"You should sleep."
Should. Would. Could.
Three words that definitely didn't apply to the equation of sleep plus me at the moment. All that equaled was a hot mess of boiling rage, divided by ice cold fear. Fear that I'd nearly died last night, that I was even now treating the man that was going to get out of that bed and finish what he started hours ago. Namely, Jeremy's hand contracting on my throat until he either suffocated the life from me or went the merciful route and just snapped my neck.
And there I was, setting up an IV rack that had seen better days before FDR was President, making certain he lived to complete that nefarious deed. The last of the sterile coconut water was in place, and I took my time inserting the needle into my assassin's arm. Or my Alpha's arm, I should say. He'd probably prefer that title to the other.
Observe my level of caring.
"Lotte," Antonio tried again, voice soft and weak. But it was steady, and would probably grow stronger as the day progressed. "It is nearly dawn. You should slee—"
I didn't bother to hide my feelings on the topic at hand, tossing a glare over my shoulder. "Funny, isn't that what you should be doing right now?"
He met my hostility with a level stare of his own, the glass of freshly squeezed kiwi juice paused in the act of heading for his lips. I suppose that look was enough to send most people that worked for him running for cover. Or at least apologizing for whatever it was that they had done wrong. For me, it was the shit-flavored frosting on my craptacular week. Therefore, it had little power over me.
"I'm worried about you," he replied after a long moment, bringing the neon-green concoction to his mouth. He winced slightly at the tart acidic flavor, but took a measured swallow anyway. "You need to keep up your strength."
"For what, exactly? You guys prefer them healthy before you kill them?"
This time the wince didn't come from the juice. It didn't come from the fact that he was nearly sitting upright—something he definitely should NOT be doing at this stage of his healing—a forest of pillows behind his head propping him up. It came from my questions. And speaking of those, was it wrong of me that I took comfort in the fact that, without the pillows, he didn't have the strength to sit up on his own? Probably. But this was the face of the woman that didn't care anymore.
Because this was the throat of the woman that remembered all too well the strength in Jeremy's hand as it started to tighten. Stars, he had really meant to kill me in that moment. Before the… whatever it was in me met the… whatever it was in him… and decided to have a party beneath our skins without our consent.
I stared down at the would-be murderer in question, taping the needle in place. Jeremy was pale, still as death. Only the slight movement of his chest let me know that he still lived. Instinct had me muttering beneath my breath about a lack of a proper vitals monitor, fingertips reaching out to find his pulse. All it took was the barest brush of contact, of the tips of my fingers against his throat to have that party start up again. Heat blasted off of him, so feral and strong that I thought it would sear my fingerprints straight off my fingers.
Cool, distant wind inside me answered that heat. Like invisible rain trying to put out a mystical fire. And like every time a cold wind hit a hot one in the sky, thunder rumbled inside my head and lightning arched between us.
His eyes rolled behind his lids, his mind fighting for consciousness, before I jerked back my fingers. Once the contact broke, he lay still again, a faint sheen of sweat on his brow the only indication that something had happened at all.
"Son of a…" I swallowed the rest of that, unconsciously rubbing my fingertips against my jeans. "Just what in the world have you done to me?"
He didn't answer of course, and for some illogical reason that just pissed me off even more.
"I will not apologize for the actions of my Alpha, Lotte."
I jumped, having forgotten he was even there for a moment. Realizing that he was answering the question I'd intended for Jeremy.
"You see, there's that word again," I sat down on the little stool between their bedsides, picking up my makeshift charts and jotting down the latest readings. "That one freaking word that has literally ripped my world apart."
"You still have yet to tell us where you heard it the first time."
Ah, here it was. That long talk that Antonio had promised me just last night (god, had only been last night that life had made sense?). I rubbed a hand over my face, fighting off the urge to scream. In fear or frustration now, I had no idea. "If that's an opening to confess all my sins, Mr. Sorrentino, you're talking to the wrong girl."
"You can still call me Antoni—"
"No," I jabbed a finger at him. "No, you stopped being 'Antonio' the moment you locked me inside that house. Antonio was a man I thought I could trust with my life. And there it is," I growled, watching his expression close down, his eyes take on the same stubborn tint that Jeremy had used last night. "There's the look I was waiting for, the one that invites me to tell you everything and get nothing in return."
"You can't know."
"Says who? This real Alpha person?"
He closed his eyes, taking long, measured breaths. As if trying to dig into a reserve of strength he didn't have any more. "Jeremy is the real Alpha. You are part of this now. There's no escaping it."
