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“Home. Or what passes for a home,” her voice was low and laced with annoyance.

Hemlock heard the undertone in her words and wanted to help her. “Charlie?—”

“I know. My face is fractured. I’d hoped it wasn’t. But it is.” She was done being looked at like she was pathetic and tired of being ignored. She was more than an

X-ray.

“We weren’t ignoring you. We want to be one hundred percent sure there aren’t any underlying issues to be worried about,” Razor responded.

“Is there?” Charlie asked as her hand hovered over the doorknob.

“Not that we can see.”

“Charlie,” Hemlock’s voice was calm, but insistent. He’d always had that way about him. Serious but compassionate. “It’s not something you can just walk away from. It could get worse.”

“It’s fine. I’ve had worse,” she muttered, turning the knob and pulling the door open. She needed out of there. Out of the sterile smell of antiseptic and the weight of their concern.

Charlie walked out and didn’t stop until she got to the bus stop. If she were lucky, she wouldn’t get mugged before she got home.

Her boots clicked against the pavement as she made her way toward the bus stop. The weight of her bruised, fractured cheek and damaged pride left a dull throb in the back of her mind. She could still hear Hemlock’s voice, soft but insistent, echoing behind her, but it didn’t matter anymore. There was nothing more to say.

At least the X-ray had confirmed what she already knew: no hidden fractures in her skull, no internal bleeding, just the fracture of her cheekbone. But the ache in her face was enough of a reminder that she’d been on the receiving end of a punch she hadn’t seen coming. Not that it was anything new. She’d been punched, kicked, and worse over the years, but tonight had been… different. Maybe it was the way the lights had flickered in the hallway, the way the air had been thick with tension before it all exploded.

She stepped onto the bus, the doors hissing closed behind her. She didn’t bother looking around for a seat. The bus was half-empty, the usual collection of drunks and the occasional insomniac heading home from a late shift. Charlie settled into the nearest spot by the window, staring out at the dark streets. Her face throbbed, but the rhythmic hum of the engine and the soft jolt of the bus seemed to settle her, just a little.

Her place wasn’t really home—not anymore, not for a long time. It wasn’t even a cramped apartment with peeling paint and windows that wouldn’t close all the way. It was a cheap suite atan even cheaper hotel. But it was hers. Just like this life was hers, messy and fractured as it was.

As the bus rolled on, Charlie’s mind drifted to the fight. The way her opponent had looked at her just before it all went down, that split second where everything had gone cold. If she was being honest with herself, it had been her mistake. She had let her guard down, maybe not physically, but emotionally. She hadn’t expected the sucker punch. She had been too busy sizing up the mood, looking for any hint of trouble.

Not that it matters now, she thought, rubbing her hand across her cheek absently, the cool pressure almost soothing.

The bus hit a pothole, jarring her out of her thoughts, and Charlie sat up straighter. She was close now. Another few blocks and she’d be there.The city outside was a blur of lights and shadows, but inside, the hum of the bus was oddly comforting. Even if she had little, she had this, her own way of getting through, no matter what life threw her way.

And if she was really unlucky? She’d deal with that, too.

Chapter Five

Charlie walked into the lobby of the hotel and barely passed the front desk before the manager stopped her. What he said next was unsettling. “What did you just say?”

The manager’s face drained of color as his hands gripped the edge of the front desk. His eyes darted nervously to the side, and he swallowed hard. “We’ve had nothing but complaints about noise coming from your suite since your sister arrived.”

Charlie’s confusion deepened as she stepped closer. “I don’t have a sister, and no one should have been allowed into my room,” she informed the man and watched as he paled even more. “You let someone have a key to my room?”

“Not me.”

“But someone that works here gave a perfect stranger a key to my room?”

“That’s… that’s impossible,” he muttered so low it was almost as if he spoke for his ears only. “We don’t issue keys without proper identification.” As he stared at Charlie, he asked, “Are you sure you don’t have a sister?”

Charlie felt a chill creep up her spine. The strange, disjointed feeling she’d had when she’d entered the hotel lobby. The eerie sense something wasn’t quite right… now it made sense, but it also made everything worse.

“I think I’d know if I had a fucking sister, asshole.”

Rushing towards the elevator, Charlie hit the button repeatedly until the damn door opened. Panicked, she rode the elevator to the fourth floor. When she stepped into the hall, she could see the door to her room was cracked. Digging through her purse, she found the pepper spray and flipped it on.

Using the tip of her shoe, she toed open the door. Tears came hard and fast at the disarray inside the room. Furniture was up ended; her clothes were strewn across every viable surface and on the floor. Strips of fabric were everywhere. Everything she owned looked ruined.

“Oh my,” the manager’s voice came from behind her.