CHAPTER 27 #2
The words land like a warm blanket over my shaking body.
A shuddering breath slips out of me, and my tears finally slow to a sluggish crawl.
I sniff hard and sit back against the wall.
I drag my palms down my face. The wetness smears but doesn’t disappear.
It dries, making my face feel tight and uncomfortable.
My eyes are sure to be red, and my cheeks blotchy.
I was an ugly crier, even when I was younger.
She doesn’t look away, though. She doesn’t even flinch. Her expression stays soft, full of empathy that makes my chest ache.
“The only thing that keeps going through my mind,” I say with a raw voice, “is where the men were. And, if we hadn’t messed up … we would’ve been there with her. We could’ve prevented this.”
Windy’s mother shakes her head gently. “Nothing could’ve prevented this.
And my husband is finding out where her bodyguards went.
He’s in the hallway now, on the phone with the security company.
” She squeezes my shoulder, grounding me.
“Under no circumstances should you believe this is your fault. It’s not. ”
A choked sob claws its way out of me before I can stop it. “Them whose fault is it, Mrs. Carmichael? If we had been there …”
“Been there, nothing.” Her tone sharpens. It’s not unkind, but firm, like she’s cutting through the guilt before it can root deeper inside of me. “You all were there when it counted most. And it’s Michela, if you don’t mind.”
The beeping continues, sounding like a drum in my ears. It’s strong, steady, and puts me a little at ease. I look past Michela, staring up at Windy, breathing hard, trying to let her words sink past the part of me that only knows how to blame myself.
“Michela, while we were there, when it counted most. We weren’t where we are supposed to be.”
“Where’s that?”
My eyes meet hers, unmoving. “By her side.”
She gives me a small smile, tightens her grip on my shoulder, before she gets up from her knees.
Her husband walks into the room right as she does, and a thunder cloud looks like it’s setting up residence over his head.
He meets all three of our eyes, nodding once, before he looks over at Windy and her mother, who’s not cooing over her daughter.
He backs up. As much as I don’t like the idea of leaving Windy, we need to get to the bottom of why she was left unprotected.
Amos and Finian step out into the hallway before I do.
I can’t resist looking back over my shoulder just one last time, seeing Windy, all puffy-faced and looking fragile, before I leave the room and step out into the hallway.
Her father, Tymrin, jerks his head toward the chapel right next door.
We need privacy for a situation like this.
As soon as we step inside, Tymrin explodes.
“They were bought off!” he whisper-yells, glancing up at the door before looking at us again. “It’s taken me nearly an hour to hunt down the person in charge of their unit. He was knocked unconscious outside her home and has only just come to.
“Seems convenient,” I say, cocking a brow.
“Tell me about it,” he snarks, growling under his breath at the unfairness of it all.
“He got in touch with me as soon as he regained consciousness. He explained that his team turned on him, but he doesn’t know why.
All he knows is that before he lost consciousness, he heard one of them say that they had better get their payment for doing this. That’s it.”
“Payment? For what, to have Windy unprotected?” Amos asks, crossing his arms over his chest. “This is all so James Bond-ish that it doesn’t even sound real.”
“Just because it sounds like it, doesn’t make it any less untrue.”
“So, we have nothing,” I retort.
“We have nothing.” Tymrin nods.
“Fucking hell.” I walk around the chapel, running my hands through my short-cropped hair.
I try to think about anyone who Windy could’ve crossed, and I can’t think of anyone.
Windy is a nice woman who doesn’t cause any strife.
She’s not the type of person to double-cross anyone. “There has to be someone.”
Tymrin doesn’t say anything for a moment, but I can see the wheels turning in his mind. He flicks his eyes up to meet mine before dragging them away once more. He does it again, and I can see the questions circulating inside his mind.
“What?” I grind out, narrowing my eyes on him. I know whatever he’s about to say, I’m not going to like it.
“Have you double-crossed anyone lately, Rothschild?”
Growling, I bare my teeth at him. “It’s not on me, Carmichael.”
“Your father?” he asks.
