SEVENTEEN
T hey say love makes you do crazy things—things that go against everything you believe in and everything you think you are. Things you’d never fathom you’d be able to carry out. For so long, I refused to believe one’s mind could be coerced so easily into committing crimes in the name of love. But falling for Rowan—and being loved so unapologetically—has proved every single one of these claims right.
He watched me. Stalked me. Invaded my privacy in so many moments of my life. If I had any brains in my skull, I’d run far away from this man and go back to what life was before him.
Except… there is no before Rowan. There’s only the aftermath of him loving me, of me being completely engrossed by his fierce claim over my heart. I couldn’t go back to that “before” even if I wanted to. Because the moment he asked me to be his, it’s like something shifted in the universe and every other possible door of my destiny slammed shut.
I’ve called Rowan my monster before, not because I’m afraid of him, but because I understood from the very beginning the kinds of things he was willing to do—the lengths he’d go to—to get what he wants.
Firing my bodyguard was tame, Cam told me. But stalking someone for years and falling madly in love with her through a bunch of screens? That’s pretty crazy. That’s pretty fucking insane. And so is turning a blind eye to the fact. So at this point, I don’t even know who’s crazier between the two of us.
I’m watching the news on the TV upstairs, following Rowan with my eyes on the screen. It’s old footage of him visiting the White House and shaking hands with various politicians, despite the news being fresh.
The Coalition occupied two-thirds of the Ridge after recently being pushed back. Political scientists are speculating Austria has a play in this, in helping them. And the question on everyone’s lips is, “What will Commander Rowan King do about that”?
“It’s not Austria,” he says from behind me, startling me.
I turn around, seeing him lean against the doorframe with his arms crossed at his chest, muscles bulging against his black T-shirt.
“The EFW…?” I ponder, lifting myself to a sitting position on the couch.
Rowan nods, and a knot forms in my gut.
“What are you going to do? You can’t tell the country about their existence, can you?”
“No. It’d be like telling them aliens are real,” he snorts. “I’m going to have to lie. I’m going to have to make allies with people who don’t deserve it. Because the alternative…” He walks into the room, dragging a hand through his hair. “The alternative is they win, and the whole fucking world loses instead.”
I don’t even dare ask him what the hell that means. It’s as if he’s telling me over and over again that the boogeyman is real. And every time he does, I bring my knees closer to my chest, hiding in my shell.
I turn back to the TV, changing the program to some random movie I don’t intend to watch.
“Angel…” he groans, approaching me. His hand caresses the top of my head and I close my eyes, focusing on the feeling of him. He slides it down to my chin, lifting it up so I can look at him. “Talk to me. What’s going on in that beautiful mind of yours?”
“Don’t ask me that,” I say, jerking away from his touch. His nostrils flare, and a sense of pride flashes through me at the fact. “I’m not ready to talk to you about last night.”
“Dove—”
Before he can say whatever he wants to say, his eyes slide over to my ringing phone on the glass mini table, the vibrations making it spin slowly in place. I extend my hand forward to pick it up, an unknown number flashing on the screen.
“Can I get some privacy, or is that out of the question now that I’m living in your home?”
“ Our home,” he drawls. “Who’s calling?”
I puff out a sigh of frustration, dragging a hand through my hair as I tap to answer the call.
“Hello? Who is this?”
“Dove Finnegan?” a woman asks almost immediately.
A beeping sound in the background muddles her voice, along with a bunch of different conversations happening all at once.
“Yes, it’s me,” I say, my body frozen in place.
“I’m calling from St. Francis Hospital. Your mother, Clarise Finnegan, was brought here an hour ago after an unfortunate car accident. She’s in surgery right now.”
My eyes snap to Rowan’s, wide in shock.
“Um,” I say, swallowing back tears. “How bad… how bad is it?”
There’s a short pause. “We’re doing everything we can to save her.”
I nod frantically, even though she can’t see me. “Okay, thank you,” I mumble, shutting down the call.
I get up from the couch, moving past Rowan, who follows me around with his eyes.
“Dove?“ he calls out from somewhere behind me.
I go into the walk-in closet and choose a random pair of jeans and a T-shirt, trying my hardest not to have a breakdown right now.
“Angel…” he echoes, and I turn to meet his eyes, rage and despair twisting all my features into an almost ugly cry.
