Page 27 of A Forbidden Arrangement

Brutal.

Matthias:

I’m looking into who arranged this. Won’t be long until you can get your hands on them.

Images of just how much I’ll make them suffer float through my mind. I’m going to take my time, keeping them alive so that they dread each breath they take. Until they beg me to kill them. Then I’ll play with them some more. The human body can take a lot before it gives out, especially if provided with just enough medical aid to keep its heart pumping.

Bash:

Sounds like fun.

Damon:

Should we come?

Me:

Don’t bother. The second she’s awake I’ll be bringing her home with me.

Bash:

How are you going to explain that to her?

Me:

I won’t.

It’s less than twenty minutes before the doctors let me know I can head back in. I shove her door open but stop it before it cracks against the wall. She’s there, pale and still, surrounded by tubes and wires that don’t belong. A nurse leans over her IV and freezes when she notices me. Her hands twitch, and she takes a small step back.

“Stay.” My voice cuts sharply. “Finish what you were doing.”

Her eyes flick up, wide, then down again, scanning me in from head to feet. The IV line rattles as her hands shake. Thebag sways on its hook. She finally straightens, edging toward the door like she can escape without being noticed. I shift just enough to block her. My stare locks her in place.

“Is she okay?” The words scrape out raw, pulled from somewhere I don’t show anyone.

“Yes.” Her voice is thin as she repeats what the doctor already said. “She’ll be fine. Concussion. Pain meds. Rest.”

I want to question her more, but she drops her eyes and bolts.

Two strides close the space between me and Dahlia. The woman who walked out of my bed without a word, left me chasing shadows for months.

The sight fractures something inside me. She shouldn’t be here. She should have been with me.

I lean closer, lower myself until I can breathe her in. My hand drifts to the curve of her neck, knuckles brushing the soft skin at her nape.

One part of me wants the sound of their bones breaking under my fists. The other pounds one truth into me, harder than any blow could. I failed her. All the power I’ve built, all the money, all of my reach. It’s all worthless. She still ended up here.

I sit on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under my weight. For a long time, I just stare at her. Too fragile. Too breakable.

My hand moves to her arm, deliberately slow. I trace down it until I find her wrist, circling it lightly with my thumb. Her skin is soft, warmer than I expected. Her heartbeat’s there, steady beneath my touch.

I go over every angle of her skin, noting every injury I didn’t protect her from. That thought coils tight in my gut. I squeeze once, not hard, just enough to feel her life under my hand, to remind myself she’s still here. It’s the only thing keeping me steady.

I lean closer. The blanket slips low, so I pull it higher, careful of the IV taped to her hand. My fingers smooth the fabric over her shoulder, tucking her in like she might slip away if I don’t hold on to her.

A strand of golden brown hair has fallen across her face. I brush it back slowly, knuckles grazing her cheek on the way. She doesn’t stir, doesn’t flinch. Just breathes, quiet and even, like she knows she’s safe.

Whatever she’s gotten herself into. I’ll find it, cut it out, until there’s nothing left to hurt her.