Aftershock

Prologue

Lilith

Seven years ago

“On three,” a man calls out.

It’s not the same one who kept telling me to stay with him on the ride here, to the hospital. His voice was a little high-pitched.

This new man’s voice is deeper. Low, steady.

Reassuring.

But I can’t focus on it for too long. There are hands touching me. Each one lands on a bruise. A cut. My arm, I think it might be broken.

Mom really went all out tonight.

“One…” a woman starts counting.

Please, be careful. Everything hurts.

As much as I want to say these things, it’s hard. My throat is raw and scratchy from screaming. Even if it weren’t, I’m too drained to speak.

Maybe if I open my eyes, they’ll see what I’m trying to tell them.

I try. Try. Try.

And fail.

My swollen eyelids are too heavy. My entire body is.

Dammit.

“Two…” she continues, unaware of my rising panic.

I can’t handle any more pain tonight.

Please.

“Three.”

Oh, God.

I brace for impact as I’m lifted off the gurney and onto the hospital bed. My teeth lock. Pulse blaring in my ears.

And…

The backs of my eyes heat as relief washes over me.

The landing isn’t soft, but it’s not nearly as bad as I thought it’d be.

No time to relax, though.

We’re moving.

“Okay, sweetheart, stay with me.” It’s the woman again, trying to comfort me, I think.

If I could speak, I’d tell her she’s doing a great job. That every kind word anyone says in this room helps more than she knows.

Even if what they said a few minutes ago didn’t sound all that great.

“Lilith Rayne. Fifteen-year-old female.”

“Possible domestic assault.”

“Vitals unstable, but she’s responsive.”

“Lost consciousness twice in transport.”

Yes, it meant I was broken. That I might die.

It also meant I was seen.

After years of Mom forcing the world to look the other way, I’m grateful to have so many people genuinely giving a damn about whether I live or die.

For the first time in what seems like forever, I matter.

“Lilith.” The bass, gravelly voice from before rumbles my name. It’s louder than the murmurs around us. Louder than the bed’s wheels as they roll, roll, roll. “My name is Dr. Alaric Lockwood. Can you open your eyes for me?”

Dr. Alaric Lockwood.

Even in my dazed state, I appreciate how beautiful his name is.

Kind of.

Because my priority isn’t his name or his voice. What’s important is that he’s not trying to move me somewhere private to keep Mom’s abuse quiet like Dr. Simmons does.

Since she pays Dr. Simmons a ton, he always clears out his practice whenever she calls. Ultrasounds, scans, stitches. He does everything, no questions asked, no records kept. Asshole Simmons simply patches me up and sends me back like nothing happened.

Sometimes I think if I ended up dead and she asked him to bury the body, Dr. Simmons would just nod and dump me into an unmarked grave.

Not today, though. It took years, but eventually the screaming and the sounds of her beating me got so loud that a neighbor called it in. They’re probably the ones who moved in last week, who have no idea how connected she is, how dangerous the people around her can be.

Whoever they were, they saved me. I was this close to passing out when the police and paramedics pounded on our door until I thought the hinges might give.

I’m alive. I’m alive.

And Dr. Lockwood is going to make sure I stay that way. I just know it.

“Lilith.”

Oh, right. He asked me to open my eyes.

“I…” My mouth is dry. When I gulp, I swallow a mouthful of blood. Gross. “Can you help me?”

The words feel foreign on my tongue. I learned a long time ago to stop asking for help, once I realized everyone around me was terrified of my mom.

Renata Rayne, partner at one of the biggest criminal law firms in New York, has the power to make her problems disappear.

She bribes anyone who so much as comments on my bruises whenever I show up at school with them. If that doesn’t shut them up, she starts dropping her clients’ names, letting the threat hang in the air.

No one wants to fuck with them.

“Yes, I can.” The bed slows, but doesn’t stop. Then, there it is—the light pressure of Dr. Lockwood’s warm thumb on my eyelid. “Tell me if it hurts.”

“I’m fine.” Gratitude clogs my throat. I can’t remember the last time anyone handled me this gently.

“That’s good.” He’s steady but careful as he lifts my eyelid.

Too quickly, white light floods my vision, washing everything away. I grimace, shrinking into the hospital bed, desperate for the darkness where it doesn’t hurt.

“Hey,” he says quietly. “Lilith, are you okay?”

The sound of his voice cuts through the pain and sudden fear.

It gives me something to cling to.

That’s why I ignore the blaring lights, blink the world into focus, and then…

There he is.

My savior.

He’s right there, towering above me, tall and broad. Hope flutters in my chest, seeing how huge he is. He’s the kind of man who could stand up to my mom without flinching.

“Lilith.”

My eyes snap to his navy-blue ones that match his scrubs. I can’t look away, taking in his short black hair, the light scruff shadowing a jaw so square it almost looks carved. He looks like a warrior.