I cursed beneath my breath, laying down Jeremy's 'chart' and taking the half-finished juice from Antonio's hand. "Just shut up, Mr. Sorrentino. You shouldn't be talking right now. Even with your Wolverine-style healing, you're still in critical condition."
My fingers moved up his wrist, feeling for his pulse. His fingers closed over mine, firm but not painful.
"Lotte, I need to know where you heard that term."
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," I tried to tug free, and wonder of all wonders, managed it. Much to his dismay. "So why bother."
"Try me."
"I dreamed it."
His nostrils flared, as if he could smell the difference between truth and lie on the air. Maybe he could. Who the hell knew anymore? "You are telling me you… dreamt it?"
"Yup," I answered without missing a beat, trying again for an accurate reading of his pulse. "I dreamt the whole thing. This Cain person, the death of Michael Braxton and how it was done. Even the news that they were planning to pin it all on Clay. I have visions that come true. Everyone in town was right about me. I'm a witch. A vision-having, pure trouble-inducing witch."
He frowned, catching my fingers once again. "I'm being serious, Lotte. Your life depends on it."
Sometimes I just hated it when I was right. He didn't believe me. At all.
"So am I," I said right back, tugging free and going for the pulse in his neck instead. "You know, for being whatever the hell you all are, you're a pretty narrow-minded, bigoted bunch. You have the healing factors of comic book characters, but have a hard time believing something else unexplainable can exist. As for my life depending on your questions? Well, your Alpha over there has pretty much decreed its forfeit anyway. Given all that info, ask yourself this: what do I have to lose in lying to you?"
It was his turn to shake his head. "Let me speak with Jeremy when he's awake. I'll… think of something."
My turn to shoot him a level look. "I thought you wouldn't apologize for the decisions of your Alpha."
"My Alpha doesn't have all the information in this case," he said bluntly, wincing slightly. "Do me a favor and don't cause any more trouble until I talk to Jeremy."
"The only talking you'll be doing is from beyond the grave if you don't shut up and rest," I said, helping to ease the pillows out from beneath him until he lay flat. "Hush, now. We're done talking. Sleep. That's an order from your doctor. And right now that outranks your Alpha."
"Lotte, please," he tried to catch my fingers with his again. "You've always been like a daughter to me since…" he trailed off, licked his lips, tried again. Switching tactics in mid-thought. "You've been like a sister to Clay and Nick. We feared that this day would come, and did everything we could to prevent it."
"I said hush. That means no talking."
His fingers finally found mine, intertwining. "Not until you promise me that you'll listen this time. Listen to Nicky, to Clay and Elena. Do what they tell you. Promise me, and I promise I'll do everything I can for you."
Now why did that sound like a lawyer cautioning a client that's about to hit death row? I sighed again.
"It's not like I have a choice. Nick's right outside that door, listening to everything. Trust me, my chance at escape vanished when…" My throat went tight at the thought, nearly choking off the words. "When Aunt Karen left."
He squeezed my hand, trying to be comforting. "Promise me."
The words were forced from an unwilling throat, but I said them. If only to get him to settle down and rest. "I… promise."
As if those were magic words, he closed his eyes, asleep before I could untangle his fingers from mine.
Nick wouldn't make eye contact with me when I stepped out of the so-called infirmary. Which suited me just fine. I didn't want to look at him right then, anyway. I didn't know what I would have done if I did. Attacked him? Asked him to hold me while the last of my sanity crumbled to dust? Asked him to finish what Jeremy had started just to make this whole nightmare go away?
"You were listening," I heard myself say instead, eyes on the hardwood floor.
"Yeah," he said roughly.
"Then you know what happened between me and your Alpha. You know what your father promised me."
"Yeah," he repeated. "Just as I know what you promised him in return."
"Peachy. So we're all on the same page."
I started down the stairs, the tray containing the dishes I'd used in my hands. Nick fell into step behind me, a shadow far more dangerous than anything I could imagine. It didn't surprise me to find Clay and Elena in the kitchen, nor the fact that they leapt to their feet like… well, like any of the concerned family members I'd dealt with in my years as a surgeon. If the dark shadows under their eyes were any indication of how I looked, it was a miracle we were all upright.
"Mr. Sorrentino's on the mend," I announced, heading straight to the sink and depositing the tray. "He's by no means out of danger, but I expect him to make a full recovery if he follows my instructions. Mr. Danvers is still unconscious. I have him hooked up to an IV for fluids, and will continue to monitor him throughout the night. I don't suppose I can convince you to run him to a hospital, can I?"
"Its… not an option for us," Elena said softly.
