Chapter 43
The pain was the first thing I felt when I opened my eyes.
A searing, relentless agony that radiated from my back and consumed every other thought.
For a moment, I couldn't remember where I was or what had happened.
Then it all came crashing back in terrible clarity: the woods, the platform, the whip, the brand.
I tried to move and immediately regretted it as fire lanced across my skin.
A whimper escaped my lips before I could stop it.
"Cade? Oh my God, you're awake!" Luce's voice.
I blinked, trying to focus my vision through the haze of pain and medication.
The room was unfamiliar, plush, private, with soft lighting and expensive-looking furnishings.
From the beeping machine, I guessed a hospital room, but not a standard hospital room.
My eyes caught on a large mirror positioned on the wall, angled so I could see the entire room without turning.
The sight of it made my stomach clench; they'd placed it there because I couldn't lie on my back.
"Don't try to move," another voice said, Melody. I turned my head slightly and saw her sitting beside Luce. Behind them stood Silvia and Megan, their faces drawn with worry.
"Water," I croaked, my throat raw and parched. Had I been screaming? I must have been.
Luce held a straw to my lips, and I sipped gratefully, the cool liquid soothing my throat but doing nothing for the agony that pulsed through my body with each heartbeat.
"How long?" I managed.
"Twenty-four hours," Melody answered, her voice gentle. "They kept you sedated while they treated the worst of it." Twenty-four hours. A full day lost to darkness while they pieced me back together. I could feel thick bandages covering my back, the pressure both comforting and agonising.
A nurse entered then, her face professionally kind as she checked the monitors beside my bed.
"Good to see you awake, Miss Turner. How's your pain level on a scale of one to ten?" I almost laughed as if pain like this could be quantified.
"Eleven," I whispered. She nodded, adjusting something on my IV.
"I'll increase your medication. The doctor will be in shortly to discuss your treatment plan."
"What happened?" I asked, though I wasn't sure if I was asking the nurse or my friends. "After..." The nurse gave me a sympathetic look.
"You're at Harrowdon Private Hospital. You've been under our care for twenty-four hours now.
We're treating your injuries and managing your pain.
" Clinical, professional, avoiding the why of my injuries.
I supposed that was for the best. I looked at my friends' faces, searching for answers.
Megan looked pale and shaken, Silvia's eyes were red-rimmed from crying, and Melody's usual cheerful demeanour was subdued.
But it was Luce who seemed most affected; her face was haggard, dark circles under her eyes, as if she hadn't slept at all.
Before I could ask more questions, the door opened again, and a middle-aged man in a white coat entered.
"Miss Turner, I'm Dr Reynolds. I've been overseeing your care." He approached the bed, his manner calm and reassuring. "How are you feeling?"
"Like someone whipped and branded me," I said flatly. He didn't flinch at my bluntness.
"Yes, well. We've been treating the burns and lacerations on your back.
The good news is that while the injuries are severe, they're not life-threatening.
You're looking at a hospital stay of four to five days, during which we'll continue pain management, wound care, and start you on a course of antibiotics to prevent infection.
" He went on to explain the treatment in more detail, wound debridement, dressing changes, and possible skin grafts if the burn didn't heal properly.
I tried to focus, but the pain made it hard to concentrate, and the clinical language only served to distance me from what had happened.
As if this were just another medical case, not my body that had been brutalised.
"I think that's enough for now," the doctor concluded, noticing my glazed expression. "You need rest. Perhaps your visitors should return later?"
"I'm staying," Luce said immediately, her tone brooking no argument. The doctor looked like he might object, but something in Luce's expression made him reconsider.
"Very well. But the rest of you should give Miss Turner some time to rest." Melody, Silvia, and Megan said their goodbyes, each touching my hand or arm gently, as if afraid I might shatter.
Once they were gone, the nurse adjusted my medication again, and a warm numbness began to spread through me, dulling the worst of the pain.
"Better?" Luce asked, taking my hand in hers.
"A little," I admitted. The edges of the agony had softened, though it still throbbed with every heartbeat. "Luce... what happened? After I... after I passed out?" Luce's face crumpled, and for a moment I thought she might break down. But she took a deep breath and squeezed my hand.