“There she is,” the woman whose voice I recognize from before murmurs. “Such a pretty shade of blue in your eyes. We’ll do everything to make sure they stay open, sweetheart.”

That’s not what they said in the ambulance.

They said things that made it sound like I might die tonight.

And for what?

“An A-minus on my math quiz…” I croak as they wheel me through swinging doors. “Disappointment.”

“What math quiz?” Alaric’s brow furrows.

“School… I messed up.”

“Lilith, I don’t care about your grades.” Rage overtakes the confusion, the tendons in his throat working. His jaw tics. “Stay with me.”

“Hurts…” Dark spots dance around the edges of my one open eye. “Stomach…”

In my periphery, I catch Alaric’s hand moving.

Then—“Ow!”

“She’s tender across the abdomen.” His features harden. “Let’s prep for imaging.”

The second he lifts his hand, my body loosens, the ache easing.

It’s the same kind of relief I felt earlier. When the police officers pulled my mom off me. They dragged her out of the penthouse in cuffs as she went on and on about calling their captain, and still, they didn’t let her go.

Maybe their captain would.

Maybe he already has, and she’s on her way to get me back.

I don’t want that.

Don’t want to see her.

Don’t want to die either. I don’t.

“You’re not going to die, Lilith.” Alaric leans over me, his eyes locking onto my open one. “Not on my fucking watch.”

Shit. I said that last part out loud.

“You’re still talking.” His lips twitch, and it’s almost…kind.

I’m grateful for that too. For him being one of the first adults who—wait, how old is he anyway? Thirty? Younger?—hasn’t looked at me with either pity or detachment.

As we navigate through the hospital, my thoughts begin to fade. The darkness creeps in again, heavy, tempting.

Sleep would be the easiest thing in the world.

“Get an IV now. Draw blood and get a scan ready. She’s got abdominal pain.” His voice is louder, more urgent. “Lilith, stay with me.”

I’d give anything to do just that.

I want to live.

But—

But—

My eyes roll back in my head. My jaw goes slack.

“Move.” I hear him bark. “Faster. Go.”

I’m sorry, Dr. Lockwood.

As I slip back into consciousness, one thing is clear. Nothing hurts anymore.

Dr. Simmons must have given me morphine while I was out. He only uses what he calls the heavy guns when Mom’s at her worst, which is usually around the anniversary of my dad’s death.

He’s been gone for twelve years, and she still resents him for leaving her alone with me.

Her only child.

The burden.

Except yesterday wasn’t about Dad. It was my grades.

But then the cops—it looked like they were going to take her away for good.

I thought they did. I was wrong.

Because if I’m at Dr. Simmons’s—

Oh, no. Oh, no.

They didn’t end up locking her up after all, did they?

She reached their captain after all.

Meaning that, soon enough, she’ll waltz in here and drag me home.

Fuck. Fuck.

Fuck.

She’s going to finish the job and kill me, I’m sure of that.

My chin quivers as memories come rushing back.

Mom, all up in my face. Her hands grabbing me, slamming me into the wall. Then she tackled me to the floor, where she kicked my stomach over and over.

Then my arms.

The sting of her pointy heel on my thigh was just as brutal.

She didn’t even break a sweat while she beat the crap out of me.

Look at what you made me do.

At five-one, I’m a foot shorter than she is. I’m also fifty pounds lighter and not by choice. She won’t let me buy weights, take self-defense or martial arts classes, or even get a gym membership like she has.

Fear sends a tremor up my spine as I remember, again, that I’m about to face her.

I’ve got to get out of here.

My muscles strain as I brace myself to get out of bed.

At the same time, I force my eyes open through the morphine. Once I’m able to look around, my temples throb as confusion settles in.

I’m not at Dr. Simmons’s.

The ceiling is too white, nothing like the soft cream at his private practice. And this bed, I realize as I concentrate, is the stiffest I’ve ever been in.

The air is wrong too. No expensive disinfectant reaches my nose.

And then there are the monitors. Their sounds are too loud.

Dr. Simmons knows better. Mom can’t stand noise, let alone the steady beep, beep, beep of the machines that say I’m still alive.

Where am I, then?

The next breath I take comes in deeper, fuller than usual.

Eyebrows scrunched, my gaze drifts lower, landing on the mask covering my nose and mouth.

That’s when it hits me.

The ambulance. The hospital.

The man in navy-blue scrubs.

Dr. Lockwood.

Alaric.

“Not on my fucking watch.”

I have to find him and tell him that if he really meant it, then he has to keep me here. That’s the only way I can be saved.

He’ll help me, right?

Right?

I don’t want to die so young.

Please.

Beep-beep-beep-beep-beep, the monitor goes as panic rises.

“Lilith. Hey.”

His voice.

I didn’t hear him come in, meaning he’s been here all along.