The dishes hit the belly of the sink with more force than was necessary. "Yeah, I know," I said darkly. "Everything's a big bloody secret here. And don't bother with the platitudes, okay? I don't want to know the reasons why, and the next person that tries to tell me that the secrets and imprisonment are for my own good is going to get punched in the eye."
An awkward silence fell over the kitchen, and I hit my maximum dramatic pause limit for the day. I spun around, ready to deliver a scathing tirade that would have made Maleficent proud.
And just stopped. Because for the first time since I'd stumbled into this mess, they all looked human. Human and hurting and scared, and wanting all this to be over just as much as I did.
Elena was staring down into a cup of coffee long gone cold, a single tear sliding down her face. Clay stood beside her, a hand on her shoulder, his expression that of a man trying to hold it all together and wanting so desperately to vent all his pain and frustration. Nick was a shadow on the wall by the stairs, an unwilling bodyguard whose purpose wasn't to protect me so much as it was to protect his family from me.
From what I knew at any rate.
"I feel like we failed them," Elena said softly.
"We did," Clay answered.
"They are still alive," I said.
Clay looked up, his expression twisting between gratitude and anger that I was there at all. "That's not what we meant."
"Does this face look like it gives two craps what you meant? Because if it does, let me clarify a few things. Number one, I don't care what you were referring to, Clayton Danvers. Number two, I don't care what it is you all are involved in. Number three, you are missing the point that there are two men up there still clinging to life. That isn't a failure by any count. What you are all doing right now is."
Oh, now that scored a point. Nothing like poking at a sore spot to get someone's complete, undivided attention. And in a rare fit of courage, I stepped forward and pressed my palms against that tabletop.
"Here's how to do not do that, okay? Sleep. Every one of you needs it. I'm fairly certain whatever else you all need to do tomorrow involves being rested to do it well. When Jer—Mr. Danvers wakes, we'll reassess his condition. Until that point, there is nothing you will accomplish by moping around her and playing the blame game. Now which one of you has my cell phone?"
"We can't let you make any calls," Clay answered.
I lifted an eyebrow. "Okay, if that's the way you want it. Keep in mind that my sister is waiting on a call from me. I didn't call her last night like I was supposed to. If I don't call her in the next five minutes, she's going to come looking for me. Based on her previous track record, where do you think she's going to run for help?"
Clay's mouth twisted a moment, but finally he nodded. "One call, and you'll do it on speaker, with us in the room."
"I gave my word to Antonio, Clay. I'm not going to shout for help and bring more trouble on your head."
He wasn't ashamed to look at me. Or more to the point, he wasn't ashamed to look pointedly at the bruises on my lower face (to match my raccoon eyes), and then glance at Nick. As if to say he knew just where my word began and ended. I wasn't going to get privacy for a good long while in his book. If, that is, I had a good long while left to live.
"Fine," I growled, holding out my hand.
It was Elena that reached into her pocket, pulling out my phone. She sat it on the table, selected my twin's number from the list, and hit speaker. If I survived this, I was so going to upgrade to an iPhone 5. The one with that little fingerprint lock on it.
"Lotte!" Char answered, sounding like she'd literally ran to the phone, like she hadn't slept at all. "Good god, Lotte, tell me you're okay."
I glanced at my three-pack of babysitters, and got a nod of approval to speak. "I'm fine, Char. I'm checking in like I promised."
"No, you promised you'd be somewhere I could find you by now. Where have you been?"
"I… I can't tell you that. I just didn't want you to worry." How lame did that sound?
"Well, you failed miserably! Mother is in fits because I canceled the wedding tomorrow—"
"Why?" I snapped. "Why would you do that?"
"Uh, because you are obviously not okay and obviously not here with me. I'm not getting married while you are in trouble."
I sat down heavily on one of the benches. "Char, you shouldn't hold up your life for me. This trouble isn't going away any time soon."
"And neither is Elijah. Or the judge, for that matter. As in, I need to know where you are in order to prove to the judge that you haven't left town."
"Fuck," I hissed softly, with meaning. I had to tell her something. And inviting her to Stonehaven was a definite no-go. A piece of paper towel was pushed into my line of sight, black lettering reading off a name. "Ravenswood," I read, glancing up at Nick and seeing his nod. "I'm at Ravenswood with Nick and Antonio."
"Hello, Charlene," Nick leaned over the phone, pumping false cheer into his tone. "I'm so sorry that this is happening, that you've canceled the wedding. Look, we've received a tip—a threat more likely—and my attorney thought it was best to keep your sister and I somewhere safe until he followed it through."
"What threat?" Char asked, voice going dangerously quiet and flat. Her lawyer voice.