“I’m going, Rowan! Don’t even think to tell me otherwise.”
“You know that’s not possible,” he says.
“I don’t care! Besides, I bet you have spies working for you in the hospital anyway.” I laugh nervously. “I’m surprised you haven’t implanted a GPS tracker in me yet.”
His eyes narrow, jaw clenching at the same time.
“It’s on the list.”
“Oh, is it now?” I shake my head while pulling the jeans up to my hips and buttoning them up. “What about a shock collar too, then, like the fucking President put on his wife? God !”
“Keep giving me this attitude, and I’ll buy you one today.”
I sniff back tears, going into the en-suite bathroom to roughly brush my hair, tugging at the tangled ends until some of them break.
“Come here,” he says, following me inside. His hand brushes my shoulder, gently pulling me into his chest.
“ No ,” I cry out. “You don’t get to touch me after what you told me last night. You had no right, Rowan. No right to do what you did all those years! Watching over someone is one thing. But stalking me? Watching me in my privacy, following every step I take?”
“Come here, angel. Let me hold you.”
He pulls me in, more forcefully this time, and I have no choice but to follow his command.
“I hate you. I hate you so fucking much!” I cry, pounding his chest with my open palms.
He holds my head with one hand and my waist with the other, keeping our bodies close together.
“It’d probably be better for you if you did, but you don’t. Not really. You just hate that you love us so much.”
“What you did was crazy. Do you at least understand that?”
“I never said it wasn’t.”
I take a few long breaths, trying to calm down, before I push myself away from him once again. To my surprise, he lets go this time.
“I need to go see my mom,” I say, wiping away my tears. “I don’t know if she’s going to make it.”
Even saying those words out loud breaks something in me I’m not sure how to fix.
First, my brother. Now my mom too. This can’t happen. She can’t die on me. I won’t accept that.
“Give me half an hour to close down the hospital. Then we can go see her. All right?”
Close down the hospital? Sure, another thing to add to the list of Rowan’s obnoxious plans. I don’t even question this one. As long as I get to that damned hospital, he can do whatever he wants.
“Fine,” I rasp, resuming brushing my hair.
I see his figure in the mirror in front of me—in stark contrast to mine, a sobbing and disheveled mess. He looks calm, collected, and cold as ice. The face of Commander Rowan King, not the face of my lover. As if this is some sort of attack against his own, and he needs to figure out his plans to strike back.
He opens his mouth to say something, but the words never come out. Instead, he takes his phone out of his pocket and starts making calls.
We enter the hospital through the rear atrium, away from the main avenue. No reporters are here, and I wonder if somehow Rowan made it so that no one knows where we are. My entire body tingles from all the stress that courses freely through my aching veins.
Rowan holds my hand as he makes his way through the empty corridors like he knows exactly where we’re supposed to go. I let him do it, since I don’t have much energy in me to deal with the situation. I just want to see my mom.
We reach the main desk, and the receptionist—a kind-looking, middle-aged woman—immediately notices us. Lines cover her earth-brown skin, as if she spends too many hours on the job.
“Clarise Finnegan,” Rowan says, placing a hand on her desk, leaning forward. “What state is she in? When can we see her?”
“I’m sorry, sir, but only family members can—”
“I’m Dove Finnegan, her daughter,” I chime in. “Please, can you tell us where she is?”
She looks at me, her lips thinning as she nods.
“She’s still in surgery. From what we know, a speeding car hit her as she was crossing the street. She hit her head, causing internal bleeding. One of her lungs got punctured too. She’s in a precarious state right now, but the doctors are doing everything they can to help her push through. As soon as she’s out and you can see her, I’ll let you know.”
“It’s bad, but… she’ll make it, right? She’s going to be all right,” I say, voice trembling as Rowan slides his arm around my shoulders, bringing me closer to him.
“I’m really sorry,” the woman says.
“Who’s the doctor in charge of this?” Rowan asks.
“Franco Pierce. I can assure you, sir, he is very good at what he does.”
“I know. He’s the best in Washington. Keep us posted, please. I want an update every hour with her condition.”
“Well, I mean, since you closed the entire hospital down… sure, I can do that.” The woman rolls her eyes, then looks down at the scattered papers on her side of the desk.
“Do we have a problem, Miss…” Rowan looks at her name tag, eyes narrowing on her. “Abena?”