"Max came to find me," she said, her voice steady despite the tears gathering in her eyes.
"I was in the library. He told me what was happening in the woods, and I just..
. I ran. I called my dad on the way, told him to meet me there, but by the time I arrived.
.." Her voice broke. "You were already unconscious.
There was so much blood, Cade. And they had already.
.. the brand..." I closed my eyes, unable to bear the pain in her expression.
"Then what?"
"James Killingham showed up right after me.
I think my dad must have called him for some reason.
I've never seen him so furious. He called an ambulance immediately and had you brought here.
Everyone's in a shitload of trouble, Williams, the guys, all of them.
There's a full Trivium investigation underway.
" I opened my eyes again, a thought occurring to me.
"Why did Max come for you? How did he know to come for you?" Luce hesitated.
"He said... he said Ryder told him to find me.
That Ryder was trying to stall for time, to stop it, but he couldn't do it alone.
He said that you were accused of conspiring with Damien, but Ryder knew I knew the truth.
" The memory hit me with the force of a physical blow: Ryder's face, streaked with tears as he held my hands.
His broken whisper: I'm sorry. I have no choice.
I'll fix this, I swear to God, I'll make this right.
The way he'd clung to me even as Logan and Cole took their turns with the whip.
My emotions swirled, impossible to untangle: hatred, betrayal, confusion, and underneath it all, a stubborn, unwanted tenderness that refused to die.
He had hurt me, marked me forever. But he had also tried to stop it. He had wept for me.
"Cade?" Luce's voice pulled me back to the present. "Are you okay?" I wasn't. I would never be okay again. But I nodded anyway, too exhausted to explain the war raging inside me.
"Just tired," I whispered, letting my eyes drift closed as the medication pulled me under. The last thing I felt was Luce's hand in mine, anchoring me as I slipped back into darkness.
I awoke to hushed voices and the persistent ache in my back.
The pain was still there, a constant companion, but slightly more manageable than before.
I blinked, orienting myself. The luxury hospital room came into focus, and I saw Luce pacing near the window, phone pressed to her ear.
A camp bed had been set up beside mine, rumpled sheets evidence that Luce had been sleeping there.
She looked exhausted but freshly showered, her hair damp and clothes changed.
I had been in and out of consciousness. How long had I been out this time?
"I know, Dad," she was saying, her voice strained with forced cheerfulness.
"But I'm fine, really. Cade needs me here.
" A pause. "Yes, I heard about the meeting.
No, I don't think... Dad, please. I'm not leaving her.
" I shifted slightly, wincing as the movement pulled at my wounds.
Luce noticed I was awake and quickly ended her call.
"Hey, sleeping beauty," she said, coming to sit beside me. "How are you feeling?"
"Like hell," I admitted. "But maybe a slightly less fiery circle of hell than before." She attempted a smile, but it didn't reach her eyes.
"That's progress, I guess."
"How long was I out?"
"About twelve hours this time. It's afternoon now," she said. It had only been two days since all this happened, but it felt like forever. "They came in to change your dressings while you were sleeping." I was grateful for that small mercy.
"You look tired," I said, noticing the dark circles under her eyes. "You don't have to stay, you know."
"Don't even start," Luce warned. "I'm not going anywhere." I didn't have the energy to argue, and truthfully, I was grateful for her presence. The thought of being alone with my pain and memories was unbearable.
A knock at the door interrupted us, and I glanced at the mirror to see who it was. James Killingham stood in the doorway, impeccably dressed as always, though there was a weariness to his face I hadn't seen before.
"Miss Turner," he said, his voice gentle. "May I come in?"
I nodded, and he entered, closing the door behind him. He approached the bed, his eyes scanning my face with what looked like genuine concern.
"How are you feeling?" he asked.
"Everyone keeps asking me that," I said, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice. "How do you think I'm feeling?" He flinched at my tone.
"Fair enough. The question was... inadequate."
"Why are you here, Mr Killingham?" He sat in the chair Luce had vacated, his posture straight but not stiff.
"I wanted to check on you personally. And to inform you that the investigation has been completed." My heart rate picked up.
"And?"