9. Kiara
Kiara
I awaken alone in a strange hospital room.
There are no windows in here. Just one large square skylight in the ceiling.
Lying here alone, with a view of the clear blue sky above me, is eerie. Like waking up in an open grave moments before dirt is shoveled in.
Am I dead?
Blinking hard, I notice the ache in my head.
I’ve never had enough alcohol to ever be hungover, but this has got to be what it’s like, right? Throbbing, hazy pain, small sounds hitting my ear too loud…
What the hell happened to me? That question blazes to life behind my eyes—bright, hot, and urgent enough for me to shoot up from the bed.
I regret the sudden motion when pain streaks through my skull.
“ Ow .”
Touching my hand to my forehead, I discover a bandage under my fingertips. No wonder my head hurts so much.
One terrible scenario after another spins through my mind in a merry-go-round of anxiety.
Abuse.
Assault.
Murder.
Words I know the men around me are all too familiar with.
My mother’s own story haunts me, stoking my fear even higher.
Have I become a victim just like her?
This may be my first time running away, but I know what mafia men do to women like me. I’m not that stupid.
Except, I obviously am that stupid.
Rory. I trusted him. Kissed him. Then he forced me outside, murdered two men in front of my very eyes, and drugged me.
The last thing I remember is losing control of my body.
My eyes sting with unshed tears. I dash them away while berating myself.
This is far from the first time I’ve been in a tenuous position, and I’m tougher than this.
Before hurting me lost its effectiveness, I suffered through a lot of abuse at Leo’s hands.
Watching him hurt Mae was far worse than anything he ever did to me, and Mae isn’t here for my captors to hold over my head.
Rory probably believes I’m weak, but if he thinks I’ll fold and give in to whatever it is he wants easily, he’ll be sadly disappointed.
I almost jump out of my skin when the door to my room pushes open, allowing warm hallway light to stream inside.
In steps a woman of average height with bright green eyes and dark hair woven into a thick braid. Navy blue scrubs. A gentle facial expression.
A kind smile. “You’re awake.”
The sincerity radiating from her reminds me of Mae. Did she get away?
Is she safely on her way back to France? I’ll never find out.
Despite the ache in my stiff limbs, I snatch the woman’s arm and pull her close.
“What is it?” Her eyes widen in concern. She begins checking me over for additional physical injuries.
“Where am I?”
She hesitates, which only unsettles me more. This shouldn’t be a difficult question.
Why is she regarding me like I just asked her some profound philosophical inquiry?
Clearly choosing her words carefully, she shifts her weight from one leg to the other.“You’re in the medical unit.”
My eyebrows knit together. The motion stings my forehead. “Right. But what hospital is this?”
“You’re not in a hospital.” The nurse spits out the words and turns to leave.
And abandon me to my fear and bewilderment? I don’t think so.
My fingers grab for the woman’s hand.
“ Please .” My voice hitches. “Tell me where I am. What’s going on?”
“Those responsible for you will explain everything in greater detail.” Her promise stabs a sharp blade through my heart.
Those responsible for me? Is she talking about Leo? Did someone contact him when they found me?
Fresh horror threatens to rip me in two.
This is worse than I thought. Way worse than getting assaulted or left for dead.
The mere thought of them returning me to Leo’s clutches after my escape attempt drenches my body with icy dread. He treated me terribly enough when I was cooperating. There’s no telling the horrors he’d subject me to after I humiliated him in front of his mafia cronies.
I’d take Rory drugging me for the rest of my days over that option.
Merde. Could Leo be on his way to collect me already? What if he’s here now, waiting?
Despite my best intentions to brave this out, a tiny whimper escapes my mouth.
“No harm will come to you here,” the woman adds, voice low like she’s disclosing a secret. “We’re on the Gallagher estate.”
The whole world stops, balancing on the microscopic tip of a needle. My eyes snap up to her sweet face.
I’m surprised my heart monitor doesn’t flatline.
“Did you say…” my voice disappears beneath the drumbeat of my own blood pounding in my ears, “…the Gallagher estate?”
Don’t barf. Don’t barf. Please, please don’t barf.
The woman nods, adjusting the IV feed to the left of my bed. “That’s right.”
The world tilts, and the blood whooshing in my ears grows so loud, I feel as if I’m drowning.
My mouth moves, but nothing emerges.
Her concise confirmation changes everything.
Everything.
She mumbles something about coming back with food, but I barely hear her. I’m too busy panicking.
The Gallagher estate.
