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Somehow, the morning drifts into the afternoon before my eyes.

I doze off between visitors, submitting myself to regular check-ins from the women.

Mom brings soup I can barely eat.

Charm updates me on club gossip.

Even Ingrid stops by, awkward but trying to make me feel at home.

She’s just a teenager, though. She doesn’t understand the complexities of all this.

"Bjorn sends his love," she says. "He wanted to come, but... the wheelchair doesn't do great with the stairs here."

"Tell him I love him too," I say. "And that I'm sorry I haven't visited more."

"He understands. We all do." She fidgets with her phone. "Is it true? About Dylan working with the Patriot?"

"Yeah," I admit. "It's true."

"That fucker," she breathes. "After everything he put you through, he was also?—"

"Language," Mom warns from the doorway.

Mom might not be her mother, but Ingrid respects her just the same.

"Sorry. But seriously, what a piece of shit."

I can't help but laugh. "Yeah, that about covers it."

The afternoon sun is slanting through the window when commotion erupts outside.

All I hear are raised voices and motorcycle engines, getting louder and louder.

I try to sit up, but Regnor appears in the doorway. "What's happening?"

"Stay put," he orders. "Club business."

"What kind of?—"

"Dylan's here."

My blood freezes. "What?"

"Showed up at the gate. Says he wants to make a deal." Regnor's expression is murderous. "Has information he'll trade for safe passage."

"You can't?—"

"I'm not doing anything yet. Runes and Fenrir are handling it." He crosses to me, sits on the bed. "But I need you to stay here. Stay calm. He doesn't know you're back from the hospital."

"What if he?—"

"He won't get past the gate." His hand finds mine. "Trust me."

I want to argue, to demand to know what's happening, but another voice cuts through.

"I'll stay with her," Mom says from the doorway. "Go handle what needs handling."

Regnor kisses my forehead, then stands. "I'll be back."