"We think someone named Cain is involved in Mr. Braxon's disappearance. My car was run off the road last night. When I got out to confront the other driver, I was accosted by men in ski masks. One of them slipped up and called the other 'Cain.' My attorney is working on the issue and will be in contact within the hour."
"Ravenswood," Char echoed, and I got the impression she was writing all of this down. "I know where that is."
"I'd advise you to speak with Mr. Grant before you come out here," Nick threw in quickly. "You won't make it past the front gates without his prior permission."
"Trust me, he's my next call. Lotte, sit tight. I'll get to the bottom of this before morning. You have my word."
She hung up, and I instantly leapt to my feet. Instantly knowing where Nick was headed with this story and not liking it one bit. "You can't do this to her, too," I said, grabbing Nick's arm. "Don't you dare lock her up inside Ravenswood."
"If she shows up to Ravenswood, I may not have a choice. Stay with Elena and Clay."
"Nick—"
He rounded on me, staring hard into my eyes. "My father owes his life to you, Lotte, but he and I still follow our Alpha's will. We'll do everything in our power to keep Charlene out of this, but not at the expense of exposing ourselves to others. You'll stay here and you'll follow our directions, and you'll do it because you promised my dad that you would. Don't go back on that promise. You're going to need all the allies you can get soon."
Uh, what now? What the hell—and I do mean what the actual freaking hell—did that mean?
If his goal had been to scare the anger out of me, he'd succeeded. "Where are you going?" I asked, voice coming out a touch breathy.
"He's got a car to run off the road," Elena said, slipping my phone back into her pocket. "And a trip to Ravenswood ahead of him."
Clay stepped back into the room, nodding once to a questioning look on Nick's face. I hadn't realized that he'd left the room to begin with. "Max is aware of the plan. He'll meet you at Ravenswood with a team."
"A team of what?"
"It's better you don't know," Elena answered, gently placing a hand on my shoulder. Almost comforting. Which meant I was either hallucinating the fact that Miss Hostility Incarnate had suddenly developed a heart, or I was finally on the verge of a panic attack of my own. "Come with me and I'll show you where you can rest."
"Stay here," Nick said again, fishing keys from his pocket and heading for the door. "I'm trusting you to hold to your word, Lotte. Look after my father and Jeremy. I'll be back as soon as I can."
"No," I shook my head rapidly and tried to follow Nick. "I'm going with Nick."
Oh god, Char! Why did he need a team to deal with my sister? Or was the team for the car? God, why did he and Max Grant need a team of anything at all!
Clay stepped into my path, his hands landing on my shoulders. "I can't let you do that, darling. You'll stay here. Don't try to run," he said, and I guess my face reflected the suicidal plan in my head to do just that. "Calm down and think this through."
But that was just it. I was thinking this whole thing through. I was thinking about the tingling in my fingers and the vision of Char's wedding day. It should have gone away with the news that the wedding had been canceled. I should have been jumping up and down with joy, ready to throw myself into Jeremy's hand right then and there and die happy because Char would live. But the vision was still there, an ache behind my eyes that grew stronger with each beat of my heart.
The vision had always shown her in her wedding dress. But that didn't mean it had to play out that way. Sometimes the images in the visions changed, shifted with the flow of time itself. The intent, the purpose, however. That always remained constant.
For some reason I just knew Char was wearing a long white dress today. Just as I knew the garden at Ravenswood had a lovely gazebo similar to the one in town…
I shoved against Clay's hands, got nowhere. If anything, I got treated to those hands wrapping around my waist, pulling me into a tight embrace. It wasn't a hug. Hugs were meant to be warm and reassuring. This was a grip, a firm binding that I had no chance of breaking out of.
"Don't let him kill my twin," I blurted, eyes pleading. Voice begging. "Call him, Clay. Please call him and tell him not to kill my sister. I'll do whatever you say. I'll die right here and now, but please don't let him kill her."
"Nick isn't a murderer," Elena said, stepping up beside us. "He'll do everything he can to spare her."
"I didn't lie to Antonio. I see things in visions, in dreams. They always come true. Char's in danger, Elena. We all are. Antonio was supposed to die on that road. He wasn't supposed to live. I changed that. I can change Char's fate, too. You have to let me try."
They exchanged a look, a seriously long look, before Clay slowly shook his head. "Let us try things our way first. If anything changes, Nick will call. Trust him."
There wasn't anything I could say to change their minds. I was going to stay at Stonehaven until they were done with me. No matter what. I don't recall what Elena said next, allowing Clay to escort me back up to that damned infirmary room and settle me into one of the beds.
