Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Xavier
The next morning, I wake early, my mind still lingering on Daphne’s situation.
Zach is sprawled beside me, one arm flung across his face, his breaths deep and steady.
I slip out of bed carefully, not wanting to wake him after he spent most of the night on the phone with Grey, arranging security for Daphne at Tiana’s women’s shelter that she took over for Kyle and Cassandra.
I remember in high school, how she spent a ton of time there after school volunteering. And my mom volunteered her time there, too, to help the battered women and kids.
I shower quickly and dress in jeans and a button-down rather than my usual scrubs.
The clinic is closed today, a scheduling decision I’m now grateful for.
I scribble a note for Zach explaining where I’m going, then grab my medical bag and the prescription I wrote last night for anti-nausea medication.
Daphne mentioned throwing up constantly during our appointment, a common but miserable side effect of pregnancy that I can at least help alleviate.
The women’s shelter is on the outskirts of town, a nondescript building with excellent security.
Another Devil Souls community project, though few realize the connection.
I check my rearview mirror habitually as I drive, a new paranoia that’s lingered since the brick incident.
The streets are quiet this early, just a few delivery trucks and early-shift workers on the road.
When I arrive, the shelter’s security guard, a prospect whose road name I can never remember, nods in recognition and buzzes me through the gate. “She’s in room twelve,” he informs me. “Had a rough night, from what Tiana said.”
“Thanks,” I reply, parking in the small lot. “Zach know I’m here?”
“Yes, sir,” he confirms. “Called him when you pulled up.”
I smile wryly. Of course Zach has them reporting my movements. After everything that’s happened, I can’t really blame him.
The shelter is quiet as I make my way down the hallway, most residents still sleeping. Room twelve is at the end, door slightly ajar. I knock softly.
“Daphne? It’s Dr. Blane. I brought something for your nausea.”
No response. I knock again, a little louder this time. Still nothing.
Concern prickles along my spine as I push the door open slightly. “Daphne? Are you all right?”
The room beyond is dim, curtains drawn against the morning light. I step inside, medical instincts taking over as I scan for my patient. The small space is sparsely furnished: a twin bed, a dresser, a door leading to what I assume is a bathroom.
Daphne sits on the edge of the bed, her back rigid, hands clasped tightly in her lap. She doesn’t turn when I enter, doesn’t acknowledge my presence at all. Something’s wrong. The silence in the room feels thick, oppressive, nothing like the peaceful quiet of early morning.
“Daphne?” I approach slowly, setting my bag on the dresser. “I brought that medication I promised. Should help with the morning sickness.”
She turns then, and the look on her face stops me cold. Her eyes are wide with terror, her face drained of color. A single tear tracks down her cheek as she stares at me, silently pleading.
Before I can process what’s happening, the bathroom door swings open. A man steps out, older, heavyset, with Riggs’s same cold eyes. In his hand is a gun, aimed directly at Daphne’s head.
“Well, well,” he drawls, lips curling into a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “If it isn’t the infamous Dr. Blane. Right on time.”
My blood turns to ice as I realize the trap I’ve walked into. No security alarm. No prospect rushing in. They’ve already been neutralized.
“You must be Daphne’s father-in-law,” I say, keeping my voice steady despite the fear clawing at my throat. My eyes flick to Daphne, silently assessing her. I see no visible injuries, but the gun is pressed against her temple hard enough to leave a mark.
“Jason’s uncle, actually,” he corrects. “Riggs’s father. The man your boyfriend murdered.”
I raise my hands slowly, palms out in a universal gesture of surrender. “Look, I don’t want any trouble. I’m just here to check on my patient.”
“Your patient,” he repeats, the words dripping with contempt. “My nephew’s whore, you mean. Carrying his baby while she hides behind the Devil Souls’ protection.”
Daphne flinches at his words but remains silent, her eyes never leaving mine. I can see her shallow breathing, the rapid pulse fluttering in her neck. Shock, fear, maybe both.
“She’s pregnant,” I say, emphasizing the word. “Whatever your issue is with me or with the Devil Souls, she’s an innocent party. Let her go, and we can talk.”
He laughs, the sound harsh in the quiet room. “Innocent? This bitch knew exactly what family she was getting involved with. And now she wants to give the baby, Riggs’s blood, to strangers?” The gun presses harder against Daphne’s temple, making her whimper. “I don’t think so.”