“None at all,” she says, forcing a smile. “It’s just kind of unfair to the other visitors, don’t you think? All of you politicians think you can just wave a magic wand and get it your way while the rest of us sit back and let you do as you please, whenever you want.”
I can practically feel Rowan’s rage simmering underneath his skin. He smiles back at her, but doesn’t say anything. He could, though, couldn’t he? He could use his power to get her fired, or God knows what else he’s thinking of right now.
But I relax a little when I feel his chest release a breath instead.
“I do apologize for the inconvenience. But for reasons I am not at liberty to reveal, this was the only way we could be here with Clarise right now. I hope we can get out of your way as soon as possible and let you get back to saving lives.”
Abena nods, looking somewhat satisfied with his answer. But not enough not to give him a side-eye look when we leave her desk and head for the waiting room. I smile apologetically her way before we both disappear by taking the corner.
“Sit down, angel. This could be a while.”
I plop down onto a chair, nervous and defeated, propping my elbow on the armrest as I rub my forehead with my hand.
“You don’t have to stay. I’m sure you have more important things to do today,” I tell him.
“There is nothing in this fucking world more important to me than you. I’m here.”
I look up at him, eyebrows furrowed from the nerves still swarming in my gut.
“You haven’t even apologized.”
“That’s because I’m not sorry,” he says, very matter-of-fact.
He plops down in the chair next to mine, knees apart and forearms on his thighs. A nurse rushes down the corridor, in the distance, and we both follow her with our eyes.
“Seriously? Then how do you expect me to forgive you?”
“You don’t have to forgive me. Hate me or love me, it makes no difference to me. You’ll still be mine.”
“You’re infuriating.”
He turns his head to look at me, a faint smile plastered on his lush lips.
Goddamn him. He knows I love him too. I even don’t have to say it; it’s probably written all over my face right now. I open my mouth to say something, but his phone rings in the pocket of his slacks.
He groans, pulling it out. “What?” he asks.
It doesn’t take long before he gets up from his chair, lifting a finger in the air to tell me it’ll take a moment. I nod, following him with my eyes until he reaches the end of the corridor and resumes his conversation. I zone out for a few long minutes, looking at nothing in particular, when a pair of white Crocs enters my field of vision.
“Dove Finnegan?” The man’s voice startles me.
I lift my gaze to him, noticing he’s wearing a white scrubs and a blue shirt underneath. This must be doctor Franco Pierce, the one the receptionist was talking about.
“H-Hello. Yes. How is she?” I ask, getting up and crossing my arms at my chest.
“Stable right now. You can see her for a few moments if you’d like, while we transfer her into her new room.”
“Yes, please. Thank you so much. I just need to go tell my—”
“Ah, sorry, if this isn’t a good time, I’ll come back in a few hours to get you. Like I said, you can only see her for a few moments if you come with me now.”
I weigh my options, looking in the distance at Rowan, who is still on the phone. He’s rubbing his forehead, annoyed at whatever news the person on the other line gives him.
“No, it’s fine, I’ll see her now, thank you,” I say, getting up to follow him.
If I can only be with my mom for a few moments, I’ll probably get back here before Rowan ends his call anyway.
“So… so she’s okay?” I ask, hurrying after him. “I thought the surgery was going to take a few hours.”
We take the corner into another corridor—a long, dark hallway where no one seems to be working right now.
“Doctor Pierce?” I press on when he doesn’t answer.
“Right this way,” he says, completely ignoring me.
We take another corner and I stop walking, the hairs on the back of my neck standing up.
For some reason, this doesn’t feel right. I shouldn’t be alone out here, even if Rowan closed down the hospital. My apartment was just broken into recently, after all.
“I’m sorry, but I think I’ll get back to my—”
The rest of my sentence trails off as someone presses a hand to my mouth, grabbing me from behind.
I try to scream, but it comes out muffled, as if I’m under water.
Doctor Pierce sees it—all of it—then continues walking, completely unfazed.
I kick my legs back, thrashing in my captor’s arms. A sharp pain erupts on the side of my neck, a needle poking through my skin while foreign liquid enters my bloodstream.
I hear Rowan’s voice in the distance, desperate and rough as he calls for me.
I try to call out his name, but my lips are numb.
My eyes roll to the back of my head, and within the next few seconds, all I see is black.