41. Wren
WREN
Everything hurts.
Especially my head when I think too hard about the beeping noise in the background.
I think of Stone.
Beep .
I think of my father.
Beep .
I think of Kerrigan and his disgusting sniffs.
Beep .
I think of the equations I did and what happened after.
My eyes open, and I blink rapidly, trying to adjust to the stark whiteness of the room. Mouthfuls of air do nothing to relax my lungs as they scream in agony with anxiety.
It’s going to be okay .
“Oh! You’re awake.” A pretty nurse flies in the room in blue scrubs.
I squint, trying to piece together how I got here.
My head cranes to the IV pole near my bed, and I follow the clear tube all the way to the crook of my elbow.
“Where—” My voice is more of a creak. “Where is Stone?” Pain scratches at my throat, and I don’t sound like myself.
Her nose scrunches, even though she’s busying herself with the bag of liquid draining into my arm. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I can’t give you any information on anyone who isn’t a family member.”
That’s absurd .
I want to yell at her and plead my case on why I deserve to know where he is, or if he’s okay, but I’m too afraid I’ll taste blood in my throat.
“Is he okay?” I whisper, refusing to give up.
There’s a knock on the door, and I sit up, wincing at the pain radiating through my skull.
“Can we have a minute?” A man wearing a shiny badge with a gun strapped to his side slips in the room.
The nurse nods once before checking my IV site.
Her whisper is hardly audible, but I hear her.
“He’s in surgery.”
Surgery ?
The beeping ramps up, causing the law enforcement to shift his attention to the heart monitor.
“Hey, it’s okay.” He tries to reassure me and takes a seat in the only available chair. “You’re not in trouble.”
The nurse pats my leg gently and scurries away. He clears his throat, then dives headfirst into the last few hours.
I appreciate it, though.
The sooner he leaves, the sooner I can find Stone.
“Wren Davis,” he announces.
I nod slowly, knowing my head will scream if I move too quickly.
“Jessie Davis’s daughter.”
I hate the sound of that.
“I think we’ve pieced together what happened, but if at any time I’m wrong, I need you to correct me. Okay?”
I barely manage a nod.
His brow furrows, and he rubs his hand over his five o’clock shadow.
“Before you start,” I rasp. “I need to know if he’s dead.”
His lips flatten, like he’s hesitant to tell me. I keep my mouth shut, but what he doesn’t understand is that I want Jessie Davis dead, even if he is my father.
There is no way I’ll ever feel safe again if he’s still alive and roaming the streets.
“Your father is dead. Yes.”
I sigh, and my heart rate slows—something he notices.
“And you are pardoned due to self-defense.” He pauses. “It was self-defense, correct? I can’t honestly think you willingly went to that trailer with those men.”
A tear slips down my cheek, completely uninvited.
It’s going to be okay.
“He didn’t give me a choice.”
He had Stone.
I stay quiet for the remainder of our conversation. I’m hardly present. I don’t jump for glee when he informs me that my father’s junkie right-hand men were caught and arrested, and I don’t mention how Kerrigan is a borderline pedophile—known from experience.
I just want him gone.
As soon as he leaves the room, making sure to tell me how my act of self-defense was one that will be spoken of for decades, I slide out of bed.
Black dots dance in my vision, but I rip the heart monitor off my finger and grab onto the shiny IV pole, trailing it behind me like a shadow.
Stone .
It’s a one-track thought.
My body hurts.
My pulse races with fear.
Surgery for what?
He’s alive, but how serious is it?
I drag a breath out of my tight lungs and peek around the corner, making sure the police officer is out of sight.
The hallway is desolate, so I wind farther down, taking baby steps so I don’t fall over and blow my cover.
I feel a cough coming, and I know it’s going to hurt, so I wince before I let it out. The smell of smoke fills my senses, and I realize that I probably inhaled it when the blast occurred.
Jessie Davis is a fool for trusting me, and he’s an even bigger fool for underestimating my knowledge of chemicals and their reactions.
I cough again, and this time, I have to put my hand on the wall to steady myself.
Shit, I probably have injuries.
I didn’t think to assess myself before climbing out of bed in search of Stone—something he would absolutely lose his mind over.
I keep moving anyway.
My skull throbs with each slow step, and my throat is even more raw than it was when I first woke up.
“Where are you?” I ignore the tear falling over my cheek. Fuck, where is he?
I don’t know how I’ll survive if he doesn’t make it. The thought is too much to handle, and the fear is unbearable.
I place my hand on the wall again.
There’s a faint voice that catches my attention, and I turn toward it and take off at full speed with my pole in tow.
“What do you mean she woke up and now you can’t find her?”
The nurse is standing in front of Evan, who is red-faced and beady-eyed. His hair is standing up in a million different directions, and I know it’s because he has pulled on the ends of it out of frustration.
“Evander,” I croak.
He doesn’t hear me, but Archer starts running full speed.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“Where is he?” I cry, clinging onto his shirt. My fingers bundle in the material, and I take a minute to read the scene.
They’re all here. Every one of my housemates.
And they all look like they came straight here after the game, wearing the suits they traveled in.
“Stone,” I demand, bringing everyone’s attention to me.
Evan takes me from Archer’s grasp, and the nurse is guiding us toward a chair.
“You weren’t supposed to come down to the surgery hall!” She is flustered and checking my pulse and eye dilation.
“Is he going to be okay?” My chin is quivering.
Evan stares at it but then shuts his eyes.
My head is buried in his chest a breath later, and he kisses my temple softly. “I don’t know, sis. I don’t know.”
An earth-shattering cry scrapes against my raw throat, and I shut out the pained faces of everyone staring at me.
I don’t stop myself from yelling out his name, even if it comes out as a broken whisper.
Stone may not hear me, but I know he’ll feel me.