Chapter 9
CASSIE
I wasn’t sure I’d ever been as relieved as I was by the sound of Vigo’s voice, the shuffle of Hawk and Jagger as they moved around my bed.
I couldn’t see, but I knew it was them. Knew because they were always together and because when Hawk had held my hand inside the wreckage of my car he’d promised I wasn’t alone.
“I can’t see you.”
Not being able to see was terrifying, but not just because I didn’t know whether it was permanent.
For the time being at least, I was helpless.
Vigo squeezed my hand. “It’s okay.”
Someone tucked a piece of hair behind my ear and I knew that it was Jagger. Knew because the touch was tender and careful.
“The doctor said it might be temporary,” he said.
I turned my head, wishing I could hide from them, wishing they didn’t have to see me this way. “You should leave.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Hawk sounded angry. “We’ve been here since they brought you in. We’re not fucking leaving.”
“You didn’t sign up for this,” I said. “Just… go away. Move on. Find another girl to hunt.”
Rough hands grabbed my face, turning my head away from the pillow, forcing me to look at something I couldn’t see. “We’re not fucking leaving, Cass. Get used to it.”
I could almost see him staring into my eyes. Staring through my soul.
“Tell us what happened,” he said. “On the mountain.”
Bram had asked the same question.
“I don’t remember.” My voice was as flat — as dead — as I felt, but it was true: the last thing I remembered before Hawk’s voice through the darkness, his hand on mine while I’d been trapped in my car, was riding up the mountain, the sun shining, a warm breeze blowing through the windows of the Subaru.
I had a vague memory that I had remembered. That there had been a time after the accident but before my rescue when I’d known what had happened to me. But now I couldn’t remember a thing.
“What do you mean you don’t remember?” Hawk asked.
Bram had asked that question too, had sounded just as disbelieving.
“I just… don’t remember. The doctor said it’s not uncommon.”
It was a protective mechanism, Doctor Sterling had said. A way for my broken brain to protect itself from the most terrifying of memories.
Hawk swore under his breath, and I pulled my hand away from Vigo’s.
“I’m tired. You should leave.” I hated this. Hated being in a hospital bed. Hated being weak and wounded in front of them.
I just wanted to be left alone.
There was a moment of silence and I knew the Hawks were doing that thing they did: looking at each other, communicating silently like they had some kind of telepathy.
Then the door opened and the energy shifted, tension breaking through the moment as a stern voice — an older woman, I thought — spoke from across the room.
“That’s them.”
Footsteps hurriedly entered the room, followed by the shuffle of bodies.
“Let’s go,” an unfamiliar man said.
“Touch me and you’re going to lose that hand,” Hawk said.
“Then get moving,” said the other man.
“We’ll be back, mouse.” Vigo kissed me hard on the mouth. “You can bet on it.”
“Not if I have anything to say about it,” the older woman said.
Someone made an oomph sound.
“Sorry about him,” Vigo said. “He’s not as friendly as me, although he did warn you not to touch him.”
“Move,” another man said.
It was disconcerting, not being able to see anything, not being able to orient myself to what was going on around me.
“See you soon,” Jagger said, farther away from my bed now, moving toward the door. I thought.
“We’ll bring you some real food,” Vigo called out. “Definitely some Oreos.”
“She doesn’t need— ”
The door shut and I was enveloped in silence.
Alone in the darkness. The way I wanted it.