Chapter 24
Morning comes quietly, gray light bleeding through the curtains with the city on the other side of the window still half-asleep. The world feels paused, suspended in a rare moment of stillness.
Blake is curled into me—where she belongs.
Her head is tucked beneath my chin, and her warm breaths blow across my collarbone with every soft, slumbering exhale.
One arm is slung across my chest, and the other is tucked beneath her small frame.
Her hair is a mess, the dark locks falling over her face and splaying across the bed behind her.
She is so peaceful. I’ve seen her sharp and coiled tight, fighting against the world, but this version of her—tucked against me—is unguarded and vulnerable.
Like she knows she’s safe when she’s with me.
When she sleeps, there isn’t an ounce of tension in her muscles.
I lie still, breathing in the faint lingering scent of her lilac shampoo, afraid I’ll break the spell if I jostle her.
I don’t do this. I’ve shared beds before—sex and distraction meant to fill space or silence—but not like this. The quiet closeness and sense of rightness? It’s new. Dangerous. Addictive.
I slide my thumb gently along her shoulder, across her shoulder blade, and down her spine, memorizing every curve of her skin. She stirs, brushing her nose against the crook of my neck as she lets out a sweet, soft sigh.
Fuck… I could get very used to waking up with her in my arms and her tiny body nestled against mine.
Her long lashes flutter open, slowly revealing her soft chocolate eyes. They find mine instantly, and she sleepily murmurs, “Morning.”
“Morning, Doc.”
Her lips curve into a faint smile, and she snuggles closer, her knee nudging my thigh. The intimacy of it hits me square in the chest, figuratively knocking the air out of my lungs, and I kiss the top of her head without thinking.
We lie tangled together for a while in silence, except for the soft sound of our breaths. My arm is snug around her back, and I hold her against me as she lazily traces the patterns of ink swirling over my ribs.
Mindlessly dusting my fingers along her spine as I stare at the ceiling, I quietly confess, “I know this is ridiculously new, but I’ve never met anyone like you.”
She stills, her body tensing slightly. Shit… I’ve spooked her. Without saying a word, she resumes tracing my tattoos.
“I’m not saying…” I pause, craning my neck and tilting my head to see her face as I search for the right words.
“I’m not throwing around the L-word… I’m not that reckless.
” Blake exhales a shaky laugh, a mixture of relief and nerves tangled together that causes the corners of my mouth to lift.
“But I have feelings for you. Real ones. And I don’t usually get those.
I just… I know this could be something. If you want it to be. ”
Silence stretches between us, but I don’t fill it. I don’t want to rush her. Her fingers curl against my skin. “I’m not good at this, Jagger.”
“Me neither.”
She lets out a long exhale, softer than a sigh, then looks up at me. Her guard is lower than I have ever seen it, vulnerable in a way that causes something fierce and protective to unfurl in my chest. “I like you,” she admits. “Which is… terrifying.”
“I’ll take terrifying.” I pull her tighter and press a long, soft kiss against her hairline.
We lie there, suspended in our own little fragile bubble, as I fight the urge to keep my mouth shut.
But because I can’t leave well enough alone, I gently nudge the other elephant in the room.
“About last night…” She tenses, and her heart starts to race, thumping against my chest. I add quickly, “You don’t have to tell me anything.
I mean that completely. But you can. If you want to. ”
Her heart races a little faster, and she swallows hard enough that I catch the audible gulp. “It’s… complicated.”
“I’m good with complicated.”
“Really? You’re good with complicated?” she scoffs.
“Not usually,” I admit. “But I’m willing to try.” Willing doesn’t begin to describe the lengths I would go through to make this work.
Her fingers flex anxiously against my side, and I can see the war playing out in her eyes. The urge to finally let someone in, battling against her instincts to protect something—and someone—bigger than herself.
“I’m here for you. In whatever way you want me,” I insist softly. “You can tell me anything.”
Her inner turmoil surges, her mouth opening, closing, and opening again like she’s trying to find the courage to tell me what I already know. “Okay.” Her voice trembles slightly. “I—”
The ring of Blake’s cell phone tears her attention from me, and I can practically see her walls rise. I’ve lost her… “I should…”
“Yeah,” I agree, already nodding. “Go ahead.”
She reaches for the phone on the nightstand and answers, still half-tucked beneath my arm. “Hello?” Her face scrunches, and her tone turns cautious. “Hello?” She pulls the phone away and glances at the screen before pressing it back to her ear. “Hello? I can’t—”
The color visibly drains from her face in an instant, like someone flipped a switch. Not only does her skin go pale, but her eyes widen and become unfocused. She shakes against me, like the floor just dropped out from under her.
“Blake?” I nudge her gently, though my tone is rough, trying to garner her attention. When she doesn’t reply, I sit up and take the phone from her trembling fingers. I put it on speaker without thinking, and the broken, terrified cries of a woman fill the room, turning my blood to ice.
“Say hello.” A deep male voice carries through the phone. His tone is calm and cruel, completely unaffected by the screams of the woman beside him.
“Buh… Blake…” the woman cries weakly, her voice raw.
A sound that is somewhere between a gasp and a sob escapes Blake. “Zahra!” she exclaims, slapping her hand over her mouth. “Oh my God… Zahra.”
My vision tunnels as the man leisurely speaks again, every muscle in my body going rigid. “Do we have your attention now, Dr. Hart? Does this jog your memory?”
“Yes,” Blake chokes before pleading, “Please! Please don’t hurt her!”
A dark, low chuckle filters through the speaker. “Far too late. We’re almost done with her, though. We’ll leave her at the hospital. If you hurry, she’ll still be alive. Maybe.” Without another word, the line goes dead. For a half second, there is nothing but silence.
I shove from the bed, and Blake immediately follows, her hands shaking violently as she drags on a pair of pants, struggling with the zipper and button. Her breaths come in short, panicked gasps as she readies to leave, babbling almost incoherently. “Zahra… Fuck… Oh, God, Zahra.”
Not bothering to lace or tie my boots, I grab my car keys from her desk.
I don’t ask questions or demand answers.
There will be time for that later. Right now, every instinct in my body is screaming for us to move.
“Blake. Hey. Look at me.” When she doesn’t, I catch her wrist gently.
My touch snaps her from her haze, grounding her slightly.
With my eyes not leaving hers, I softly instruct, “I need you to put your shoes on. We’re going. We’re going to get to her.”
She nods frantically, her eyes glossy with fear. Without bothering to untie them, she wiggles her feet into each of her sneakers. I take her hand and lead her to the Jeep parked across the street from her building. “Seatbelt,” I insist before shutting her door.
The drive to the hospital is a blur. Speed is inconsequential as I race through the narrow roads of Jadiriah. My hand is clamped around Blake’s so tightly I’m afraid I might be hurting her, but she grips it back like I’m the only thing tethering her to her sanity.
“Zahra… Please… God, please…” she whispers over and over like a prayer.
I give her hand a tender squeeze. “We’re almost there. Just a couple more minutes.”
“I did this…” she mutters to herself, solemnly shaking her head as my words fall on deaf ears. “I’m sorry…”
The hospital comes into view, looming ahead like hope and a threat wrapped in cracked concrete. Blake unbuckles her seatbelt and grabs for her door handle as I begin to slow. “Blake,” I bark, reaching for her and slamming on the brakes, as she slips from my grasp and out of the Jeep.
“Zahra!” she screams, sprinting through the parked cars and looking for her friend, as fear and fury tear through me in equal measure.