My mind races, assessing options, escape routes, anything that might get us out of this alive. The prospect outside must be incapacitated, not dead. Otherwise, the sound would have alerted others. Zach knows I’m here, but he thinks I’m protected. How long before someone realizes something’s wrong?
“What do you want?” I ask. “If this is about revenge for Riggs, I wasn’t even there when it happened.”
“But your boyfriend was,” he snarls. “And taking you will bring him running right to us. An eye for an eye. A loved one for a loved one.”
So that’s the plan. Use me as bait to draw Zach out. My stomach drops as I realize what this means. They want to kill him, and they’re willing to go through Daphne and me to do it.
“And what about her?” I nod toward Daphne, whose trembling has increased. “What’s your plan there?”
“She’s coming with us too,” he says, as if it’s obvious. “That baby is part of Riggs’s bloodline.
Daphne makes a small sound of protest, quickly silenced when he jerks the gun against her head. I take an instinctive step forward, doctor’s instincts overriding self-preservation.
“Careful, Doc,” he warns. “Wouldn’t want my finger to slip.”
I freeze, heart hammering against my ribs. “Okay,” I say, forcing calm into my voice. “I’ll do whatever you want. Just don’t hurt her.”
He smiles, an expression that chills me to the bone. “Smart man. Now, here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to call your boyfriend. Tell him there’s a problem with Daphne, that you need him to come here right away. Alone.”
My mind rebels at the thought of luring Zach into an ambush, but I nod slowly, buying time to think. “My phone’s in my car.”
“Use hers,” he orders, nodding to a cell phone on the bedside table. “And don’t try anything clever. I’ve got men outside who’ll know if you say anything you shouldn’t.”
I reach for the phone with steady hands that belie the chaos inside me. Daphne watches me, her eyes conveying what she can’t say aloud. Fear, apology, desperation.
“It’s okay,” I tell her softly, though we both know it’s a lie.
As I pick up the phone, a plan begins to form. It’s fragmented, risky, but better than nothing. I need to alert Zach to the danger without tipping off Riggs’s father. Need to give him some clue that this is a trap.
I dial Zach’s number, holding the phone to my ear as it rings. Once, twice.
“Daphne?” Zach’s voice comes through, alert despite the early hour. “Everything okay at the shelter?”
“Zach, it’s Xavier,” I say, keeping my voice casual with effort. “I’m with Daphne at the shelter. There’s a bit of a situation with her pregnancy. Could you come down? It’s pretty urgent.”
A pause. Zach knows me well enough to sense something’s off in my tone. “What kind of situation?”
I choose my words carefully, aware of Riggs’s father watching me intently.
“She’s having some complications. Blood pressure issues.
I could really use your help here.” The medical terminology is deliberately wrong, a red flag Zach will recognize immediately.
I’ve never asked for his help with a medical situation before.
“X,” Zach says slowly, and I can hear him moving, the jingle of keys. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” I reply, perhaps too quickly. “Just hurry. Room twelve. Come alone, don’t want to overwhelm her with too many people.”
Another pause, longer this time. “Room twelve. Alone. Got it. I’ll be there in ten.”
The call ends, and I hand the phone to Riggs’s father, praying Zach understood my hidden message. The fact that I mentioned blood pressure rather than nausea. The request for him to come alone, something I’d never ask given the security concerns of the past few weeks.
“Good boy,” Riggs’s father says, pocketing Daphne’s phone. “Now, we wait.” He gestures toward a chair in the corner. “Sit. And don’t try anything heroic. I’d hate to splatter the girl’s brains all over this nice, clean room.”
I sit, mind racing through scenarios, none of them good. Zach is walking into a trap, but he’s not stupid. He must have picked up on my signals. The question is whether he’ll bring backup, and whether they can get here in time.
Daphne’s eyes meet mine across the room, silent communication passing between us. She’s terrified but holding it together, one hand resting protectively over her stomach. I give her the smallest nod of reassurance, hoping it’s not a lie.
Now we wait, the silence in the room broken only by the sound of our breathing and the occasional creak as Riggs’s father shifts his weight. Ten minutes. That’s how long until Zach arrives.
Ten minutes to figure out how to save all of our lives.
* * *
Zach
The phone barely touches my ear before I’m barking orders, adrenaline flooding my system like a drug. Something’s wrong. Xavier’s in trouble at the shelter.
I’m already moving, grabbing my gun from the nightstand, checking the clip. My fingers fly across the phone screen, group messaging everyone I trust with Xavier’s life.