Glaring, I deadpan. “Oh, yeah, a father who is as money-hungry as mine is will definitely try to kill the woman who’s in charge of it all.”
“There have been weirder things to happen.”
“Maybe in your world, but not mine. It’s pretty straightforward.”
Tymrin goes to say something else, but before he can, the door to the chapel opens, and another of Windy’s fathers sticks his head inside. His gaze drifts over all four of us before settling on Tymrin. “She’s awake.”
Before anyone can say anything else, we’re already moving.
The moment we step out into the hallway, Tymrin darts a hand out and grabs my elbow to keep me from entering the hospital room.
Turning to look at him, I flick my eyes down to his hand before meeting his eyes once more.
He drops his hold, but licks his lips as he prepares to rock my world.
“Do you think … Could it …”
“Have something to do with Windy?” I ask for him. He nods. “The thought has crossed my mind, but she hasn’t done anything to anyone for them to attack her like this.”
He nods. “That’s what I thought.”
I step into the room ahead of Tymrin. Even with Windy breathing steadily now, with the monitors beeping in a calmer rhythm behind me, something in my gut won't settle.
The antiseptic smell hangs thick in the air—sharp, chemical, clinging to the back of my throat—and it only makes the unease coil tighter.
I don’t think she double-crossed anyone. I don’t. The thought feels wrong and impossible.
But, still, my stomach churns.
It’s like some instinct down inside me whispering this wasn’t a random attack.
Something about her situation, connections, and past is tangled up in this.
I hate the thought. I hate myself for even letting it flicker through my mind like it is.
Yet it’s there, twisting low and cold, and refusing to be ignored.
I glance toward her bed, seeing her eyes blinking blearily.
She looks drugged, unfocused. Her eyes barely blink as they’re so swollen they can barely open.
I watch her chest rise and fall, the soft hiss of the oxygen they have her hooked up to.
She looks small in that hospital bed. Fragile in a way I’ve never seen before.
I hate it.
It makes the unease claw at my throat even more.
Because I can’t help but think it’s connected to her somehow … that she’s in more danger than any of us realizes. I don’t know how to protect someone from something I can’t see.
“Wh …” she sighs, fighting for energy. “What are you all … doing … here?”
I walk toward her bed. I fight the urge to wrap myself around her like a koala. Instead, I smooth back her deep, burgundy locks from her forehead. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be, sweetheart.”
She frowns, glancing between all of us. “What … happened?”
I don’t stop myself from taking her hand in mine. I love the feeling of her skin against mine. The tingle from our touch radiates up my arm, and I love the feeling. It means our bond is just as strong now as it was before.
“Someone pepper-sprayed you,” I say, watching as she pieces it together.
Suddenly, she gasps and tries to sit up. Her hands protectively go to her belly. Tears burn her eyes. “My baby.”
I lean forward. “Our baby is just fine, Windy.”
Her eyes snap to mine when she picks up the possessive note in my voice. Her eyes blank out, not allowing me to see what she’s feeling. Something nags at the back of my neck, but I don’t listen to it. Instead, I push forward and force myself to stay where I am.
“Our baby?” she asks. “Was it our baby when you threw me out of your office? Was it our baby when you snapped your teeth at me like some feral animal? No, I don’t think so. She’s not yours, Wolf. Same as me. I’m not yours, either.”
Leaning down, I get eye-level with her. “Ours, baby. You can fight this all you want to, but we’ll prove ourselves to you.”
She ignores my words and turns to look at her mother, who’s cooing at her from the other side of the bed. She smooths her hair back, and tears dance down her cheeks as she tries to comfort her daughter.
“Why are they here?” she asks her mother, and I see the softening around Michela’s eyes.
“Darling, if it weren’t for these three, we would have had a much different outcome tonight. They saved you.”
Windy rips her gaze from her mother, staring each of us down with questions in her eyes. There’s also something else there—a sort of approval—but I don’t want to get my hopes up. We’re a long way from being in her good graces, but I’m determined to get there.
We can’t live without her.
We don’t even want to try.