As in… Shane Gallagher . The leader of the Irish Kings.
They’re the ones responsible for me now?
I realize I’m starting to hyperventilate and work to slow my inhalations.
This scenario is worse than anything I could have cooked up in my most wretched, ugly, gruesome nightmares. I’ve been abducted by the most vile, vicious, powerful Irish mafia in New York.
Words don’t exist to describe situations this bleak.
Panic doesn’t begin to cover it.
The Irish Kings have a long history with my family. They’ve been enemies of the De Lucas since before I was born. I don’t know any of the specifics. Us worthless daughters don’t exactly get a seat at the war room table.
Not that I’ve ever wanted one.
All I know is that the Kings are an Irish mob full of brutal, violent thugs. If I’ve been captured by them , this skylight hospital room might as well be an open grave.
There’s no way I’m leaving this place in one piece.
High above, I watch an airplane glide across the blue sky. I would give anything to be on a plane right now, headed anywhere but here.
I choke on a hysterical laugh. Here I thought nothing could be worse than getting sold on the auction block. Ha, guess the joke’s on me. Somehow, I managed to land myself in an even more dangerous situation.
Good thing I never traveled to Vegas to gamble. With my rotten luck, I’d probably wind up imprisoned in a casino, working as an indentured servant. Cleaning individual poker chips by hand.
Blinking hard, my eyes catch on a detail I didn’t notice before. Around the casement of the skylight window…is that a handle?
My pulse accelerates. It is. The skylight can be opened.
If someone could haul their butt up there, theoretically they could open the window and climb out onto the roof.
The someone in this scenario being me, of course.
I’m moving before I even understand what’s happening.
When I was a child, my mother used the gardens around the De Luca estate to practice her landscape painting. And while she did that, I climbed trees.
I’d sit on thick branches and let the breeze ruffle my hair.
I’m sure I’ve retained at least some of that tree-climbing agility. Sitting up with intention, I fold my legs beneath me and examine my trajectory.
Fresh, wild hope builds in my gut.
I can do this.
I’m going to scale that skylight like I’m freaking Spider-Man and pull myself to freedom.
Casting a sharp glance toward the door, I listen for approaching footsteps. Nothing. Just quiet.
I hesitate for only a moment before hopping to my feet on top of the hospital bed and eyeballing the distance.
It’s not that far.
With a little more height and a good jump?—
Wait a second.
As quickly as I can with an achy body, I climb off the bed and grope the side of the mattress.
Please, please, let there be…
My fingers curl around a plastic rectangle. I pull it out and…yes! A remote control!
I jam my thumb on the button and watch with ferocious glee as the hospital bed rises several inches higher.
I’m actually doing this. My second-ever escape attempt.
That’s when I notice the IV still stuck in the bend of my arm. It feels horrible and strange, but I don’t think twice about ripping the needle out of my skin. Drops of blood splatter the pajamas I’m wearing.
Oh hell’s bells . Pajamas.
How am I supposed to flee in these ? Another thought seizes me.
Where’s my money? And who changed my clothes? My entire face and neck burn when I imagine Rory doing it. But no, surely the nice nurse did…right?
Who cares! My brain screams. Focus on getting out of here first, worry about modesty later.
Once I’m free, I’ll have all the time in the world to stress over who stripped me down to my underwear while I was unconscious.
“Right.” I climb back onto the mattress, which is now closer to the bottom of the skylight.
A little jump is all I’ll need.
I push up onto my toes and manage to grasp the skylight handle. After a few failed attempts, the metal lever moves. Seconds later, the skylight opens. Above the casement, I glimpse…vegetation?
I squint. I was expecting a generic rooftop, but maybe the Gallaghers planted a garden up there. Seems pretty eco-friendly for a crime family, but what do I know? My only basis for comparison are the De Luca men, and I swear they got stuck in the caveman evolutionary stage.
Whatever. Here comes the tricky part.
I try to locate a handful of sturdy greenery outside the skylight’s opening so that I can struggle through the most awkward pull-up in the world. No amount of gym class could have ever prepared me for this .
I dig my fingertips into the earth I’ve found, praying I’ll feel thick, hardy roots or something I can use to haul my ass up. But as soon as I start dangling, I realize I’m not in great shape.
Whatever that kissing bastard drugged me with left me weak. My head still hurts enough that all this physical activity is dizzying. The moment I attempt to hang from my arm, the spot where I pulled out the IV announces itself.
I’m sore and bruised in multiple places, and my muscles throb with pain.
Guess I’m not eight years old anymore.