Page 99 of Crushed Vow

I flung the door open and began walking out.

He followed, but didn’t try to stop me this time. Just his voice, hauntingly soft behind me. “They won’t let you in unless I come.”

I didn’t turn. “Then call them, Cassian. Let them know I’m coming. It’s the least you can do.”

And I was gone.

The short walk to the opposite house felt like a mile.

My entire body screamed with every step—the bandage around my thigh was beginning to itch beneath the denim of my cotton trousers, and my side throbbed where the knife had kissed me.

The padded bra pressing against my chest only reminded me of everything that had been taken. I kept my head low.

I rested once I got inside. Caught my breath. Forced myself not to cry. Then I changed into a looser pair of jeans, tugging them over the gauze. The shirt I wore was long-sleeved and covered me well, but I still felt exposed, a body stitched together in shame.

I walked out, my pulse loud in my ears. Slipping into Cassian’s garage, I picked one of his cars and drove off without looking back. Straight to the hospital where Ethan was being treated.

By the time I made it to the hospital, I was breathless and lightheaded. But the receptionist gave me a nod, letting me through.

At least Cassian had made the call.

When I reached Ethan’s ward, I saw him sitting up slightly, his face pale, thinner than yesterday. The color had drained from him.

His smile still found me. “Charlotte. Are you okay? You look...” He hesitated. “You look sick.”

I forced a small laugh and sat down carefully, hiding the pain as best I could. “I’m fine. What about you? Any improvement?”

He winced. “No. Apparently the wound was badly infected before they treated it. But the doctor said I’ll be fine. Eventually.”

Just then, the door creaked open.

The woman who stepped in had soft curls tucked behind her ears and wore scrubs slightly too large for her frame. She carried a small box and smiled warmly when she saw me.

She was familiar. I realized, startled—she was the same woman from the club. The one who had taken Ethan away after Luca shattered his jaw.

“Hey, Charlotte,” she said.

“Hi...” I greeted, uncertain.

“Charlotte, meet Genevieve,” Ethan said. “She’s my best friend.”

Something inside me stilled.

“Oh,” I said, offering a small nod. “Genevieve. Nice to meet you.”

We exchanged polite smiles. I watched her cross the room and lean over Ethan with a tenderness I wasn’t expecting. She set the box on the table and helped him sit up more comfortably, brushing back his hair, checking the pulse on his wrist, asking softly if he was too cold.

The way he looked at her. The way he allowed it.

Maybe Ethan saw her as a best friend. But I wasn’t sure it was the same on her side.

Or maybe I was projecting. Seeing things that weren’t there. Reading too deeply into simple gestures because I’d been broken too many times to trust anyone’s closeness.

Still... her presence unnerved me.

“Eat, idiot,” Genevieve said, placing a spoon into Ethan’s hand. He tried, but his grip was clumsy.

She rolled her eyes and helped guide it to his mouth. “You’re hopeless.”