chest. “There has to be another kinda catch for you to be all tight lipped about this.”
“The only way I know how to contact them... is through my dad.”
My eyes go wide and a soft whine leaves my throat when I feel the intensity of the emotions swirling around in Griffin’s chest.
He glances at me before his lips pull back in what I think is his attempt at a reassuring smile. It looks more like a grimace, than anything.
“Yeah, so not great.”
“The fucker that sold you to that hellhole?” Ash asks, his expression going serious.
“Yeah, that guy,” Griffin sighs.
A crazed gleam twinkles in Ash’s silver eyes. He even cracks his knuckles.
“Glad I didn’t get rid of the truck yet, then. When do we leave? I’ve been in the mood to knock some fucking heads around.”